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miguel-ohara-eater · 7 months

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Spider DNA 🕷️

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(red: Miguel)

(summary: you caught Miguel in his office rutting, and he asks for help. only for you to find out another defect of his spider DNA)

CW: monster fucking, aggressive sex, biting, clawing, licking, uses of degrading names, 2 dicks, slight choking if you squint, edging, anal.

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12:46 PM.

You just had gotten done on a mission with Peter B, walking down the lobby halls and squeezing past a couple of the other members with an empanada in your hand.

You'd popped into the cafeteria, grabbing two empanadas (one of which you'd already eaten by then) and the second one for Miguel.

Miguel and you have never really spoken since you first were recruited, but sometimes he'd make small talk that surprised you considering he'd never really talk to anyone. So you thought it would be nice to bring him some lunch as he's locked up in his lab as usual.

You make your way down Sector 4, getting in the elevator as it goes up and you keep your hands around the empanada container, making sure it stays warm.

The large doors finally open as you get to the top, walking down the hall and past several big machines from Miguels projects, the lights dark as usual.

The closer you got to the main part, the heavier the buzzing sound in your head became, your spider senses tingling but you ignored it, assuming nothing could possibly happen.

But then you get to the end of the hall, leading to the main part of the lab and you see Miguel hunched over his desk, helplessly and aimlessly humping the side of a table.

His face was a flushed mess, biting his bottom lip with his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to have some sort of relief underneath his suit.

His grunts and whimpers fill the lab, as he claws and bites at the desk, humping repeatedly.

Your eyes widened, an unexplainable knot twisting in your stomach but in a... good way?

You go to take a step back but by the time your heel had lifted off of the ground he was already standing up and glaring at you.

"what are you doing here.?" he snapped

You didn't know what to say, so you just held up the empanada in the small cardboard container.

"... empanada." you mumbled, your eyes still wide.

His platform was already on the ground, so he was in front of you within seconds. His eyebrows scrunched together and with every breath he took he let it out in a small growl.

"um... here." you say shakily, putting it to his chest as if you expect him to take it.

but instead he grabs your wrist, the empanada falling out of your hand and he yanks you closer, absolutely staring into your soul.

"don't want it." he says in a low voice and tilts his head, leaning closer and he... sniffs?

your eyes widen and you feel his breath behind your ear as he smelled you.

"help me." he whispers, his tone making you wanna get on your knees right then and there.

"with what?" you say trying to keep your voice less shaky than before.

"what season is it cariño?" he mumbles, his other hand moving around you to the small of your back as his other hand keeps hold of both of your wrists.

"summer?" your tone is confused and he sniffs the crook of your neck.

"breeding. breeding season." he grumbled. oh. he was rutting. it all made sense now, the behavior change, humping his desk, smelling you, you must've forgotten he was 50% spider. but now it made sense and you were horny just from watching him for those 15 seconds of the humping so how could you say no?

"what if we get caught?" he took that as a yes, immediately biting slightly into your neck and ripping the crotch out of your spider suit.

"h-hey!" you said and he got on his knees, ignoring you and pulling your legs apart as he stuck his tongue in between your folds.

you almost fell backwards, and he held you by the waist and aggressively moved you over to the wall, pressing you back against it and he pulled your legs over his shoulders and stayed on his knees. his tongue desperately lapping at your clit, sucking and slobbering all over your already wet pussy.

"you're gonna be so good to my cock." he mumbled into you, the vibrations making you whimper and put your hands in his hair.

his hands clawed into your thighs, digging into the skin slightly and the longer he desperately ate you out, the tighter the familiar knot got in your stomach.

"f-fuck Miguel I'm gonna-" damn it.

the knot painfully faded away, Miguel had already stood you back up and was cleaning his face off with his tongue after denying you to cum.

"you're here for ME hermosa." he hissed, grabbing your chin and hunching over you.

you just nodded, and he turned you around and pushed you against the wall

he buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.

then he pulled down the neck of your spider suit, revealing your skin and he licked from the crook of your neck to the back of your ear.

your eyes widened and you looked at him, his eyes were closed and his face was flushed but still buried into your skin.

it was... cute. but that cute thought immediately was yeeted to another side of your head when he opened his eyes and grabbed you, hoisting you over his shoulder and he walked back to his platform and slammed you onto the desk.

before you could even say anything his suit dissipated, revealing his toned body and muscles which were even hotter underneath the suit but further down, two rock-hard (at least 10 inch) dicks were staring right at you.

"I'm gonna fuckin ruin you." he growled, grabbing your chin and making you look up at him.

"tw- how- huh?" you couldn't even get the words out, looking down at his monster cocks.

he rolled his eyes and squoze your chin harder

"it's a defect. 50% spider dna. remember? spiders have two reproductive organs, so I get two dicks." he snapped

you looked up at him, wide eyed and you didn't even know how he was gonna fuck you.

"and you're gonna take it like the whore you are."

you didn't know what to say, but the thought of two dicks absolutely ruining you like that sounded like the best thing ever.

you nodded, and he flipped you onto your stomach and positioned himself behind you, arching your back with one arm under your hips and the other arm around your neck with his face in your shoulder.

you whimpered, the two heads of his cocks poking against your entrance and your anus.

he stuck his fingers in your mouth, still not putting his dick in.

"suck." he commanded, and you wrapped your tongue around his thick fingers and started sucking.

the position was uncomfortable, bent like a pretzel but that's how he liked it. that's how you liked it.

without warning, he bottomed out. a loud squelch followed by a shriek from you and a groan from him entering the air.

you squeeze your eyes shut, your hand reaching up and grabbing onto his arm that was around your neck.

"god you're so tight..." he groaned, thrusting in and out without giving you time to even adjust to the monster cocks filling both of your holes.

"you were made for me. you're my whore." he whispered in your ear, licking your jaw as he thrusted mercilessly into your holes.

you moaned loudly, your hand clawing at his arm and your mouth sucking harder on his fingers.

the sounds of skin slapping, squelching, groaning, whimpering, and moaning were the only things you could hear. the occasional degrading things or sweet nothings Miguel would whisper into your ear made your brain go foggy.

you could feel him everywhere. he was all over you, and inside you. you swore you could feel every single vein on both of his cocks.

next thing you knew you'd came 4 times and he had 3. he was a whimpering mess, biting your shoulder and fucking you at the same relentless pace as he was before even if the overstimulation was killing him.

"I'm gonna get you so fucking pregnant baby.." he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and biting into your neck.

"you wanna have my kids? Yeah baby?" he cooed, even if he knew you couldn't answer.

your jaw was slack, eyes rolled into the back of your head and your pussy and anus still milked his cock for more cum.

"mm you're so good to me cariño." he muttered, both of your guys cum dripping out of your holes.

"so so so good. God I love this pussy... I'm gonna make you a mama and use you like a whore everyday." he ranted, his face red and his eyebrows scrunched in concentration of cumming just one more time.

his hips stuttered, his pace faltering and it was a familiar thing by now.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-" then his 4th load of warm seed was shot into your holes, making you moan and he pulled out with a squelch.

he collapsed onto you, his arm slipping out from underneath your hips and out from around your neck and the only sound you could hear now was his soft breathing.

you'd thought you'd died, the white stars fading away from your vision and you laid your head on the table.

"fuck..." you sighed, and he slowly sat up and covered himself with his suit.

"I'll make note to call you next time." he muttered, helping you off of the table and he just tossed you a tissue.

you stood up, cleaning yourself off with the tissue but with the amount of cum coming out of you it wasn't enough and you could barely even stand.

he looked at you, then walked past you to his holographic screens.

"take a plan b." he said without even looking at you.

"um... okay."

"and I'll have Lyla make you a new suit."

you nodded, then left and got in the elevator. hoping that you would be able to run fast enough so nobody saw your ass and pussy hanging out, but the idea wasn't that bad, leaving the empanada long gone and forgotten about, cold in it's box.

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THIS IS MY FIRST WRITING PIECE 🥳🥳

I hope you all appreciate it, I hope it's good 😭

but thank you to @pissjuicencumballz for the idea.

SEE YOU ALL OCT. 2!!!

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theostrophywife · 3 months

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stalker! theo who falls for a pretty little ravenclaw after you run into him in the hall, flustered and frenzied as your books and parchment spill out of your hands.

stalker! theo who listens to his raven mumble apologetically, rambling about deadlines and deadbeat project partners who left you to complete an assignment all alone.

stalker! theo who watches in fascination as you scramble to get yourself sorted, apologizing and sniffling for running into him.

stalker! theo who stares at your pretty doe eyes filled with tears, lower lip trembling as you timidly take the papers that he's gathered and organized for you.

stalker! theo who smirks at the little flush that creeps up your neck when your fingers brush together. your voice a quiet little rasp as you murmur, thank you, theo.

stalker! theo who is a little surprised that you even know his name, mesmerized at how pretty you look when you cry, leaning down to fluster you a little more before he whispers, you're welcome, little raven.

stalker! theo who honest to merlin felt his heart stop when you reward him with a smile. a shy little smile that has him hooked from that day forward.

stalker! theo who finds your deadbeat partner and threatens him into pulling his weight or else he'll pull his intestines out of his body if he makes theo's little raven cry again.

stalker! theo who can't help but smile when you grin at him in the halls, waving shyly as you pass by with your group of friends who tease you as you blush prettily for him.

stalker! theo who starts to crave you more than cigarettes. who asks anything and everything about you. finding out your class schedule, your dorm number, your favorite spots in hogsmeade.

stalker! theo who watches you study in the library, hiding behind stacks and stacks of books, keeping an eye on his pretty raven as you recite facts under your breath, anxiously biting down on your lip and tapping the end of your quill against your chin when you come across a particularly hard question.

stalker! theo who follows you all the way back to your dorm, making sure you get in safely. lurking in the shadows as you cautiously look over your shoulder, pretty eyes alert and ready as you squint in the darkness.

stalker! theo who finds a sick thrill in watching you shiver as your gaze passes over his hiding spot, eyes unfocused and glazed as you gloss over him in the darkness of the castle, steps picking up as you climb your way up ravenclaw tower, answering the door’s riddle whilst clutching your wand closer to your chest.

stalker! theo who waits until you're good and settled, because he knows how long your bedtime routine is, knows you like to shower and stick to your skincare routine religiously before tucking yourself into bed and cuddling your little stuffie to sleep.

stalker! theo who lets himself into your dorm with a master key he nicked from dumbledore's office, sneaking quietly into your room and making himself right at home.

stalker! theo who nosily flickers through the knickknacks on your desk, all perfectly lined up in neat little rows, which he returns them to before sauntering over to your bookshelves and tracing over the notes and lines that you'd scribbled onto the worn, yellow pages.

stalker! theo who hovers by your bed, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and smiling as he watches you sleep peacefully, all snuggled up in bed. thumb brushing over your cheek as he presses his lips against yours in a sweet little peck before whispering, sweet dreams, my pretty little raven.

stalker! theo who freezes when you stir, fingers reaching for him in the dark, while you softly murmur in your sleep. please, theo. the bulge in his trousers growing while you moan and whimper so desperately. desperate for him.

stalker! theo who exhales a shaky breath, knowing that it's wrong, so wrong to invade your privacy like this, but he just can't help himself. you bring out the addictive, compulsive side to him and he's obsessed.

stalker! theo who is pilfering through your dresser, pulling out a pair of your pretty lace pink panties. who knows how fucked up it is to touch himself like this even as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his boxers down, wrapping your panties around his cock before stroking himself, getting off on listening to your pretty little sounds, still moaning his name in your sleep.

stalker! theo who is panting and gasping as he pumps himself while a choked groan crawls up his throat. he tries to tamper down his noises by biting his lip, canines sinking into his bottom lip so hard that he’s breaking skin and drawing blood. watching as crimson dots stain you bedsheets, wishing he could leave them there to mark his territory.

stalker! theo who finishes all over your pretty panties, covering the lace in his cum while you continue to dream, blissful and unaware of the filthy, dirty way he’d wanked himself off right beside you.

stalker! theo who leans down to murmur, fuck. you don’t know what you do to me, principessa. i fucking adore you. i’d do anything for you. there’s no limit to the lengths i’d go to just to make you smile. theo sighs, kissing your temple. you’re mine, cara mia. even if you don’t now it yet. i promise that you will soon, y/n. i’ll make you mine no mater what it takes.

stalker! theo who lingers by the door cause he can’t help but sneak one last glance at you. smiling softly, he watches adoringly as you snuggle your stuffie closer. his heart threatens to burst at the precious sight and in that moment theo knows. he’d do anything for you. he’d kill for you. he’d die for you. but for now, he has to settle for the memory of your soft rasp, saying his name over and over again like a prayer.

stalker! theo who leans against the doorway, slipping your pretty pink panties into his pocket for safekeeping before whispering softly in the darkness, goodnight, my pretty little raven.

#if you hear howling outside don't be alarmed it's just me #theo nott #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n

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jedi-starbird · 3 months

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Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

#everyone feel free to use these i crave more time travel fics #the sheer power qui gon would have as a fully communicating force ghost before and during the clone wars is astounding #qui gon with baby obi wan is like inconsolable sobs cause he never saw him this small and then his life was so sad and he couldnt even hug #him on tatooine but now look at his boy!!! so small and huggable!!!!#they absolutely weaponise baby obi against others his wet cat eyes are 1000% stronger now #they drop him in dookus lap like look grandpadawan:)#if you hold the grandpadawan maybe your sith behaviour will calm down :/#anyway them together is like they throw enough bullshit into the air to blind everyone while they speedrun important changes in the back #after naboo is like everyone offering obi wan condolences and obi responding yeah im going to need them the fucker wont stay down #star wars #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #fic ideas #time travel shenanigans #codywan #anakin skywalker #disaster lineage #count dooku

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geltears · 4 months

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fratboy!geto

cw: college au, masturbation, smut, love confessions, miscommunication

fratboy!Suguru who’s in the most popular frat and on the football team only because his best friend and local campus manwhore, Gojo Satorou, is the captain and head of the frat

Suguru had sworn he knew almost every girl on campus from seeing them enter Gojo’s room at least once but he has no idea who you are when you’re paired together for a Psych research project

“Are you new here? Haven’t seen you in this class before.” And he’d know that you’ve taken this class for 2 semesters if he ever bothered to come to class not hungover.

He pretty much forgets about you after that until Satorou starts eyeing you up in the hall on their daily walk to class and he looks at you, actually looks at you and the frilly dress you’re wearing with your necklace tucked in the same way it was when he talked to you in class.

Suguru doesn’t know what happened to him and why he feels the sudden urge to stake some claim over you. “Hey, we still on to work on our thing at your place right?”

Except, you never had any plans to work on your project but when Suguru grins at you, how could you refuse?

fratboy!Suguru who shows up to your dorm late as hell, still in his football jersey from training, panting with his hair slicked down to his face with sweat. If it were anyone else, he would’ve just skipped the meeting entirely but he thinks he might just have a crush on you.

“What’re you some kinda slut? Why d’ya have a pair of panties like that?” he shamelessly says and points out your lacy thong that you had left out on your bed. He thinks it’s adorable the way you scramble to hide the pink material but he’s already engraved the image into his head.

He doesn’t do much studying or any kind of work (you should’ve known) and somehow weasels his way into your bed.

He’s a great fuck: sweaty toned abs pressing against the back of your thighs as he bends your knees into your chest to drill his thick cock into you. “Hngh Suguru- I can’t take it-“ you’re clawing at his arm and gasping from the stretch.

“You can take it,” he grunts, “C’mon be good for me and fucking take it.”

He’s so big you almost think you’re going to die— die from how good he’s fucking you. You can feel him in your tummy, his fat leaky tip pressing against your cervix as he jackhammers his hips into you with wet plapping sounds as his balls slap against your ass.

fratboy!Suguru who has an almost perfect attendance record this semester because he comes to class just to see you. He's sillier than you would have imagined-- do all football players play footsies under the table?

No, Suguru usually leaves these stuff to Satorou but he loves the way your eyes crinkle up in delight when he makes you giggle.

He chats you up every time you have class, brings you sickly sweet pastries because he doesn’t know what else you’d like and for the first time in years, Suguru feels a connection.

You still get a little flustered when he talks to you because why is he still talking to you when you've already submitted your assignment and he's gotten into your pants?

fratboy!Suguru who finds himself rushing to put in one last word with you after class. He had this all planned out but all he manages is “You coming to the game later?” with a sheepish grin.

And funny enough it’s your first time going to one of these games since you enrolled.

When they win, Geto surprisingly comes running over to you in the front row of the stands, pausing when he realizes he was leaning up for a kiss. He hugs you instead, grinning widely and looking handsome as ever as he pulls you flush to his chest.

It’s perfect until Satorou appears behind him and slaps a hand on his shoulder in that boyish way, sporting his signature toothy smile.

“Is this your girl or something? You’re gonna miss the celebration party.”

“Nah just....a friend,” he clears his throat, “See you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

fratboy!Suguru who ends up leaving the party early because things just don't seem fun when you're not around anymore.

He indulges himself silly and waits til his body is hot with need before heading up to his room to wait off the alcohol.

Suguru finds himself butt-naked, beefy thighs spread wide on his bed as he jerks his throbbing cock and thinks about you. You and your pretty face.

He spreads his pre over his fat tip with his thumb, moaning lowly at the thought of how your fingers would feel wrapped around him. He bites his lip as he thinks about it: your hands would shake as you wrapped around his girth but you'd manage and your small fingers would squeeze and pump his cock expertly.

With a few more lazy twists of his fist around his cock and a strained buck of his hips, Suguru groans out your name and cums in thick, hot spurts all over his chest.

fratboy!Suguru who feels ashamed and acts as if it never happened when he sees you in class the next day. He sits next to you and talks about the usual frat-party shenanigans like you’re just friends.

Because you are just friends, right?

Suguru’s attitude makes you want to curl into a ball and disappear. He makes you feel like a dumb little girl. Why did you think the hot footballer would take you seriously?

fratboy!Suguru who definitely has a huge crush on you and finally works up the courage to ask you out. It’s a shocker but he’s only ever had one girlfriend before and that was in high school and the girl tried to fuck Satorou (who refused).

He gets to class early to wait for you in your usual seats and he’s practically bouncing in anticipation at seeing you. He thinks about how pretty you look when you scrunch your nose in concentration and his cock stirs in his pants.

fratboy!Suguru who spent the whole class on edge and too worried to take notes because you never showed up. He runs faster than he ever has on the field to get to your door and he might’ve broken the door down if you had let him pound it a little longer.

“What? Oh, hi.”

“Holy shit- Where have you been?” he rasps.

He's pushing past you and letting himself in un-invited, burly shoulders shoving you away from the doorway with ease. "Is there something you need?" your words crunch on their way out.

For the first time since freshman year, he finds himself fumbling for his words. "Well yeah- I uh, wanted to tell you something."

Suguru can see the tick in your brow and he thinks it's the first time he's ever seen you get angry.

"I like you," he blurts, loudly and stupidly like he's never talked to a girl before," I like you a lot and I was wondering-"

He doesn't get anymore words in after his embarrassing little confession because you're already leaning up on your tippy-toes to kiss him deeply, small hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

fratboy!Suguru who realises that he didn't kiss you the last time y'all had sex so no wonder you thought it was just a quick fuck to him.

He makes sure to make up for it. That night, Suguru's mouth touches almost every intimate part of your body. He's nothing like how rough he was before. He kisses your inner-thighs and eats your pussy like a man starved, slurping and pulling you down against his face so his tongue can get as far as possible inside you.

He kisses you sloppy after too, your cum still fresh on his tongue and his face still covered in your slick.

Geto has never been this nervous about sex before. He bumps the tip of his cock clumsily against your clit, veiny length throbbing at the sound of your shocked squeal.

He kisses your ankle, spreads your legs wide so he can get a good view of where his cock sinks into your tight cunt and your clit twitches with want. He thinks you're so sexy-- he could cum just like this without moving an inch.

But he doesn't. He steadies his breath and angles his hips to hit your sweet spot, groaning every time you moan from the sensation and clench around his cock.

fratboy!Suguru who kisses your forehead when you wake up in the morning to being pressed against his firm chest, now with the title of his girlfriend.

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emmyrosee · 7 months

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You’re completely out of reality today.

Rintaro’s flight is delayed until who knows what time, the twins brewing in your uterus are obliterating your back and bladder, and the love of your life Kaiya is intent on making your life a project today. With Akito staying at a friends house for a project, it truly is just you at the mercy of 1.8 kids.

You’ve danced the pregnant dance for nine years by now, but this is the first time in a long time you’re just about ready to break down into tears. You don’t know if it’s because you’re exhausted, your hormones are off the chart, or if you’re just so done with being pregnant for the past 8 months that the baby bump you usually adore is just becoming too much to keep.

You feel so sore, so gross from the sweat and other bodily fluid changes that come with twins. Nothing that any pamphlet, and doctor, even the Miya twin’s poor mother taking the time to call you and talk to you about it wasn’t anything to hold a candle to the exhaustion you’re feeling.

Eventually, it must boil over. And you do so without even knowing it, brushing Kaiya’s hair after a bath.

“Why you cryin’, mumma?”

“Huh?” Your hand stills softly, just clutching the hairbrush in your hand.

She turns around to face you, her small hand slowly reaching up to touch your wet cheek, and when you feel the warmth of her hand against your cool tear tracks, you’re quick to sniffle and move to wipe them away. “I’m sorry baby, mommy’s just feeling yucky today.”

Okay. Not what you meant to confess to your little three year old, but immediately, her eyes widen and she moves to crawl on your lap. You pick her up and plop her on your thigh, cradling her and trying your damndest to not wail right there.

“Mumma bootiful, mumma.”

Again, you freeze. You pull away slightly, fat tears rolling down your cheeks with fervor this time. “What…?”

“Mumma bootiful!”

“Mumma’s beautiful?”

“Yeah!”

Your lip wobbles and you tug her closer, “my baby… what did I do to deserve you? My cutie Kaiya.” You give her a flurry of kisses on her cheeks, and it has her giggling in joy.

“Mumma give kisses!”

“Mumma will always give you kisses,” you promise. You plant a few more to her temple, only stopping to take a few minutes to sniff her clean hair, rub her soft cheeks, and enjoy the silence of just you and your little girl.

A sudden kick to your side has you snapped from your daze, and Kaiya gasps excitedly.

“Which baby’s kickin, mumma?” She asks, and you ponder the thought for a minute. “Sachie or Sachiko?”

You think on it, then plant a kiss to her nose, “I think it’s Sachie; I think she’s got daddy’s sassiness, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” agrees, and with one more kiss to her temple, you nudge her softly to get up.

“Come on, stink. Let’s watch a movie before daddy comes home to ruin the fun.” At your words, she giggles and gets up, bouncing down the halls and leaving you to quickly clean the bathroom.

With a small bowl of veggies and a Disney movie playing on the tv, you pull a blanket over you both and let the calmness of Encanto bring you to a state of being half asleep; You’re not entirely sure when Rintaro finally does come home, but there’s a new movie playing, and Kaiya leaps off the couch excitedly.

“Daddy!”

You hear bags drop and your eyes open exhaustedly in an attempt to greet him, but the heaviness in them lingers as you try to keep them open. You hear Rintaro shushing Kaiya softly, followed by a few plants of wet kisses on her cheek. There’s murmurs of conversation, and you hear Rintaro’s steps coming closer as you stretch. “Hey babydoll; stay comfy, I’ll come get you in a bit.”

“Gotta get the chicken for tomorrow…”

“Huh?”

Kaiya giggles, “mumma still sleeping.”

“Guess so,” he chuckles. He plants a kiss to your head, mumbles to Kaiya to do the same, and your mind is so buried in its exhaustion to process even getting up to greet your man. “Come on Kaiya. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay daddy!”

There’s no footsteps that you can process, but you do hear one final thing that has you curling into the warmth of your blanket in search of his embrace.

“Mommy really is beautiful, isn’t she stink?”

“Mumma’s bootiful!”

—-

If my life ain’t this ion want it

1K notes · View notes

horangare · 8 months

Text

daddy dearest

pairing : dilf!jeonghan x collegestudent!reader

content : smut (mdni or else!!)

in which : meeting the father of your project partner and new friend didn’t go how you planned, but hey, you’re not complaining

warnings : age gap (jeonghan is in his early 40s, reader is in their early 20s), reader has female anatomy, cursing, dom/sub dynamics, (kinda? i think?) begging, oral (jh giving), teasing, (dirty talk, praise, degradation) pet names (jeonghan calls reader princess, baby, slut, good girl/reader calls jeonghan sir, mr. yoon), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap)

wc : 4.6k words

note : omg my first fic on here

part 2

You trudged into your last class of the day, completely exhausted and overwhelmed. The week has been full of nothing but exams, presentations, and essays. Midterms were even worse in college than they were than when you were in high school. Just thinking about it makes you wish you could go back to writing essays that were five-hundred words instead of five pages.

All you wanted to do was get through this class with a simple task, or, maybe if you were lucky, just a lecture along with some note taking. After all, for the past week your professor hasn’t made you write pages upon pages or cram weeks worth of information into your head for a test that he could spring on you at any day.

Unfortunately, luck has never been your best friend.

Your professor beckoned you to his desk where he was organizing various stacks of papers. “Good afternoon [Y/n]. Ah, here, take one of these.” He said, handing you a—somewhat thick—packet. You looked down and flipped through it, slightly dumbfounded with the amount of pages it contained.

“Uh, sir, what is this?” You asked. He chuckled a little and shook his head.

“Your midterm project. The packet contains all the details, now as for your partner…” The man scanned the still somewhat empty lecture hall before his eyes landed on someone sitting in the back. “Ah! You’ll be with the girl back there.”

You turned around, looking to the back to try and find the “girl back there” he was mentioning. Your eyes landed on a girl who you don’t think you be ever seen or talked to before with her attention completely focused on her laptop as she rapidly typed away at her keyboard.

“Um, okay, thanks,” You mumbled to your professor before making your way to the back of the hall and towards your partner. Now that you were close enough, you actually managed to recognize her.

Iseul was always a bit quiet. She always sat in the back of the lecture hall, always typing away on her laptop. She always wore clothes that fit loosely on her and kept her hair in a bun or a ponytail, which would have gotten old if the styles didn’t work so well to show off her gorgeous cheekbones. You wondered who her parents were, because damn those genes had to be strong. When you thought about yourself, the two of you were pretty much complete opposites. You got sat close to the front and talked to anyone that would bother to listen. You dressed up every day and spent careful time on your hair, and wow, you were really getting jealous of those cheekbones.

“Hi,” You greeted her with a friendly smile. “You’re Iseul, right? I’m [Y/n]. We’re supposed to be partners for this project.”

Iseul looked up at you, a faint smile on her face as she nodded. “Uh, yeah. Hi. Oh, sorry, please sit,” she grabbed her bag from the chair next to her and placed it on the ground. You sat down next to her, placing your bag down on the ground in front of you.

“So, have you looked over the project yet? Is it a lot? Please say no…” You asked her, mumbling the last part. By now, she had turned her attention back to her laptop, but she laughed when you asked that. If you were being honest, you didn’t think you could bring yourself to flip through all those pages without breaking down in tears.

“It isn’t too much. Just a powerpoint and a short essay to go along with it. I don’t think it should take too long…” Iseul trailed off, preoccupied with flipping through the packet and typing.

To your surprise, you got along with Iseul better than you thought. She seemed enthusiastic to hear your ideas and responded earnestly, the two of you bouncing your ideas off of each other until you finally came up with something you both agreed on. While she got started on the written portion, you had taken decided on doing the powerpoint. You got along with her so well that when class had ended, you couldn’t stop a pout from forming on your lips.

“Is something wrong?” Iseul asked, a slight look of worry showing on her face. “Is there a problem with the project? Should we revise?”

“No, everything’s fine. I just…” Still pounting, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I need your number. So that we can keep up with the project and…‘cause we should be friends.”

And in an instant, Iseul’s face brightened, and she nodded. She typed her phone number into your phone and smiled at you. “I’ll..um, text you later. About the project, okay?”

You smiled back, picking up your bag and walking to the door before the two of you went your separate ways. As much as you had enjoyed Iseul and her company today in class, you really couldn’t wait to get back to your dorm to shower and get a little rest before the weekend. Oh, you couldn’t wait for the weekend

Right. You wouldn’t have time to even enjoy it because you would be working on that stupid project. Damn your professor.

The weekend went by in a flash, much to your disappointment, and the last thing you wanted was to return to your classes. Of course, the project for your early childhood development class—which was the class your project was due in—wasnt due until next week, but you had still been dreading it. However, when you got there, you were greeted with an empty classroom.

Confused, you called Iseul, who picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Iseul, where is everyone? Why’s the class empty?”

“Oh, didn’t you read the email? He said he won’t be there for a while. Something about the stomach flu, and blah blah blah, a bunch of other personal stuff.”

You smiled. Karma was real.

“By the way,” She continued. “I’m staying at my dad’s house this week. Do you think you could come here so we can work on the project today? I’ll send you the address.”

“Sure. I’ll be there soon.”

Iseul was outside before you could even exit your Uber, still in her pajamas and with her hair down instead of up. Now that you were seeing it like this, you were surprised with just how long it was. She greeted you at the door with a smile and led you inside.

You couldn’t stop your mouth from falling open as you took in your surroundings. “Woah, Iseul, you live here? What’s the deal, are your parents like…”

“Parents?” She asked. “No, no, it’s just my dad. And he’s a model, he has been since he was younger.”

This caught your interest.

“Who’s your dad?”

Iseul brought her hand to her mouth, nervously biting on one of her fingernails. “Well, he’s—”

In that moment, one of the doors opened to reveal possibly the most gorgeous man you think you’ve ever seen. He was taller than both you and Iseul, but there was a bigger gap between the two of you as opposed to him and Iseul. His hair cascaded down the sides of his face and down his neck. And he had the same gorgeous cheekbones as Iseul.

So this was where she got it from. Iseul was Yoon Jeonghan’s daughter.

“Ah..hey dad.” Iseul said, pulling her hand away from her mouth. “Oh, this is [Y/n], from school. She’s my partner for that project I was talking about.”

The man nodded at Iseul, shifting his gaze from her over to you. His gaze felt so intense, you couldn’t help but squirm as his eyes looked over you, taking you in.

“Hello Mr. Yoon.” You greeted him with a smile and a short bow, silently wishing he would take his eyes off of you because it was making you more nervous than you would’ve liked. He nodded slowly, looking you over one more time before turning down the hall and disappearing deeper into the house. Iseul grabbed your hand and dragged you to her room.

“Sorry about that, I was about to tell you, but he’s got this habit of just…appearing, so…” Iseul’s apology came out quickly and a bit hushed as she threw herself onto her bed. She sighed. “I should’ve told you earlier.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s really fine.” Iseul was relieved that you didn’t seem as shaken as she thought you would’ve been. With a nod, she smiled at you and patted the space on the bed next to her.

“Okay, we should get to work, we’re almost done with the project.”

With much reluctance, you settled onto the bed next to her and opened your laptop. Iseul may have been your friend, but you wanted nothing more than a break from this project. After this, you never wanted to hear or see the word project ever again.

God, you weren’t sure which you hated more, this project (honestly though, you really did hate this project) or your brain.

As much as you wanted to focus and finish as quickly as you could, you just kept getting distracted with thoughts of Jeonghan. It’s not like you wanted to keep thinking of him, especially when you were just meeting him for the first time, but he was just so much more breathtaking in person than you could have imagined. Those magazines did not do him justice. You got hot just thinking about it—about him.

You couldn’t take it any more. “Iseul, um…where’s the kitchen? I really need some water.”

“Oh, uh,” Iseul sat up, climbing out of the bed and walking to the door, “Right down the hall and then it’s through the first door on the left.”

“Thanks.” You smile before practically running out of her room to the kitchen. With a somewhat shaky hand, you pulled open the fridge and grabbed the closest bottled water before shutting the fridge, turning to leave when you froze.

Jeonghan was standing in front of you. And this time, he was closer. Much closer.

Slightly surprised, you took a step backwards. Jeonghan tilted his head to the side and mirrored your actions, taking one step closer. This continued for a short bit with him coming one step closer for every one step you took backwards until he had you backed up against the counter, caging you in place with both arms by your side on the countertop.

“Ah…Hi again, Mr. Yoon.” You said, feeling nervous all over again with how close he was.

“Mmm…you’re just making yourself right at home, aren’t you?” Jeonghan asked. “Taking from my fridge without even asking…”

Your eyes widened, worried you had upset him. “I’m sorry sir, I asked Iseul first, really I would never!”

Jeonghan smirked and shook his head. “Relax baby, I’m only kidding. You can get as comfortable as you want here.” He mumbled, one of his hands moving from the counter to rest on your hip.

You tried to back away, right now you wish that was an option, but between the counter keeping you from moving backwards and Jeonghan’s hand on you, it was a little hard to go anywhere. “Mr. Yoon, what are you doing..?”

“Just…looking. Why, should I stop?”

With every word he spoke Jeonghan inched his face closer and closer to yours until you were only inches apart. His eyes wandered down from your eyes to your lips. You were hoping he wouldn’t lick them, but of course he did.

God, this man would be the death of you.

You turned your head to the side, too shy to meet his gaze. “Sorry sir, I don’t know if…” Your words got lost in your throat as Jeonghan placed his hand under your chin and turned your head back to look at him.

“Now now princess, anything you have to say you can say it to my face.” He said as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. “God, I really want to kiss you baby. Can I?”

You bit your lip and nodded every so slightly, feeling your heart betray you as it started to beat so fast and loud you would be surprised if it didn’t burst out of your chest right now. You looked down at his lips like he did to you just moments ago before. “Yes, please,” you mumbled. “kiss me.”

That was all it took before Jeonghan closed the last bit of distance between you two, attaching his lips to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought your hands away from your sides to tangle them into his soft black hair. Jeonghan lightly but your bottom lip, causing you to let out a moan which allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hand that was on your hip traveled up to hold your waist, while his other hand rested on the nape of your neck to pull you impossibly closer. It all felt so unreal, so intense, it made your head spin and your underwear slick.

Jeonghan pulled away and looked down at you with a faint smile. You looked up at him, still breathless and panting.

“Iseul will probably be getting worried about you by now, huh princess?” He asked, stepping away from you. “You shouldn’t keep her waiting. She tends to worry, you know.” You nodded, still a bit dazed from the kiss and started to walk away, but Jeonghan tugged your hand to stop you, slipping the bottle of water back into your hand with a wink and slipped out of the kitchen and once again disappeared into the house.

By Monday evening, you had said your goodbyes to Iseul (unsure of where her father had went inside that giant house of theirs) and hauled ass back to your dorm to try and get said father off of your mind—it didn’t work. Needless to say, you ended the night with your fingers buried in your pussy with the image of Jeonghan replaying over and over in your mind, you chanting his name like it would bring him out of your fantasies and have him ravage you right here in your dorm room.

By Wednesday morning, you had almost completed your part of the project. Iseul had been finished by Monday night and offered to help, but you insisted on doing it yourself. The more you thought about it though, you were starting to think you should have accepted it.

“You can come over again if you want. I won’t be there until later in the afternoon, but my dad will be there..if that’s okay with you. Once I get there I can help you finish the project.” Iseul said while you two were on the phone.

At her home? Alone? With Jeonghan? No way. Not when he made your heart race and your cunt throb. Not when he had your head spinning after one kiss. Absolutely not. Not happening. Never.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll text you when I get there.”

The Uber ride back to the Yoon house had you clenching your thighs together, recalling the events from Monday. You weren’t sure you could trust yourself to be alone with Jeonghan, but you were hoping you could settle into Iseul’s room and avoid him until she came home and then leave undetected.

You slipped out of the car and into the house with the spare key Iseul had given you and hurrying down the maze of halls and doors to Iseul’s room.

Or what you thought was Iseul’s room.

“Seulie? You’re back early, were your classes cancelled?” Jeonghan asked as he stood over the wide wooden desk in front of him. When he received no response from who he thought was his daughter, he turned around to face you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry sir, I thought this was Iseul’s room. I’ll leave, please forgive me.” Your blurted out as you tried to turn around and leave, but Jeonghan had gently tugged you back by your arm.

“Oh baby, why are you in such a hurry? It’s almost like you don’t want to see me.” He gave you a half-hearted pout. “Don’t you think that hurts my feelings a little bit?”

The look in his eyes and the pout on his face had you melting into his touch and feeling bad. “I’m sorry, Mr. Yoon. That’s not what I wanted to do at all.”

Jeonghan cooed at you and nodded softly, spinning you around and slowly walking you backwards until he had you pressed up against his desk.

You were starting to think he liked seeing you pressed up against random surfaces.

“So pretty, aren’t you baby?” He mumbled, leaning closer and trailing kisses down your jaw and your neck which had you moaning and whining as you reached up to hold onto his shoulders. “Truth be told, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since Iseul brought you over on Monday.”

You moaned softly. “Neither have I.”

Jeonghan let out a satisfied hum, rubbing his hands up and down your sides before he slipped them under your shirt and pulled it up over your chest and revealing your lacy white bra. He groaned at the sight and pushed his body closer to yours, bringing his hands to your chest to trace over the details.

“Wow, I didn’t realize my princess was such a little slut.” He said as he reattached his lips to your neck, peppering a few lingering kisses before bringing one of his hands behind your back to unhook your bra. “And who did you wear that for, exactly? Hmm?”

Truth be told, you hadn’t worn it for anyone—especially since you didn’t even plan on being in this situation to begin with—but if you knew how to do anything it was flatter people, so you decided to go with that approach.

“I wore it for you, Mr. Yoon.” You said, looking up at him and batting tour eyelashes. The action had Jeonghan swearing under his breath. He reached forward and patted the desk behind you.

“Lie back, princess.” He instructed. You did so instantly and Jeonghan chuckled at your obedience as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you. and pressed a chaste kiss to your thigh. When you tensed, he pulled himself back. “Relax, I promise I’ll go easy on you. For now.”

Without even giving you the chance to respond, Jeonghan tugged your shorts down, stopping to admire the white panties that matched your bra and the wetness that stained them. He gazed up at you with a smirk before pulling them down as well, relishing in the image of your soaking wet pussy on display for him. “Just as pretty as the rest of you, princess.”

A little embarrassed, you looked away from him and tried to shut your legs, but Jeonghan seemed displeased by that. He forced them open wider with ease and gave you a disapproving look.

“That won’t do. If I’m going to do this, you’ll have to be a good girl for me, understand?” When you nodded, Jeonghan shook his head “Use your words.”

“I understand, sir.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards as he brought his face to your core, kissing and licking gently while his hands soothingly ran his hands up and down the sides of your thighs, relishing in the way you moaned and whimpered and, occasionally, tugged on his hair.

“Oh, shit,” You cried when you felt Jeonghan slip a finger inside you, curling it upwards and hitting that one spot inside you over and over again. “feels so good, sir, please don’t stop.”

The man hummed against your skin, the vibrations making you moan louder than you would’ve liked if you weren’t so close already, and with him adding another finger inside you and sucking on your clit, there was little holding you back.

“Aww, is my princess about to cum?” Jeonghan asked, even though by the way your cunt pulsed around his fingers, you got the sense he wasn’t being sincere. When you nodded, he pressed one last kiss to your clit and pulled himself away from your core.

You whined. “Why..why’d you stop?”

“Believe me princess, I was enjoying myself too,” He muttered, bringing the fingers that were just inside you to his mouth and licking the remnants of your arousal off of them. “But I really don’t want you to cum unless it’s on my cock.” You exhaled shakily, reaching down to feel how hard he had gotten already. He moaned softly, quietly, so faint you wouldn’t have even heard it if you weren’t listening. If he really wanted, he would be fine to continue like this, maybe even get himself off rubbing against your hand, but there was nothing more he wanted right now than to bury himself inside of you.

A gentle push send you back into the once cool surface of his desk, now warm with your body heat and slightly damp with your sweat. Jeonghan wasted no time in ridding himself of his clothes, sliding a hand under one of your thighs and pulling you closer. His other hand held onto his cock, pumping himself a little as he rubbed it against your slick to coat himself with your wetness before he slowly started to push himself inside of you.

“Fuck, princess,” Jeonghan hissed once he finally bottomed out, feeling your insides squeezing his cock. “you can’t clench like that unless you want me to cum before I’ve even started moving.” He said, leaning down to your face and kissing the corner of your lips. He tried to pull away, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

His sudden gentleness shocked you, almost forgetting what position you were even in, but the need for him to start moving took over and you were right back in the moment. “I’m ready.”

His hands held your hips tightly as he pulled himself almost all the way out of you before thrusting back in, knocking some of the air right out of your lungs.

“So tight for me, aren’t you baby?” He groaned and buried his face into your neck. You nodded, albeit you hadn’t really been meaning to, you just couldn’t help your responses when the way he was fucking you felt so good.

“Harder, please. I need it. I need you, Jeonghan.”

Hearing you moan out his name stirred something in Jeonghan, something that had him snapping his hips harder and faster into you. Something that had him burying his face into your chest and sucking marks into your chest that you were certain wouldn’t fade for days. Something that had him bringing his mouth to your ear to whisper more of the filthy things you didn’t know he was capable of saying.

“Jeonghan? All it takes is me fucking you for you to lose all sense of respect, huh baby?” He asked, his breath becoming ragged and uneven as he continued to thrust into you with all his strength. “I thought you were my good girl, but I guess I was right before. Maybe you are just a little slut.”

“I am good!” You cried out, arching your back when Jeonghan continuously hit that spongy part inside of you. “I’m sorry sir, I’ll be good, I promise!”

Jeonghan chuckled, easing up on you a little bit but still continuing to fuck you with the pace he had already set. “Is that so? Does that mean you’ll do what I say? Will you be my good girl?”

“Yes, yes, anything you want sir!”

“That’s it baby,” He whispered with a tenderness that contrasted the way his cock was abusing your insides. “Be a good girl for me. Take my cock like a good girl.”

Shit, you weren’t gonna last much longer at this rate.

“Mr. Yoon, I’m gonna cum soon, please please please let me cum—” Jeonghan shushed your babbling by pressing his lips to yours, swallowing each whine and moan. While you were distracted with that, he trailed his fingers down your body all the way to your clit and rubbed it in fast, tight circles.

“Go ahead baby, cum whenever you want.”

That was all it took for the coil in your abdomen to finally snap, sending you spiraling over the edge. Jeonghan continued to thrust into you, though they started to falter as he got closer and closer to his own release.

“S-Shit, where do you—ah—want me, princess?”

“Inside me, please, sir.” You moaned. “I wanna feel you..need to feel you.”

With one final thrust, Jeonghan let out a final strong of curses before his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside you, painting your insides white. He hovered over you as the two of you caught your breath, eyes shut tight and lips slightly parted. After a few minutes like that, Jeonghan pulled out of you and mumbled for you to stay put there, fishing out his boxers and pants from the pile of clothes on the floor and pulling them on before slipping out of the room.

You sat up on the desk, allowing yourself to fully take in everything that had just happened. Did you seriously just let the father of your new friend fuck you? And enjoy it?

Yes, yes you did.

Jeonghan was back a few minutes later with a damp towel and a bottle of water. You eagerly took the water, drinking half of the bottle without a single break while Jeonghan wiped away the cum from between your legs and the sweat from your back along with the desk.

“I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.” Jeonghan spoke, picking your clothes off of the floor and handing them back to you. You smiled, slipping them back on and smoothing them out as much as you could.

“No no, it’s really fine.” You insisted. “It felt good.”

“Did it now? Should we go again?”

Jeonghan looked at you with a newfound hunger in his eyes that made you feel like you were in the kitchen pressed up against the counter all over again. You bit your lip and nodded, pulling him closer for a kiss, but at the sound of the door unlocking and opening you immediately jumped up and pushed him away.

“Dad, I’m home.” Iseul called out from somewhere further away in the house. You heard her footsteps coming, but you still jumped when the door to the room opened and Iseul stood there in the doorway, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, you were in here. I was wondering why you weren’t in my room.” She said, appearing completely oblivious to the situation that had just occurred in this room.

“Oh, yeah,” You laughed a bit fakely, taking a quick glance at Jeonghan before walking over to Iseul. “I got lost again.”

“Yeah, I get it. I still get lost sometimes too.” Iseul smiled apologetically, waving at Jeonghan before leading you out of the room. “So, did you finish the project? Or do you still need my help on those last few slides?”

As Iseul started to lead you out of the room, you couldn’t help but look back at Jeonghan one last time. He smiled at you, whispering something you almost didn’t hear before Iseul dragged you away.

“I’ll be waiting for you, princess.”

You smiled. Maybe this project hadn’t been so bad after all. Fingers crossed your professor would partner you with Iseul for the finals, too.

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #svt #seventeen #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt jeonghan #seventeen smut

1K notes · View notes

rewh0re · 10 months

Text

─CUPID HIT ME WITH PRECISION ; ITOSHI RIN

-PURE FLUFF, 1.7k, enemies to lovers (more like harmless rivalry turned love), silly confessions, i ACTUALLY poured my whole being into this omg. I did proofread but if any mistake skipped my eye, forgive me:)

Rin liking you? Yea sure. As if you'd believe that.

Itoshi Rin was the absolute bane of your existence.

He was like some nasty weed growing in your otherwise perfect garden making the whole place just not very perfect.

Your friends would look at you, all bewildered and stunned as to how can someone despise the very lovable, the very endearing, the very handsome Itoshi Rin. All he actually ever did was mind his own damn business, didn't poke his nose into anyone's affair and just liked to keep to himself.

But you, you knew him. You knew him and his tendencies to criticise every living being on the planet for even breathing. His perfect facade lasted only so long until you actually talked to him. That is why most people liked him so, because he never actually talked to them.

You were assigned a project with him where you had to interview a certain group of people, and you could bet on your whole life that you had never come across someone as non cooperative as Rin. He kept flaking off due to "football practices." And he argued whenever he got the chance. He argued over the colours, the font, the whole project in general.

When the project was done and dusted and you thought 'oh, good riddance' he barged in again pointing out the little knick knacks about you.

He had friends, few in number but just as annoying by association or otherwise because why else would Isagi and Bachira just barge into your class during lunch and tell you that Itoshi Rin liked you.

"ITOSHI RIN LIKES WHO!?" your best friend quite literally dropped the wrap she was eating as the earth breaking, ground shattering news reached her ears.

Suddenly, your whole class stared at the source of the brand new, very juicy information in silence before breaking into whispers of shock and excitement.

You stared at the two peas for brains with your face twisted in disbelief because no, Rin is not physically or mentally capable of liking anybody. You out of all people? No chance.

"He likes you, y/n! You need to date him!" Isagi shook your frozen self as if trying to bring you back to earth.

"Ok first of all, calm down, everyone is staring and I don't like the whispers which are very audible by the way," you raised your voice towards the end of the sentence as you looked at the people in your class. They went back to their work in an instant.

"Second, good joke lol," you patted Isagi’s shoulder and resumed eating your lunch.

"It's not a joke, he likes you," Bachira announces, face pink with excitement,a wide grin on his face.

Before you could respond with probably something witty or disdainful about Rin, the bell rang and the boys scampered off to their class.

However much you wanted your life to be normal after that, it wasn't. There were whispers in the halls and they followed you everywhere you went. Whoever said that rumours spread like wildfire, was right. Especially in a high school where gossip hungry teenagers exist.

You passed by Rin several times after that, each time he'd look like he wanted to talk to you but said absolutely nothing. You did have maybe a few eye contacts and maybe just maybe you wondered what it would be like to date Rin, to hold his hand in yours and share kisses only to break out in hushed giggles afterwards. But you shook the thoughts away before they took over you completely.

"Can I talk to you?" You screamed as you felt a presence behind you. Slamming your locker shut, you turned around and hit the perpetrator who scared the actual living shit out of you.

"Don't scream, are you crazy?" Rin rubbed his shoulder which probably had become a little sore due to the impact of the hit.

"You snuck up on me!" You jabbed his chest.

"You hit me!" He rolled his eyes. God he was infuriating.

"You-" you started but were rudely interrupted instead.

"Yeah I know I'm annoying. You've mentioned. Now, back to my question. Can we talk?"

You stared at the towering boy suspiciously, "about what?"

"Follow me," with that he began walking, hands in his pocket and grandeur exuding from his stature.

"Hey!" He never answered your call leaving you no scope but to follow the boy in lead.

He had long legs which meant you were quite some paces behind him screaming at him to walk slower, garnering stares and laughs from certain students. He never listened. He kept going until you reached your school field. As academic classes were going to start, it was fairly empty, leaving behind a few pigeons and crows. The field was lined with some flowering trees, petals from which were scattered on the ground. Rin leaned on one of the barks and looked at you, in all your panting state, with his lazy eyes.

And then something happened. Such a once in a blue moon occurrence it was that you couldn't quite process it. You could swear you saw his lips turn upwards to form what was maybe a smile and you heard what could be the word cute. You probably were hallucinating from the speedwalking you had to go through to catch up with him.

"What did you just call me?" You asked for confirmation.

"I called you cute," he confirmed.

You didn't quite know how to reciprocate to that. It was new, it was rare but somehow, it was welcomed.

"So, I'm pretty sure that those idiots told you something about me? You know, with all the rumours?" And suddenly you noticed his hands. His fingers fidgeting with each other, his eyes cast upon the ground.

"Which idiots?" He spared you a momentary glance which said not to play with him right now. You smiled at his slight annoyance. A win is a win.

"Bachira and Isagi. They told you I liked you," he sighed as he rubbed his hand across his face and looked away.

"Yeah they did and I didn't believe them," you simply shrugged.

"Look, I'm not very experienced in the matter of love and relationships. I've never really felt any kind of strong feeling for anyone, especially love. It's very foreign to me," he gulped, eyes still on the ground.

"I know I was mean to you but I didn't know how else to approach you because honestly, I suck at small talk or deep talk or any kind of talk at all. I'm sorry I was not the kindest to you, I'm sorry I didn't show you that I hold feelings for you which at this point might be a little more than a crush. I'm sorry you had to hear this from those two absolutely stupid idiots before hearing it from me. Yeah, y/n, I like you. Quite a bit actually," he finished and by now your jaw was on the ground because why was Rin being a normal actually nice human being? You don't know how long you stood like that with your mouth open and eyes wide but somewhere a crow cawed and you returned back to the land of living.

"That was an apology," you stated.

"Kind of. Yeah, I guess," he folded his arms now and looked at you. There was pink on his cheeks.

"And definitely a confession," he pointed out, rubbing his neck.

"And definitely a confession," you hated yourself for the butterflies that fluttered inside you at the thought.

"Since when are you so....I don't know, not awful?" You spoke in a haze. You've gotten confessions, but one from who you thought was your archnemesis was bound to leave you kind of speechless.

He scrunched his eyebrows, lips forming a pout, "I'm not awful."

"No, now that I think of it, you're not really," you let out a soft giggle.

Rin might have been the bane of your existence at some point but somewhere along the path, you had stopped associating him with weeds and somehow associated him with flowers blooming in the gardens. He had pointed out your little knick knacks but he had also stood up for you once when you got into an argument with a batchmate. He had shared homework with you, taking out time to explain each problem to you when you specifically asked him not to, even when you were clearly suffering and desperately needed it. He had once put a bandaid on your knee muttering how careless you are. Rin was insufferable once but at some point you couldn't really go without initiating any type of contact with the boy. Rin was insufferable but he had never, ever crossed the line.

"So? Do I get an answer today or will you make me wait?" Under all his facade of being unbothered, he was so nervous. So damn nervous.

"You're not too bad," you smiled at him, poking your cheek with your tongue.

"Is that a yes or a no," he came close to you, grabbing you by the hand. He looked at your intertwined hands and then in your eyes.

"You never asked me a yes or a no question Rin," you maintained your smile as you stared at him.

"Go out with me? Yes or no," All his nervousness left his body somehow, as he became more confident and direct. It was torture enough to have hid the fact from you for so long. He wanted an answer.

You kissed his cheek softly, letting your lips hover over them as you pecked him again before you started walking away, grinning at him widely. Your hands were behind you as you feigned your innocence.

"We'll be so late for class and it will all be your fault, Itoshi Rin," Oh he got the answer alright.

"That's a yes or a no, l/n?" He screamed at your scampering figure as he hid his laughter behind a smile.

You turned around, cupping your mouth as you yelled at him, "pick me up this Saturday at 5 and you'll get your answer Itoshi."

With that you ran off leaving a quite jumpy and excited Itoshi Rin behind. Oh, he could not wait for Saturday.

#bllk #blue lock #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #rin fluff #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk rin #blue lock rin #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #rin x you #rin x y/n #blue lock x reader fluff #—storytelling🌙

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orangmarkr · 5 months

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Congrats Tally Hall on 5 million monthly listeners!! :3

#tally hall #project: bring back the hall

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whirlybirbs · 23 days

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BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST | AO3 | SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing: a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster.

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague.

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock."

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches.

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot.

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah.

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig.

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade.

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was.

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...?

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all.

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear.

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter.

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows.

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future.

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning.

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not.

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action.

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused.

You hope it all works out for her in the end.

But, Christ this coffee is bitter.

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am.

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work.

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior.

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract.

And so this has been home for the last four months.

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras.

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers.

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one.

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern.

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny.

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it.

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do.

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now.

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you.

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark.

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK.

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to.

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131.

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it".

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door.

Your boots follow in a trail.

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo.

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief.

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again.

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too.

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline.

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different.

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that.

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday.

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time.

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London.

1977, huh. Zaniac.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled.

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet.

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone.

And he's here, wasting his damn time.

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time.

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks.

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes.

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in.

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?"

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact.

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time.

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki.

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis.

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt.

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin.

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers.

He has to... He...

He needs you back.

Now.

#beyond the void #from the void with love #loki x reader #loki x doc #loki x y/n #loki reader insert #loki/reader #loki/you #loki imagine #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #loki season 2 fic #marvel fanfic

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joelsgreys · 5 months

Text

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but emptiness this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fluff #narcos fanfiction #javier peña one shot #javier peña drabble #12 days of pedro

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tvgals · 10 months

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ IN EVERY UNIVERSE .

— when traveling across multiple universes, miles learns the two of you are together in every single one .

e1610! miles morales x black! fem! reader .

miles pants as he’s in a universe that looks eerily similar to his own, but he knows it’s not his due to the sound of his own voice ringing from his bedroom. miles soundly walks through the house — going unnoticed due to his invisibility — and peeks through his bedroom door to see you and miles sitting on his bed, you placing stickers on his face.

“just stay still!” you giggled, placing a heart sticker on his tip of his nose. “what are we doing this for again?” miles asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could but not being able to hide the amusement in his voice. “gotta take pictures of you for our scrap book, plus i can’t let these stickers go to waste.” you tell him, snapping a picture on your phone and smiling when looking at the results. “see! isn’t it cute?” you questioned your miles, a love struck look in his brown eyes.

the next universe was by far his favorite. miles walked around looking at the pictures that hung on the walls or were placed carefully on a table or shelf, it was pictures of you and him — about 10 years older — with two little kids, one boy one girl. miles was taken out of his train of thought when he heard the giggles of a little girl. he waited to make sure no one else was in the way and he poked his head in through the crack in the door, watching you put the little girl’s afro into two puffs held together with pink ribbons.

“is daddy gonna like my hair?” the girl asks you, looking up at you with curious eyes. “well i dunno. let’s go find out, yeah?” miles instinctively moved out of the way and watched you and the little girl walk into the room where older miles was, watching your daughter jump on the bed and ask — “do you like my hair?” just for him to respond with picking her up and telling her how much he loves it.

the last universe miles was able to travel to was interesting. in this universe, it was just you and him inside an assumed shared apartment. miles tip-toes down the hall to hear you laughing at something he said.

“miles, just put the mask on!” you tell him, a goofy grin on your face. “i’m trying! the wand is too small.” miles complains, struggling to get the mask on his face. “here, lemme do it.” you say, taking the wand from his hand and applying it yourself, watching miles look down at you with love. “there.” you say, proud of your work. “now, let me do your nails!” you grin, watching miles’ eyes go wide.

“like paint them?” miles asks, following you with his eyes while you walk around the bathroom and gather the clippers and clear nail polish. “kinda. it’s a clear coat and it helps with breakage and stuff.” you tell him, coaxing him to sit on the toilet seat. “it won’t show?” miles asks, sadness in his voice. “well why are you sad about it?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “i just wanna show everyone what good of a nail artist my girlfriend is.” miles says, a dopey grin on your face. “we can do blue afterwards, i promise.” you say to him, smiling right back.

and this universe, miles was finally home. he knocks on your door, being let in by your mom.

“what brings you over here, miles?” your mom grinned, leaning against the door. “is it okay if i stay over? mom and dad are working late and i don’t wanna be alone.” miles says, twiddling his thumbs. “of course! rio and jeff know you’re here, right?” your mom asked, letting miles in. “of course. thank you.” miles says, practically racing up the stairs and into your room.

“miles!” you exclaimed, seeing him walk into your room. “hey, y/n!” he exclaimed back, catching you with a grin when you threw yourself into a hug. “where’ve you been?” you asked, checking his face to make sure he was okay. “had to stay over at school, just some project stuff.” miles shrugged. “oh, and i brought some face masks and a new notebook!” miles says, holding up the bag excitedly. “what’s the notebook for?” you ask, flipping thought the pages.

“i thought we could take up scrapbooking.” miles grins.

a/n this was based off of an idea i saw on my feed and i can’t find it 😞

TAGLIST ;— @looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @kisminarii @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @princesslilisworld @mxspiderman2099 @marcelineormars @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @planetspiderzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie

#myatalks🫡#black reader #im black #blkshoyo #e1610 miles #miles morales x you #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales #atsv x reader #atsv x black reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse

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yandere-daydreams · 10 months

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Title: Caught In The Spider's Web.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 2.8k.

TW: N0n///C0n, AFAB!Reader, Biting, Mentions of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Verbal Degredation, Slut-Shaming But In A Projection Way, and Choking.

“Get back here, qué perra!”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in a museum!” You called over your shoulder, chasing it with a breathless laugh before sparing a glance behind you, to where Miguel was still busy clawing through the layers of haphazardly laid webbing that were currently keeping his chest and arms pinned against the far wall of newly-emptied display. You saw his talons tear through the last of it before turning your attention forward – to the tall, narrow halls of the museum, or more specifically, to the stone archways spaced every twenty feet or so. With a wild grin and one last squeeze to the diamond-studded necklace around your neck, the strap of the rucksack weighing heavy against your back, you shot your webs toward the next archway and flew.

Or, swung, more accurately – with Miguel close on your heels. He was more experienced than you, more used to superhuman strength and animalistic agility and everything that happened when a radioactive spider took an interest in you, but no amount of refined skill could’ve measured up to your raw, unrestrained zeal, to the rush of adrenaline that came with every new heist, every new opportunity to use your new powers. Even in the confined space, you moved erratically; vaulting off of walls and falling into jagged nose-dives, never gaining any distance on Miguel but never letting him catch you, either. More than once, you felt his claws graze your back, heard his low growls and muffled cursing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry. Why would you? You were a superhero, now, even if you didn’t do many heroic things. You felt invincible. You were invincible – at least in that moment. At least before Miguel got his hands on you and put an end to your fun for the thousandth time. “Y’know, I really thought you’d be cool with this,” you went on, bouncing off of a display case a fraction of a second before he crashed into it, shattering the glass. “I’m like Robin Hood, dude!”

There was a half-snarled bark, a flash of red in your peripheral. You threw yourself to the left just in time to avoid a tendril of pulsing, luminescent webbing – earning yourself just enough time to shoot a playful wink back at him. He bared his teeth, in response. “Robin Hood gave to the poor. You just steal and cause anomalies.”

“I’d be poor if I stopped stealing!” Finally, you came to the room you were looking for – an open lobby with a domed, crystalline ceiling – a ceiling with a panel no one ever seemed to remember to lock. You’d left it open on your way in, and if you were lucky, you’d be able to slip out of it without alerting the guards posted at every other exit. After that, it was only a matter of losing Miguel in the dark city (you’d apparently been the only spider-people smart enough to skip the eye-bleedingly bright color scheme) and hiding a place to lay low in your own dimension. You’d have to come back in a few weeks to sell what you’d stolen, but that was something you could worry about later on. You’d earned your haul, tonight. “It’s been fun, Miguel, baby,” You let your swing go wide, vaulting yourself towards the ceiling and landing just underneath your escape hatch. You let yourself hang there for just a second longer than you could afford, flashing another smile toward Miguel before—

Before you felt his webbing latch onto your lower back, wrenching you away from the domed ceiling and sending you plummeting downward before you could think to react. Your back hit the floor with enough force to crack the marble, your rucksack of stolen art and jewelry landing somewhere to your left and spilling open. With any chance of escaping Miguel gone and your latest haul scattered across the museum floor, you went limp, letting a pained groan slip past your lips. That was the thing about super-durability. The fall hadn’t broken every bone in your body, but your bones didn’t know that.

Miguel was bolting towards you in a second, on top of you in another. You managed to lift your arm, but your web-shooters only responded with a sad, dry grinding – out of ammo, because you always ran out of webbing at the worst times. His hand shot to his mask, his bared fangs catching in the dim light, but you raised your hands in surrender before he could bite down. “Hey, hey, you can save that for the thirst traps. I can spend the next twelve hours catatonic without your help.” With a heavy sigh, you collapsed, letting another wave of aching soreness wash over you before going on. “Take me home. I’m done for the night.”

It took him a few seconds to bite back his anger, to put on that stoic, put-together face you loved to tease him for. Pursed lips, narrowed eyes – all the things that’d fall away as soon as you got on his nerves. “You’re not getting off that easily, this time.”

“C’mon, Miguel, what do you think you’re going to do to me? Lock me in a cell for a couple days? Let your mega-spider bite me? Lecture me until I buy into your ‘great power comes with great responsibility’ bullshit?” Even exhausted and worn down, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. He made himself an easy target, and you’d always loved the taste of low-hanging fruit. “We both know how this works. You toss me around a little, tell me to spend more of my time saving orphaned puppies trapped in burning buildings, then send me back to my own dimension. Don’t tell me you’re gonna break our routine now.”

He didn’t answer, a pressed scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth as he worked off his mask. He hand dropped to the collar of your suit, and you let out another laugh, this one more nervous than the last. “Are you going to take my watch? You know I’ll just make another one when I get home.”

His fist wrapped around your stolen necklace, wrenching it off of you with enough force to snap the silver, jewel-studded chain and send rubies and sapphires scattering around you. You watched the precious gems clatter to the floor, mentally tallying up how much you could’ve gotten for each. Clearly, Miguel wasn’t as concerned with their value as you were. “You’re not going home.”

“Miguel, that’s not fun—”

“Say my name one more time and I swear I’ll—” He cut himself off with a throaty growl, turning his claws toward your chest. Before you could so much as think to panic, the front of your suit had been torn to tattered shreds, leaving you vulnerable and exposed to the open air and thrashing against the hand now wrapped around your neck, clawing at his wrist and kicking at his chest for all you were worth. If Miguel noticed your meager attempts at resistance, he didn’t seem fazed, didn’t feel the need to respond with anything more than a harsher glare, a straighter posture, a row of pointed nails driven that much deeper into the side of your throat. “Cállate. Just shut up and take what you deserve.”

The palm pressed into the base of your windpipe, a flash of sharpened teeth in the corner of your vision, and then, Miguel’s fangs were planted in your neck, his venom sent coursing through your veins. The feeling, while unpleasant, wasn’t alien to you. You were hyper-aware of your joints locking into place, your limbs going stiff and still, a heavy fog forming over the part of your brain that told the rest of your body to get up and fight. He pulled away before the numbness set in, before you could completely float into that void of immobile, oblivious existence, but when you tried to lift your arm, to kick at his chest, your body failed to respond. You cursed under your breath, glaring at Miguel, but he'd already moved on.

A gloved hand worked its way under the tattered remains of your suit, grazing over your lower stomach before cupping your cunt. It was the adrenaline, the high and the sudden let-down. Miguel must’ve known that, but it did little to dampen the condescension in his faint smirk as he collected your slick on his fingertips, swiping the pad of his thumb over your clit and drinking in the way your expression contorted. “Little slut,” he muttered, the scarlet shine of your blood still visible on his fangs. “You’re already soaked. Can’t let someone put their hands on you without dripping all over them, huh?”

You grit your teeth, doing what you could to swallow back a half-choked moan. “Stop,” And then, with more than a note of desperation in your voice, “This is a crime, you’re not supposed to—”

The air hitched in your throat as he brought his open palm down on your cunt – the blow rough, sudden, sharp. If you’d been able to, you would’ve gone stiff, would’ve lashed out, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm, couldn’t do anything but hold your breath and stifle a pained moan as the first blow was followed by another, then another, then another, until your cunt was sore and throbbing, until there were tears forming in the corners of your eyes and Miguel was breathing heavily above you. “I told you to be quiet.” It was a hiss, more than anything. A threat he could carry out, but not say aloud. “I’d tell you not to make this worse for yourself, but you were always going to find a way to make this more difficult than it had to be.”

You moved to apologize reflexively, to beg him to let you go, but he clearly didn’t have an interest in anything you had to say. He was already shoving two fingers into your burning entrance, adding something else to the ache – not quite pleasure, but not as far as you needed it to be, either. Everything he did was rough, cruel, from the way he stretched you open to how much force he used while grinding the heel of his palm into your clit. Everything he did was less for your gratification and more for his own entertainment, for as humorless as he’d always seemed to you before. Miguel’s paralysis limited your reactions, stopped you from grinding into his hand or squirming underneath him, but it didn’t help to hide your expression, to stop you from biting your lips or rolling your head to the side, giving in to the baselessly hopeful part of your mind yelling that not looking at Miguel would make him leave. He only laughed, the noise low and dark and infinitely more than anything he’d ever given you, before. That made sense. Miguel had always struck you as the kind of man who could only let his guard down after he’d already broken through yours – this was just the first time he’d gotten the chance to prove you right.

Eventually, he pulled back, drawing an airy whimper from the base of your throat at the sudden lack of stimulation. There was a wet, distorted sound you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a fist wrapped around your arm, and then, he was turning you onto your chest, keeping your wrists pressed against your back with one hand while the other spread your thighs apart. You felt his cock, already hard, already thick enough to send a pang of dread to your core, against your ass, and suddenly, you were very aware of just how easily he towered over you, just how little effort it took for him to press his chest into your back and cage you underneath him. Even if you hadn’t been paralyzed, you didn’t know if you’d be able to do anything to get away from him. Not after you’d already been caught in his web.

“You’re going to cum on my cock,” You felt his lips against your ear, the low timbre of his voice reverberating in the back of your mind. “And you’re going to fucking thank me, when you do.”

There might’ve been more. There probably was, but whatever he said was drowned out by a dull, droning buzzing in your ears – a lifeless static that nearly blocked out the feeling of his hands on your hips, his knee nudging your legs apart, the leaking head of his cock resting against your entrance before he thrust into you, splitting you open in an instant.

He was so, so much bigger than you. Even with the fall, even with his venom, you could still feel so much of him, still couldn’t seem to block out the way your own dripping cunt struggled to clench down around the girth of his cock. You let out a fractured gasp but regretted it immediately, trembling as you struggled to inhale while feeling so impossibly full. There might’ve been blood. It was hard to tell with the slick dripping down your thighs, with Miguel lapping over the side of your throat. He sounded animalistic, growling as he rolled his hips and buried himself deeper in your core, his nails burrowing into your hips and mangling what was left of your poor, ruined suit. You’d have to make a new one, when you got back to your own dimension, when you got back to your tiny apartment already over-crowded with stolen art and half-finished projects. If Miguel ever let you go back.

“You’re tight for a little whore.” He made no effort to be gentle, to hold back, to do anything but bully your cunt, bruise your ass, leave you breathless and struggling just to keep yourself sane. “Must be a tease,” he went on, dropping a hand to your clit and rubbing circles into the abused bundle of nerves. “That’s it. Stealing everything you could get your hands on, wrecking the multiverse – that was just your way of getting my attention, huh? Bet you were just waiting for someone to pin you down and fuck you.”

You could feel your legs starting to shake, in spite of the paralysis. “Please, I can’t—”

“So fucking needy, too.” There was a deep laugh, an open-mouthed kiss pressed into the curve of your throat. “I’ll have to put a collar on you. Might catch you bending over for the first person you see if nobody knows who you— fuck, who you belong to.”

His pace had been punishing from the start, but at that, it turned brutal. You felt tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, a tight knot of tension forming deep in your core. His cock beat against something sensitive and vulnerable in your pussy and you screamed, a strangled moan tearing past your lips. “Please, Miguel, I need you to stop—"

Your voice gave out before you could finish, but that was all Miguel needed to hear. Before you could take it back, before you could bite your tongue and curse yourself for trying to say anything at all, his hand was on your neck, cutting off your oxygen supply and leaving you choking for air, leaving your cunt convulsing around him. “De nuevo.” It was a demand, an order. You were starting to wonder if he knew any other way to speak. “Say that again, before I change my mind and snap your neck.”

“Miguel.” Croaked, airy, only half-coherent. When his grip only grew tighter, you said it again, and again, and again, his name forming an incomprehensible mantra that played in-time with the pulsing in the back of your skull, in the walls of your pussy. You felt yourself clench around him, your vision burning white as either his cock or the lack of oxygen or some awful combination of the two vaulted you to a breath-stealing, mind-numbing climax – strong enough and blinding enough to leave you crashing on the downswing, plummeting into an infinite abyss of searing heat and overstimulation as soon as your climax gave out under his violent affection. Vaguely, you were aware of Miguel’s touch growing rougher, of his voice in your ear, of his cum flooding into your sore pussy. He made no attempt to pull out, but you weren’t surprised. You didn’t know if anything Miguel did could surprise you, anymore.

You were in a haze as Miguel drew back, nipping at the corner of your jaw one more time before finally letting you go. It wasn’t his venom keeping you still, anymore, but your own exhaustion – weighing you down as he lifted you into his arms, letting you rest your head against his chest. Through your eyelashes, your watched Miguel type something into his watch, a neon-shaded portal cutting through the fabric of reality a moment later. You tried to protest, to call on whatever hidden pocket of strength you still had and get away from him, but all you managed to do was squirm in his arms and let out a small, pathetic whine. Miguel responded by pressing his lips against your forehead, chuckling softly. As if this was funny to him. As if he found this cute. “Settle down. You have nothing to worry about.”

He smiled for the first time that night, and you felt something in the pit of your stomach crack.

“I’m taking you home.”

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