#bad decisions HQ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angel-eyes05 · 11 months

Text

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 2)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: life on the run is not for the weak. you're reminded of this once you run into someone you haven't seen in a while

warnings: a lot of angst (there'll be fluff and smut soon i swear i just feel like writing angst right now lmao), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane

word count: 2.2k

notes: ok so i changed my mind, miguel and the reader arent gonna make up just yet🤭. trust me when they do it'll be worth it lmao. im gonna need everyone to suspend their belief for the next chapters cause im kind of just making up the plot to beyond the spider-verse at this point for this silly little fic so just go with it

---------------------------------------------------

God, this was very quickly turning out to be a very bad decision. The movies made being on the run seem a lot easier than this. What they had failed to include was how easily it was to get ambushed by Spider-Society members while hopping between the dimensions looking for Miles. Your little group basically had to hop through a bunch of different dimensions within a week and look for him there, then leave before HQ managed to track you guys down. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you left. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. The passage of time was pretty weird when you were constantly hopping through the fabric of space and time. All you knew is that your eyes had naturally dulled out the neon orange light that shined from the portals you were constantly jumping through. Luckily, none of your team had been caught yet. There had been a few close calls, but only two of those led to severe injuries, one of them being Gwen, and the other time being you.

---------------------------------------------------

You and your team had been ambushed due to a malfunction with the portal opening. Each of you were put with your own variant to fight. Just to your luck, you were confronted by Jess. She looked awful to be honest. Stressed. She was probably put on finding you and your team while Miguel endlessly searched for Miles. This little wild goose chase had tired her out. Part of you felt bad. But that was very quickly overcome by the feeling of betrayal growing in your chest. You had a feeling she felt a similar way. “Please don’t make me do this. Just let me take you home,” she said weakly. Home. That’s right. That's basically what HQ had been to you before. You hadn’t been back to your Earth in five years, ever since Miguel caught you on the top of that building. Jessica was your first friend there. She had shown you the ropes to everything, been there for you during your lowest moments, and guided you to your highest ones. And now you had to repay her by sending her back to Miguel in a bloody pulp. You hated that this is how things had to go. But such was life for someone like you. “I have no home anymore,” you said at her monotonically before charging at her with your fists first. She’s quick to react, using one of her webs to swing away. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, each of her movements swift to defend herself, but never going on the offensive side. She could easily take you down if she wanted to. She had been doing this longer than you had and was more skilled than you too. She was going easy on you, desperately trying to show you she didn’t want to fight. But you didn’t care. You had put too much on the line to start to give up now.

The others had taken down their foes long before you had finished with Jess. You could see Gwen running up to you out of the corner of your eye, Ben tied up in a web behind her. You webbed her to the floor before she could get closer to the struggle you and Jess were currently in. You gave Gwen a quick, reassuring nod that she returned before running off to find the others. Once Gwen was out of sight, you quickly attached a web to Jess’ face, and pulled it down into your knee, knocking her glasses off her face and shattering on the floor. With her off her balance, you took the opportunity to try to knock her out. You slammed your fists into her face, one after the other, releasing all of the stress that had accumulated in your body over the past couple of months into her cheeks. You couldn’t see the damage you were doing, blinded by rage and betrayal and your fists blocking out her face. The only thing you could see was the blood splattering off of her face onto yours. You felt a voice in the back of your head begging you to stop. You desperately wanted to, but you had lost control of your body. Jess wasn’t the real person you wanted to hurt here, you already knew who that was. But she was the closest thing you could get to him right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, she wasn’t completely innocent to you either.

In her last desperate attempt to save herself, Jess shoved her forearm in the way of your balled up knuckles, grabbed a piece of shattered glass from her broken frames, and shoved it deep into your chest. Your reign of fury on her face suddenly stopped as pain quickly snapped through your body. You quickly fell to your knees, partially out of shock, and looked down to see the blood spilling out of your chest. As Jess dropped to her knees as well, you could finally get a gauge of the damage you’ve done. You couldn’t tell if the blood loss was making you see things, but her nose looked almost crooked, a dark cut slicing through the middle of it and blood pouring out of both nostrils. Both of her eyes were swollen, not entirely shut but on their way there. You looked down at your hands, the skin on your knuckles broken off and bleeding through the fabric of your suit, blending in with its natural red. They were trembling with a mixture of faded anger and new guilt. I never wanted to hurt her, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, as if it was going to make any difference. Maybe if you thought it hard enough, it would erase your actions. You suddenly flinched when you felt Jessica’s hand cupping your face. You looked up at her, mouth agape. Her soft thumb brushed your face as she stared lovingly at your face. So she did know. That made you feel a little less stupid when you broke down in front of her then and there. You just felt awful. Jess was your friend. Your best friend probably. And look at what you’ve done to her. You couldn’t understand how she managed to still be so soft with you, despite how much you’ve just mutilated her face.

It was ever harder for you to understand how quickly she enveloped you as soon as she saw the tears begin to streak her face. You didn’t deserve this. You should run away. You need to run away. You’re currently bleeding out, and you’re just sitting here, sobbing into the crook of her neck. She’s probably just stalling for time and holding you here until help comes for her. But the longer you sat here the longer you realized…this was just her. It was only Jess here. No help was coming. Jess just wanted to hold you again one last time before letting you run away again. Once you pulled away from her, she wiped away your tears. “Don’t let me catch you,” she whispered into your ear. It was a reminder to you that while she was still holding onto her beliefs, that didn’t mean she ever stopped caring for you. She helped to push you up off of the ground, her hands now covered in your blood. You began to walk away out of the dark alley to look for the others. Before leaving entirely, you turned around to look at Jess, still laying there. “I’ll find you once this is all over. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” you shouted at her. She gave a simple nod in return, watching as you stumbled out of alley way. While you made the ultimate decision to let her live that day, you still had anger boiling up in your body. Somebody had to pay for all of this. All of this chaos that was about to unleash itself onto the multiverse. And you know exactly who did. And you didn’t intend to show him the same mercy you showed Jess. No. This was a job you intended to finish.

---------------------------------------------------

Thankfully, your chest laceration healed up quicker than expected, allowing you and your teammates to get back on track. Images of your encounter with Jess replayed through your mind for the next couple of weeks. The only other person you told about the details of your brutalization of Jess was Peter B., knowing he would understand with all the hard decisions he’s had to make himself. Gwen and Hobie had also noticed that you were acting a little bit off, but you avoided the subject every time they would bring it up.

Suddenly though, it was happening. The moment you and your team had anticipated for the past couple of weeks. You were awoken by the bright glow of three orange portals opening up, three Spider-Men in each. Your team sprang awake and began to make a run for it. It was no use though, as one by one, each member of your team was separated by a different group of variants, until it was just you, Gwen, and Peter running. While you were running, you felt a hand yank at the hair on the back of your head. You quickly turned around and found Ben Reilly as the culprit. You didn’t hesitate to jump into the air and kick his face, pushing him off of you and onto the floor. As the three of you kept running, your attention was suddenly caught by something else. “Keep your hands off her! That one’s mine!” you heard the familiar voice call out to Ben. A chill went down your spine, as the three of you stopped dead in your tracks. You did it. You finally managed to lure the bat out of his cave. Before you could turn around and find the face that belonged to that deep, alluring voice, you were caught off guard as you felt a body dive into your stomach at full speed, knocking all of the air out of you lungs. The pure force of the dive pushed you and the figure into the brick wall of an abandoned building, crashing into the structure.

Vision and hearing fuzzy from the impact, you heard Gwen scream out your name and begin to start running to you, before her and Peter B. get swept up by their own variants to take care of. Your head throbs in pain as you look around the building, feeling a huge weight on your chest. You look down at the rest of your body to find what’s weighing you down so much. And it’s him. Miguel’s massive body laying on top of you, his head dug into your stomach and arms wrapped around your waist from the dive. You were partially in shock. First of all, from the fact that your first interaction with him in months is him attempting to kill you (although it’d be a lie to say you weren’t thinking similar things). Second, you were still reeling from the blow. And third, the most shocking of all, was that this was arousing you in some way. Despite how much anger you were feeling towards him right now, you still managed to get butterflies in your stomach from how much of him was on top of you right now. He basically enveloped all of the lower half of your body.

Shame and anger filled your body fast as you tried to push him off of you, any attempts in vain though due to how massive he was. He helped you though when he began to stand up, allowing you to get yourself up and dive through his legs as an escape. Just as you made your attempt to run out of the hole in the wall, away from a fight you know you couldn’t win, Miguel’s giant hand wrapped around your forearm. He pulled your body back to face him and slammed his massive fist into your face. Blood spurted out of your nose purely from the impact and you were nearly knocked onto the floor. You grabbed your nose in reaction and looked up at him towering over you, unable to make out his expression from his mask. “You must’ve been thinking about this encounter for a while. Have you been thinking about me, Miggy?” you quipped at him. Usually you spoke playfully with him whenever you were in a good mood with him, but this time it was your one desperate attempt to push down any feelings that would get in the way of you doing what needed to be done. “Don’t feel so flattered cariño. Whatever happens here isn’t personal,” he said in that deep, flirty tone you always found so sexy. But right now all it did was piss you off even more. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” you said, dropping the slight smirk you had on your face. Taking action right away, you charged right at him, ready to do it right this time. You just wished he had his mask off so you could look him dead straight in his crimson eyes as you killed him.

---------------------------------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: i had night shift by lucy dacus on loop while writing the fight with jessica....thats all ill say on the matter. also sorry miguel's barely in this chapter i need to set up plot and shit. ALSO I JUST WANNA PREFACE, MY FIC TAKES PLACE A COUPLE OF MONTHS AFTER ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SO JESS HAD ALREADY GIVEN BIRTH. I SWEAR Y/N DID NOT JUST BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF A PREGNANT LADY💀💀💀

taglist: @sunfairyy @ladespedidas @jenniferdixon05207 @chalametet @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @trying-2bcool @deputy-videogamer @chatoicboy @cookielovesbook-akie @impettywhenyouare @unnamedgayperson @sin4tra @twentysomethingwereyote @cherrymanhuas @sagejin @isaidoop @hysteriaabsd @autismsupermusicalassassin @persimmoned-fig @dcsuperheros @amodernarrietty @konniebon @barbi-e7 @venus1224idkpleaze @almondlocust @babybella777 @urmomcomsiimiamour @96jnie @cryptidwlw69 @mirrorball-6 @whosace16 @wolfiepirate @gobblegluckgluckgod @keenzinemugstudent @bitchotine @leopandabearsblog @blumin8 @malynn @mearss @yu-rylee @myhomethesea @ashjbu @skcj24 @joanne-uwu @y2ksitgirl @inosukesweirdwife @a-simp-20 @shibble @euphoricfics @hwanunjin

#fanfic #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse #fem!reader #fanfiction #jessica drew

2K notes · View notes

moon-rivr · 8 months

Text

friends with benefits part 2

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

warnings: a bit of miguel being a stalker, angst (?), oral (f receiving), missionary, mating press, cowgirl, overall smut

author’s note: oh em gee, thank you for all the support on part one <33. i hope you enjoy this part and sorry for getting carried away LOL

word count: 3073 🫣 part one here

It had been two months since Miguel had ended the arrangement with you and had regretted the decision ever since the words came out of his mouth that he didn't want to see you again. Truth was, he missed the way your scent lingered on his bedsheets for a couple days after you came over or the way your eyes lit up when he engaged in a bit of conversation with you before he fucked the shit out of you. But he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it, much less admit it to you. Regardless, he still found a way back to you, creeping up on the rooftop opposite of your apartment building and just watching you. He knew it wasn't right to feel possessive over you, but he would rather have you be crying over him than smile at someone else.

However, what Miguel didn't know, is that you were faking your excitement with your friend, trying to motivate yourself into going out again and dating. Your friend had been there when you arrived at her place two months at four in the morning, babbling and crying about how Miguel ended things with you, constantly reminding you that you were a bad bitch and that you deserved better than only being wanted after midnight. You were mostly doing this to make yourself feel better, growing tired of being melancholy all the time, rather than actually having interest in the guy you were going out with. You knew it was wrong to use someone else to heal the pain someone else left, but meaningless sex and dates was the only thing that could help soothe the ache you felt from Miguel's absence.

Miguel locked himself in his office in HQ, throwing computer monitors and slamming them against walls in frustration. He eventually calmed down a couple minutes afterwards, deciding to pull up his file with Gabriella up as he stared at the pictures, the laughter from his 'daughter' filling up his ears. he couldn't help but think about you, what it would've like to introduce you to Gabriella. He knew you two would've gotten along, both of you reminded him of a ray of sunshine on a snowy, cold day, providing him the warmth and light that he needed in his life. It was with those thoughts that he sat down at one of his office chairs, grabbing a bottle of Don Julio that he kept around the office for when he wanted to mourn in his sorrows. He played "Nadie es Eterno" by Dario Gomez, warm tears rolling down his cheeks as he drank the tequila straight from the bottle.

Jessica Drew walked into the office, her eyes slightly narrowed as she looked around for Miguel. She saw the tall man slouched on his desk, mouth slightly parted as he snored and gripped a half empty bottle of tequila in his hand, gently tapping on his shoulder. Miguel stirred awake, letting go of the bottle of tequila as he rubbed his eyes, getting adjusted to the light in the room. "I brought you an empanada," she said, placing the plastic box on his desk as she sits down on the office chair next to him. "If you're here to psychoanalyze me, I don't want to hear it," Miguel muttered, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol and from the crying. "I just want to know why you're drinking on the job again, Miguel," Jessica replied, keeping her voice light and gentle when speaking to him as she placed her arm on his shoulder. Miguel debated on telling her everything that had happened with you, deciding that he should so he could get some insight on what to do from here.

"So, you stopped the sleeping arrangement you had with her because you started developing feelings?" Jessica asked, basically summarizing what he had said as he nodded, placing his head in his hand, realizing how stupid it sounded when she said it like that. "You're one of the smartest people I know, but even you have to realize how stupid that sounds, Miguel," she said, mirroring what he was now repeating in his brain. "Look, I get that losing Gabriella traumatized you, and it's hard dealing with that type of loss, but it's also not an excuse to close yourself off on love. Think of all that you're missing, and yes, some people don't last very long but sometimes their presence in your life is worth it," she added, rubbing his shoulder and grabbing the tequila before walking away. Miguel let out a small sigh as he rubbed his eyes, knowing that Jessica was right.

A few days had passed by, and it was finally time for you to go on a date with the coffee shop guy. You let out a small sigh as you looked out the window, letting your mind drift off before you had to go get ready. You changed from your normal moping sweatpants into a pretty pink sundress and white flats, already starting to feel a bit better. You sat at your vanity, starting to do your makeup when you heard a knock on your front door. You knew your date wouldn't be due for a couple more hours, so you were confused as to who was at your door right now. You opened the door, surprised by the man who was standing in front of you.

Miguel looked at you as you opened the door, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, your favorite, to be specific. You were about to close the door, your eyes starting to sting from the tears you were holding back when Miguel placed his foot on the door. "Look, you don't have to forgive me but at least just hear me out, please," he spoke up after a couple seconds of silence, the desperation in his voice evident. You decided to open the door, at least for the sake of closure, and stepped back to let him inside. You sat down on the couch opposite from him, facing him with your arms folded as you waited for him to speak.

He looked over at you, taking in how painstakingly gorgeous you looked for someone else, before clearing his throat. "So, I was an asshole," he started, watching as you nodded your head in agreement. "I regret the fact that I made you cry. Look the truth is, I ended the arrangement between the two of us because I was starting to fall in love with you, found myself wanting more time with you than just having you in my bed, and that scared the shit out of me. I pushed you away because I was afraid of losing you like I lost Gabriella," he added in after, letting his head drop as he waited for you to say something, say anything. "I understand that it's hard to love again after that, but you threw me away like I was a used toy you got tired of playing with. Just give me some time to think about all this and I'll get back to you," you promised, watching as he got up, wrapping his arms around you and leaving the flowers on the coffee table before he left.

Despite the fact that Miguel had come over to your place and you were ready to forgive him on the spot, you still decided to go out with the guy at the coffee shop. You wanted to prove something to yourself, that you were fine without Miguel. But the truth was you really weren't. You kept comparing this guy to Miguel: how much smaller he was in comparison, the way he talked, and even the way he dressed. You gave yourself a chance to pretend to be interested in what this guy was saying, but while he was going on about business mergers and stocks, you found yourself daydreaming about being with Miguel once more.

"Thank you for the coffee, this was a lovely date but I think we would be better off as friends," you offered with a polite smile, extending your hand out to Lucas, the guy you were going out with. "I would like that, thanks for joining me for this," he said, returning the smile and shaking your hand. You left the coffee shop a while later, taking the scenic view home as you walked down the street of Nueva York, seeing the small snowflakes start to fall. You glanced over at Central Park, seeing couple after couple snuggled up together and talking, some throwing snowballs at each other, and found yourself wanting that with Miguel.

Which is how you found yourself knocking on Miguel's door a couple hours later, shivering from the cold despite your winter coat. You looked up at Miguel when he opened the door, the exhaustion evident on his features but he still offered you a small smile, stepping back to let you in. He took off his glasses and sat down next to you on the couch, folding his arms on his lap. "I don't want to be the person you call after midnight anymore; I want to mean something more to you than just a quick fuck," you spoke up after a couple seconds later, looking up at him as you took in his expression. "I didn't go to your house to convince you to be a quick fuck. I went because I'm so in love with you that it hurts, it hurts not having you next to me and it hurts not being able to call you," he replied, holding your hands in his as he put his heart on the line. "Show me how much you love me," you whispered, leaning into him as you kissed his cheek.

He took you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed your collarbone, nipping on the skin before setting you down on the bed. He hovered above you, his lips wrapped around yours as he kissed you passionately. He nipped down on your bottom lip, reveling in the small moan you let out and slipping his tongue in your mouth. He took his time, exploring your mouth as if it was the first time while his hands entangled in your hair. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer to him as he pulled away, his lips attaching themselves to your neck. He nibbled gently at some of the spots below your shirt, marking you as his. He nipped at your skin, licked, and kissed before he pulled away, taking off your shirt and jacket.

He let out a small groan as he saw the white bra you were wearing, the color practically tempting him closer. He leaned in, his mouth closing around where your areola was and started sucking on your nipples through the bra. He pulled away a couple seconds later, working on taking your bra as quick as he could. "Need to taste you," he muttered before his mouth attached to one of your breasts, licking around the nipple as his hand massaged the other one. Your hand intertwined in his hair, gently tugging on the strands as your breathing started to grow heavier. He pulled away, gently biting on your breasts, not wanting to leave a spot that wasn't marked by him.

He pulled your pants off, tossing them to the side as he kissed down your stomach, gently nipping on the skin before reaching your thighs. He adjusted himself in between your legs, his eyes looking directly at you as he kissed your inner thighs. He gently nipped on the skin there, before his eyes went down to the wet spot on your panties, his mouth following suit. He licked through your panties, letting out a groan as your hands gently tugged on his hair. He wanted to take his time, show you how much he appreciated the opportunity you were giving him, but he quickly left that once you started grinding on his face, needing more than he was giving you. He pulled off your panties, putting them in his pocket before his mouth attached itself to your pussy.

He licked on your folds, his hands wrapped on your thighs before his tongue plunged inside you. He looked up at you as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, his spit mixing with your juices. He let out a small hum as your hands tangled in his hair again, his mouth attaching to your clit and his pointer finger plunging deep inside of you. You arched your back as he began moving his finger, his finger curling to hit that spot inside of you. He put another finger in, plunging inside of you as he felt your walls clench around your fingers. "Thaaat's it," he murmured, looking up at you as you started to rock your hips on his fingers. Your walls clenched tightly around him, babbling nonsense about your impending orgasm while your back arched as his tongue circled on your clit. You let out a moan as your hands wrapped in his hair, coming all around his fingers. He licked your release off his fingers, letting out a small moan as he got up, taking off his shirt.

You were about to get down on your knees to return the favor, but he stopped you, placing you back on the bed. "Maybe later, querida. This is all for you," he murmured, his head resting on your neck as he kissed your pulse point. He slid off his pants, laying you down on the bed as he grabbed a condom from the bedstand. He gave himself a tentative pump, sliding the condom in before slipping inside of you, letting out a small groan as your walls clenched tightly around him, trying to accommodate to his size. He leaned his head down, giving you small kisses as he pushed deeper inside of you, letting you get used to it once more. "No sabes cuánto te amo," he whispered, starting to thrust his hips once your walls opened up around him. He started off slow, a vast difference than your past experiences, given the fact that there was no rush of him trying to get you out of his bed. (darling/you don't know how much i love you)

He sped up a few minutes later, his hips snapping against yours as he sought out to make you cum. You moved your hands to his back, leaving scratches in your wake as he continued to thrust at an inhuman pace inside of you. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach building up, your toes curling as his cock continued to hit your g spot. The knot unraveled as his hand went down to your clit while his thumb rubbed small circles on it, your orgasm making a creamy white ring around his cock.

He put your knees up to your chest, starting to thrust inside of you once more, the angle allowing him to plunge deeper inside of you. His hips snapped against yours, a small smirk on his face as he watched your dazed eyes and your lips parted in a 'o' shape, babbling small broken whispers of his name. He had one hand on your hip to ease him in, moving faster against you while his other hand was on your clit, rubbing small circles on it. He let out a small moan as he felt your walls clenching tightly around his cock, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix from this angle. "Come for me, princesita," he whispered as he saw your hands tugging on the bedsheets, your face contorted in pure pleasure. Your toes curled as you reached your peak, coating his cock with your release once more. (princess)

You took a moment to get yourself back together before getting on top of him, slowly pumping his cock underneath. You positioned yourself above him, slowly starting to slide into his cock, both of you letting out a small moan as you bottomed out. His hands moved to your hips, gripping them as he helped you move on his length. Your walls clenched tightly around him as you moved your hips against his, undulating them. You felt his cock move against your g spot once more as your legs starting to shake as you slid down his shaft, his hands now massaging your breasts. You started to slow down, feeling a soreness in your legs when Miguel grabbed your hips, his hips snapping off the bed as he started to thrust into you. You reached down, your hands on his chest as you moved easier on his cock, letting out moans from the pleasure you were receiving. You started rubbing on your clit, feeling yourself grow closer and closer to your climax as Miguel continued to move deep inside of you. You let out a loud moan as you came, your walls clenching around Miguel tightly. “Mierda,” he hissed, feeling himself get closer to his orgasm, his breath heavy. He released his cum onto the condom with a loud moan of your name, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You took a couple seconds to regain your composure, getting off from him as he stood up, going to dispose of the condom.

You were about to leave, something out of habit mostly, getting your clothes from the floor as you began getting dressed. You stopped in your tracks when Miguel grabbed your arm, turning you around to look at him as he cleared his throat.

"Stay the night, chiquitita."

@chshiresins @casuallyawkardd @zaunsin @6thhokageswife @thenanowriter @m4dyy

#moon-rivr #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman atsv #spiderman smut

860 notes · View notes

kaitsawamura · 23 days

Text

-> somebody come get her (she's dancing like a stripper)

-> SUMMARY

You have bills to pay. That's the only thing on your mind when you go in for your shift at the strip club. The only thing on your mind until you see Daichi.

Daichi doesn't expect to find you, the girl of his dreams, at the strip club. In fact, he's 99% certain he shouldn't be here. But now he can't stop thinking of all the things he'd let you do to him.

Will your mutual attraction pay off for the both of you?

-> STATS

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Stripper!Reader (get that bread!)

Rating: M for Mature, MDNI

Warnings: My take on a corruption kink except Daichi's the one getting corrupted

Tags: Corruption, strangers to lovers, smut I tell you, filthy filthy smut with my husband, strip club au, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, a bit of choking (like a tiny bit), hair pulling, nasty nasty f*cking with my husband, sex in public (sorta, it's in a public restroom), a little dominant confident Reader (if I missed anything y'all can let me know in the DM's)

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: I knew the moment I saw Mint's post . : HERE : . that I had to write something about it. They obligingly gave me the go ahead to be inspired so off I went a-writing. Obviously, this might be considered mild corruption by some but to me? This was like I went into a blackout and woke up not knowing what year it was. So, here you go, enjoy some nasty filthy smut with my love!

-> LINKS

Main Masterlist

HQ Masterlist

Playlist

Moodboard

“Rent’s due on Monday,” your roommate reminds you, concern masked with sympathy clear on her face. She’s not trying to be mean or overbearing but damn it, the stress of the situation makes you want to snark back. But you don’t.

“Do you have your half?” She nods. You nod back decisively. “I’m working tonight. Fridays are good days to work. It’s my first one without shadowing anyone. I’ll have the rest of my half in tips, don’t worry.” Her face brightens as she pours herself a glass of orange juice, sunlight streaming in the kitchen window of the tiny two-bedroom apartment you share with her.

“Thank god. The landlord’s being an ass again. We’ve been late one time. I have half a mind to give him a list of all the things wrong in this shithole instead of the check.” You roll your eyes conspiratorially but in reality, you don’t know if you’ll make your half in tips or not. Maybe your boss will give you an advance. You’ll talk to him tonight. He was surprisingly reasonable so the odds were at least in your favor.

Either way, you’ll get the money. You just hope you’ll be able to put the nervous energy thrumming through your veins to good use.

Daichi Sawamura should not have come here tonight. The guys in the office had convinced him, said there was a new pretty girl who was exactly his type. But this place was not the sort he was used to coming to. It wasn’t that this establishment was a bad one or that he had any problem with it; people had to make money how they could. Empowerment and autonomy and all that. It was more that he felt a little inadequate if he was being completely honest with himself. He wouldn’t know what to do with someone from here. He was used to good girls, the ones who had a routine and didn’t like anything too kinky. Which was also fine. But there were things he wanted to try, had a suspicion he would like that he just couldn’t ask of anyone he’d been with. He scrubbed a hand over his face, realizing the conversation he was having completely in his head was stressing him out.

“Dai, bro, just relax. She’s pretty. You better tip her good but you don’t have to talk to anyone but me and the bartender if you don’t want to. Just enjoy the show.” Kuroo smirks at his friend; it has been a long week. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve to wind down. Part of him just wishes he was doing it in the comfort of his home, with his favorite ramen from around the corner and a good movie. But who knows, maybe he’s getting complacent.

So he sits in the seat Kuroo has pulled out for him, a front-row spot directly in the middle of the runway. Right in front of the center pole. The seats are comfortable and he’s got a whiskey neat in his hands. He can feel a little of the stress release from the muscles in his traps, can feel his jaw unclench just in the slightest as the first warm sip of whiskey flows down his throat.

This is fine, he reassures himself, pushing work from his brain. Kuroo takes a sip from his own drink, a fruity one that he insists is the most delicious ever but is just a little too sweet for Daichi. The place is in a lull right now, preparing for the next act. But soon there’s a growing murmur from the back. Someone whistles, and a few others catcall. Daichi bristles just a bit, but he can’t even see anything until you hit the steps and it’s then that Kuroo elbows him.

“That’s her,” he says, raising his voice so Daichi can hear over the now thrumming bass. He feels it in his toes, in his chest, in his head. But your steps, the bounce of your tits in a skimpy bright blue bikini top, he feels in his dick. It barely covers anything, just like the matching bottoms. Cute little bows keep them on your hips and your heels are a deep black. As you get closer, your walk slow and sensuous, he can see the peep toe and your fresh French manicure poking through. He tries to adjust his navy suit pants with little success. He’s in so much fucking trouble.

You strut up the steps, the blinking LED strips embedded into the floor blinking in rhythm with the bass and the rhythm of your hips. You put a little bit of extra attitude into the sway tonight, praying to any higher power that will listen that tonight will be a good one for tips, even though it’s your first show without any supporting performers. Part of you gets it; you’re new. The owner has to make sure you know how to use those doe eyes and amazing tits properly. The other part of you, the one that knows you’re hot and knows exactly what you’re doing, wanted to smirk a little when your boss had said you wouldn’t get a Friday on your own until you’d completed two weeks of bartending and shadowing.

Your hard work has paid off though, and when you take your place at the center of the runway, you know you have your audience hooked even before dancing. There’s one guy in particular, right below you. He got arguably the best seat in the house along with his friend. You’ve seen the friend before, all confidence, slicked-back black hair, and a steamy attractive smile. Your coworkers say he’s pretty regular and always tips well. Thank god. The one next to him though, you don’t know anything about him except for the fact that the five stages of something flow across his face as you make eye contact with him. The low lighting does nothing to hide the blush flushing from the open neck of his crisp white button up to his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. He’s got a wad of cash already set casually on the bar top in front of him.

You smile, bright and unguarded, knowing. You’ll have the rest of Monday’s rent if he’s an indication of the rest of the customers that will be coming in tonight. He turns away, uncomfortable. Aw, how sweet. So unlike some of the slimy patrons you’re used to. Something you don’t like trips low in your belly. The biggest rule was no sex with any of the customers. It was in place for a reason and a majority of the time was a good one. You remind yourself of it as the song for your first dance starts playing over the speakers.

Buss it, buss it, buss it, buss it

Is you fuckin’? Two shots, fuck it

You take a deep breath, hands on the shiny silver pole, and wrap one leg around it. The metal is cold to the touch but something else has goosebumps crawling up your bare skin. When you spin, turning in the new guy’s direction, your suspicions are confirmed that the feeling is not the rest of the eyes on you but his. And his are suddenly, somehow, the only eyes you want to perform for. So you do.

Daichi can feel Kuroo snap to attention next to him; he can’t blame him. You’re stunning and you know it. You look like maybe you shouldn’t know how to do this so well, but none of that matters as all coherent thoughts leave Daichi’s head when you spin and drop, rolling your hips so your ass faces him. You turn and look at him as you rise slowly, a deliciously naughty smile still all over that pretty little mouth. He rushes to take a sip of his drink, drums his fingers on the bartop, runs them through his hair, anything to occupy his hands. Because he knows the only place they really should be is all over you. Oh, the things he would let you do to him. He’d do anything for you. He takes another gulp of whiskey, disappointed when he drains the heavy glass.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He knew you were making eye contact with him but when you get on all fours and crawl to him like some lethal jungle cat, the end of the song nearing, he knows he’s in for it. And he’s okay with that. Any doubts he had, about being here at least, have vanished completely. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he leans forward to meet you where you are at the edge of the stage. The crowd is roaring around him, the cheers only growing louder at the chemistry shooting like electricity through the air between the two of you. They’re jealous cheers he thinks, although he’s sure as hell not looking away long enough to check anyone’s expressions to confirm.

“Got anything good for me, pretty boy?” Your voice is pitched low as you blink big eyes at him, a smirk playing on your lips. Because, goddammit, he is pretty. Prettier than any other patrons you’d ever catered to. You would not mind if he came to be one of your regulars, regardless of any funds that might be exchanged. You would not mind if he came regularly—in your cunt, on your ass, on your tongue… A girl could take her pick with a man like him. Thick dark hair, glittering brown eyes, full lips. A barrel chest and wide shoulders to boot. No sex with the customers, no sex with the customers, no sex with the customers…

You watch, heat pooling low in your belly, as he unbinds the cash you had noticed earlier. You can’t quite figure him out. Because he’s making eye contact with you as he spreads the folded bills, licks his thumb, and pulls out two crisp Benjamins but there is a nervous tremor in his large hands as he passes the bills to you. Your eyes widen, the act dropping momentarily before you catch yourself and push out your bottom lip in a pout.

“Hm, a girl should get a little more than that for such a good performance, don’t you think?” You are completely used to this, the schpeel. You’ve done it thousands of times at the last place you worked and hundreds more at this club. It’s part of the persona within these walls. Mystery man is apparently not used to acting this way. You can see the war within him as you take the bills and he leans back, trying to be casual but every line of him is taught like a rubber band about to break.

“You here all night?” Don’t give anyone your schedule. If they like you enough, they’ll figure it out on their own by being a regular paying customer. You nod, liking this new game. Toeing around something you would normally consider dangerous, if only for all the variables far out of your control. But that makes it all the more fun, especially when he clicks his tongue behind his teeth and replies “Good, then so am I. I have more where that came from. Do you?”

Kuroo is watching the interaction with a gaping mouth. Daichi doesn’t have a clue where this new side of him is coming from. Except. Except he does. And it feels damn good. Despite being sure it is glaringly obvious that he is leaping so far out of his comfort zone, you seem to be very receptive. He shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of staying all night. He could use some sleep. But he could also use that mouth around his cock. You probably have rules, rules that should be followed, for your safety. Daichi knows he’s safe, but you don’t. He most definitely should not ask for your number or give you his or ask what time you’re off. You shouldn’t answer him.

But you do, nodding earnestly when he asks if you’ll be here all night. He has no choice. There’s something about you that he can’t shake off. The extra cash is of no consequence to him, and maybe, just maybe… No, he won’t let that thought go further. He won’t imagine how you’d look on your knees, or bouncing on his cock. He won’t imagine you writhing beneath him or securing him to his headboard with those cuffs he’d bought but never gotten to use. He won’t imagine you breathily calling him pretty boy again even though, fuck, he wishes you would so, so bad.

“What’s your name,” you ask before you can stop yourself, before you rise to your feet. The rules here are good ones, meant to keep both the patrons and performers safe. You’d worked at other establishments before that didn’t care so much about safety so much as they cared about money. Your radar has never been off in the past and maybe that shouldn’t be enough for you but everything about Mystery Man makes you want to break every rule ever set before you. There’s something about him that makes you want to risk it all. You want to hear him whimper and you’d place bets that you could get him to do it in record time. Even now, his breathing is shallow and he seems unable to answer you. His friend leans over, elbowing him into action.

“His name’s Daichi. And mine’s Kuroo. Ya know, in case you wanted to know.” His smile is genuine, not creepy at all. You return the grin as you stand before turning back to Daichi. He straightens a little, snapped back to reality by his friend.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say to Kuroo. He is attractive, just not who you have your eyes set on. But it’s good information to pass along to your coworkers. Judging by his tailored suit that fits just as good as Daichi’s, you’d wager his job pays like his friend’s. The music swells again, the DJ cueing to your next song. “Kuroo, make sure your friend doesn’t go anywhere. Tonight’s for him.” Kuroo scoffs in friendly disbelief at Daichi’s luck.

“I’m hauling you to the club more often,” he says to Daichi, who flashes a quick small smile. Oh god, that smile could bring anyone you know to their knees. It could certainly do it to you. That smile alone could get you to do anything Daichi would ask. You point at Kuroo as you take your place at the center pole again.

“I’m holding you to that, Kuroo.” You brace your hands one over the other on the pole, and shake your ass for all it’s worth.

Body crazy, curvy, wavy, big titties, little waist.

Daichi’s going to have a stroke, he just knows it. He can feel the veins in his forehead and neck bulging. The blood has flowed elsewhere too. His cock is so hard it feels painful. There are several different ways he could get relief, most of which he should not be considering seeking in a public area. But it’s unbearable and there’s no way he’s going to let himself come in front of all these other people. He waits for the end of your current number and then he’s standing so fast his chair screeches out behind him; a couple of people look his way but for the most part, you’ve got everyone’s attention. Kuroo glances sideways at his friend; he doesn’t say anything, just smirks as Daichi tosses another hundred on the bar top, telling Kuroo to give it to you before rushing to the bathroom.

He makes his way down the hall and notices there are several doors marked RESTROOM in bold capital letters. Thank god there are single-person stalls. He stumbles into one, shutting the door and locking it with shaking hands. The music is still audible, even here; it seems to have dropped to a low steady hum. Intermission. Perfect. Daichi turns to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, one last attempt to snap himself out of this fucking trance. Because that’s what this has to be. He’s getting all hot and bothered over someone who he doesn’t even know. And god, he wants to think that you like him but he knows he’s tipping good and he’s not one of those creeps that can’t recognize it’s your fucking job.

The image in the mirror is one that almost shocks him; his eyes are glazed, and his hair’s a mess. Just once, he just needs to come once and then he can stay here until the end of the night like he said he would. He’ll tip you like a good customer would. Then he’ll leave and he’ll never come back. Because this? This is Daichi out of control and he’s not sure that’s a good thing. Maybe he should go back to making love to nice girls in his king-sized bed. Yes, that’s what he’ll do. He’ll leave here and he won’t come back and he’ll never think of you again.

Daichi unbuckles his belt, the metal of the buckle clanking as he yanks his zipper down. He lets out a pained breath, his cock straining against his underwear. He slips his hand into the elastic band, taking it into his hand and bringing it out into the air. He backs up to the wall, the cool air offering little comfort for the engorged head, and closes his fist around himself. A breath comes fast and heavy out of his mouth as he starts jacking himself off slowly, trying to make the moment last.

You watch as Daichi stands abruptly, so quickly and sharply that he almost topples his chair over. You watch as he tosses another bill on the bar top, leaning in to say something to Kuroo. You watch as he throws one last glance your way before beelining to the bathrooms. Idiot. Absolute idiot is what you are because you’re making your way off the runway, ignoring the audience as a low boo goes through the crowd. Your boss catches your eye from the end of the bar and waves you over.

“What the hell is going on?” It’s not said unkindly but more with an air of annoyance. This is your first Friday night on your own and you might be blowing it. But you don’t care. You put on a fake wince and point at your head, trying to look as contrite and imploring as possible.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s my first Friday and I’m so grateful. But I’ve really gotta pee and I’ve got this horrible headache starting. Can I take ten? Just ten minutes, enough time for an ibuprofen to set in while I go to the bathroom, and then I’ll be back out. Please.” You put those big eyes back to use, blinking slow and tilting your head slightly like you’re trying to relieve the pain of your fake headache. Your boss squints his eyes but doesn’t protest as he pulls a bottle of Advil from behind the bar. He hands you a couple with a glass of water.

“Ten minutes. Go to the bathroom. Take a breather. Then get your ass back out there. I’ve seen the business you’re encouraging after two sets. You’ll be back up there as one of my main performers if you keep up the good work.” You smile as you throw the pills back with the water and hurry in the direction of the restroom, pulling on one of the extra robes from the bar. Now to find Daichi.

A couple is making out in the hallway; you brush past them and knock quietly on the first door. A voice answers quickly that the stall is occupied but it’s not Daichi’s voice. You knock on two more doors before getting to the last one. You suppose he could have gone into the multi-stall restroom but you’d seen the look on his face when he’d stood and you’d bet all the cash he’d given you so far that he wasn’t coming back here to take a piss. You rap your knuckles on the last single-person stall. You’re rewarded with his voice coming from the other side.

“There’s someone-ha-there’s someone in here!” He can barely get the words out; you know what’s going on in that stall and you want to help. You rub your thighs together, realizing you’re already getting wet.

“Daichi, it’s me.” This is stupid. Maybe he doesn’t even like you that much. Maybe you’re just some stripper at a strip club. There’s a heavy silence now, almost solid enough that you could cut it with a knife. Another pause and you’re getting ready to leave, cursing your confidence for all that it’s getting you, but then you hear the click of the door unlocking. He opens it but only just so. Still, it’s an invitation and one you are eager to accept. You open the door just wide enough to slip through to shield yourself from any potential wandering eyes in the hall. The scene inside the stall nearly wrecks you.

Daichi has backed up against the wall, as far away from you as humanly possible. It’s so obvious that he’s been jacking himself off. His hair is messy, his eyes wild like he was already on the brink. He’s desperately trying to cover his cock with his hands and even though they’re large, they can’t cover it completely. You meet his gaze, which he tries to avoid, his eyes fluttering left then right with shame, before finally settling on you. Something trips across your skin.

“Babe, let me help you with that,” you whisper as you direct your line of sight to his cock. It twitches as you move closer, slowly, as if you’re approaching a cornered animal. Daichi groans a little when you reach him, one hand steadying on his shoulder and the other reaching up to touch his face.

“This is—this is not what it looks like, I swear. I promise I’m not some creep, I just—” You put a single finger softly to his lips, making sure he’s got his eyes on you. They widen just a bit. In the brighter light of the bathroom, you can see how rich the color of his irises are, golden brown like sunlight streaming through an autumn wood, or espresso, or something corny like that. Fuck the rules.

“Daichi, can I kiss you?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. His mouth drops open but his eyes rove from yours down to your lips, then your covered chest, and back up. Finally, he nods so you guide his face down to yours and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and pliable. He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, so unlike the image he’d put out walking in this place with his fine, tailored suit and stack of cash. Your hand slips from his shoulder and moves down the ridge of his pectoral, then lower still to the hard planes of his stomach. You trail your fingers over the now wrinkled fabric, close to his undone belt and open pants. His cock jumps against your abdomen past his hands and he gasps. “Is this okay?” You ask the question, certain that Daichi just needs the chance to give in. He nods again so you smooth your hand lower until it wraps around his cock.

Daichi’s head thunks against the wall of the bathroom as another sharp breath explodes from his open mouth. “Oh, fuck,” he growls quietly. You move your hand experimentally, softly, swiping your thumb across the head, gathering the bit of precome at the tip and smearing it about. You can’t decide what you want to look at more: the red bleeding over Daichi’s skin from the neck up, his heaving chest, or how his cock looks in your hands. He’s so… responsive. Each turn of your wrist has him shuddering beneath you. More. You need more. You want to see him beg. And part of you also realizes that he needs this too. You drop to your knees and his eyes snap back open as he watches you. “What’re you doing?”

“Only what you want me to do, Daichi. Unless you don’t want me to?” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s shaking his head. He wraps his hand around yours, enveloping it, and moves it once, twice, over himself. A thought occurs to you, one you’re denying even as you ask him “Daichi, have you ever come down anyone’s throat?” The answer is obvious but you still feel incredulous as he tells you no. The veins in his hands are bulging and he’s still, like the calm before the storm. You lean in, maintaining eye contact, as you blow a breath over his cock. “Do you want to?”

It’s like you flipped a switch. Daichi, slowly now so you have time to pull away if you want to, curls his fingers in your hair, stroking them along your scalp. “Yes, please.” He whispers it, certain this is a dream. This has to be a fucking dream. He’s had a blow job before but never has he ever asked to come in someone’s mouth. He’s a clean guy but he’s not clueless; he just assumed most people thought it was gross and never had a problem with the fact that no one wanted to do that. At least not anyone he had been with. But, oh, he’d thought about it, lots of times. Most of those times in one night.

His pupils are blown wide as you lick your lips and take just the tip, swirling your tongue over the head. His skin is smooth, molten hot. The way your eyes never leave his is something else entirely and when you hollow out your cheeks and relax your throat to take all of him, he thinks he might die. He’s trying to maintain some semblance of control but it is already dwindling to nothing. There’s a coil building in his abdomen. Not yet he thinks viciously. Not yet. You take a few more pulls before releasing him with a pop. Frantic, he feels frantic. Maybe you decided you didn’t want to do this and he’d have to be okay with that, he couldn’t blame you but god damn—

“Daichi, eyes on me.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he locks in on you again. “Let go, babe. Show me how you want it. Pull my hair. Set the pace. And when you’re gonna come, you come down my throat. Nowhere else, you got it? I’ve got five more minutes. Think we can get you there, pretty boy?” He nearly blacks out when you say those words he needed to hear again. Oh, yes, yes he’s sure you can. His eyes search yours once more before fisting his hand in your hair, tightening experimentally. You smile around his cock, deep-throating him once more, but waiting expectantly. He’s not going to come back from this. You’ve ruined anyone else for him. And he’s accepted his fate.

The moment he lets go, the moment he breaks down whatever wall is holding him in place, you can sense it. You place your hands on his thighs as he pulls you nearly all the way off before shoving you back down. Your eyes water just a bit but you feel the slick gather between your thighs. Yes, the girl inside of you that wants to see him to the end hisses. He sets the pace, a strong and quick one, but somehow still gentle. If you said you needed to stop now, you somehow know he’d do so immediately. He twists a little more, angling your head just how he wants it. You set your teeth down ever so lightly just to see….

Daichi whimpers and gasps, the sound nearly a sob on his lips. You swirl your tongue again and suck. “Ha—shit. Just. Just like that,” he grits out as he grips tighter. It hurts a little, your hair and your knees, but the pain swirls with the pleasure in a delicious slide of skin against skin. Your nails dig into his thighs again before he takes one of your hands and closes it around the base of his cock. You grip, working your wrist along with your mouth. He bucks against you, a jerky movement. “I’m close, fuckfuckfuck I’m close. I’m gonna come.” His voice lies somewhere between a bark and a whine. He can’t decide if he wants you closer, or farther, to stop or keep going. His brain is short-circuiting. He tries to pull back just a little bit, but you won’t let him in the best way possible.

You quirk your wrist and tilt your head in just a certain way… Daichi cries out, long and broken, as he curls in over you, his orgasm washing over him in waves so intense his vision goes black. His entire body shudders with his release, his form towering over you as he spurts ropes of come all the way down your throat. You milk him for all he’s worth. Not a single drop is getting away from you, no way in hell. Next time, you want him to come in your pussy. Next time? God, you want there to be a next time. He’s still leaning over you when his breathing slows and steadies; his hands are bracing themselves on your back rubbing soothing circles there with his thumbs. He helps you to your legs and steadies you for a moment.

The silence stretches on as you look at each other, both a little shocked at what just conspired. Daichi slowly puts himself back into his pants and you help him buckle his belt. You’re both on the verge of saying something either extremely brave or extremely stupid with each moment that passes. You’re about to make the first move again when he reaches up and takes your jaw in his hand, running a thumb along the corner of your mouth to gently push the last of his spend into your mouth. You lean into the touch and welcome his finger, sucking it clean just like his dick. He thinks he might be in love with you.

A breathless giggle comes out of you as you back away just a fraction, trying to give yourself space from the startling sensation fluttering in your stomach like butterflies. Your boss is gonna kick your ass if you don’t get back out on the floor. “I would invite you to my place to continue this after I’m off but it’s a little crowded and the walls are thin,” you say, hoping against hope that he wants more just as much as you do. There’s no room for doubt when he leans in and kisses you, deep and slow, tasting himself in your mouth.

“That’s no problem, princess. If you’re still feeling this when you’re off, I’ve got a penthouse all to myself.” Oh, there it is—the swagger you expected him to have. Your eyes glitter as you smooth out your hair, knowing it still looks good enough to perform. If anything, the smell of sex and the appearance of your swollen lips will get you better money, as long as your boss doesn’t catch on. You don’t think he will. “I’ll find you at the end of the night.” You nod, suddenly the bashful one.

Somehow, everything that just transpired did so all in your ten-minute break. In fact, you have one minute to spare as you strut back to the runway, giving your boss a wink and blowing a kiss to the stupefied audience.

“Harder, Daichi, harder.” You can barely get the words out as he thrusts inside of your aching cunt. Your face is pushed into the pillows on Daichi’s king-sized bed, your ass in the air. The sound of skin slapping on skin in the quiet of his room is pornographic but you can’t waste any thoughts on being even remotely embarrassed. Tears stream down your face as he continually hits that spot inside of you that you’ve only been able to hit with a dildo and even then it never came close to this. Daichi’s a machine, the way he keeps going. After you sucked him off and he came so quickly earlier in the night, he was determined to make this one last longer. One of his hands is gripping tightly into the plush of where your hip meets your ass cheek, the other is splayed over your back, even now caressing the skin, alighting it with goosebumps. “Oh, fuuuuuck,” you whine as that same hand snakes around to your neck to pull you up.

His fingers and palm ghost over the skin as he thrusts up into you and it’s all you can do to hold to his thighs for dear life, your nails digging in so hard you’ll know they’ll leave a mark. “Are you close, princess?” He whispers it labored into your ear, his breath hot, his mouth even hotter as he leans in to nip at your pulse point from behind. You nod frantically, almost unable to answer. “Can I come inside, baby? Will you let me? Will you let me be a good boy for you?” His hand moves from your throat to your clit, stroking one slow circle over the oversensitive nub. Thank god for birth control.

“Yes, Daichi, yes, come in my pussy. Oh, god, yes be a good boy for me.” You squeal as he thrusts hard, once, twice, swiping his fingers over your clit again in a more concentrated pattern and you feel your first orgasm of the night sweep over you as Daichi finds his own release with a mangled, animalistic groan. You think he’s done, especially when he pulls out leaving you feeling way too empty. But you’re wrong, so, so wrong. He proceeds to flip you over and push back in, a ring of white forming around where he’s begun thrusting inside of you again.

“I thought about this all fucking night.” He surges up over you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them above you. “I thought about that pretty little cunt around my cock. I thought about how pretty you’d look laying in my bed.” One thrust, slow and teasing. You roll your hips up to meet him, even though your thighs are weak and shaking. “I’ve never–I’ve never fucked anyone like this before, it’s,” he leans in to suck on your pulse again, runs his tongue over the salty skin there, “magical.” You whimper beneath him when you feel the familiar coil tightening once more in your belly.

“Do you think I can make you come again, Daichi? Can you come for me one more time?” He groans, sealing his lips over yours as he releases your hands so that can pull him closer into you. You scrape your nails from the nape of his neck into his hair, and grip, breathless, as his rhythm becomes choppy again. God, you don’t know how he’s still going. The two of you are so frenzied, the blood in your veins hotter than a blue flame. “Look at me when you come, baby, look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hands to his cheeks. His eyes are glazed, his face strained but still beautiful. “I’m going to touch myself now, okay?” His mouth pops open again as he nods, before watching as you wrap one arm around his shoulder and bring your other hand to your clit. You swipe around his cock, collecting some of the mess you’ve both made there. You know how to pleasure yourself and with Daichi’s expert stroke, it doesn’t take long before it snaps over you, the walls of your pussy squeezing around him forcing spend from him one more time. It’s not as explosive as the first time but still enough that you can feel the wet leaking out onto his sheets. “So good for me, Daichi, look how good you are for me,” you chant as you wring the last of the pleasure from each other.

When it’s over, he stills, pulling out of you and collapsing onto the bed beside you. There’s a sheen of sweat covering you both. The cool early morning air coming in Daichi’s open window creates the perfect juxtaposition of sensations. He reaches over to trace patterns into your palm. “Can I hold you?” The question is so sweet, it makes you huff out a laugh. The man just blew your back out and he asks if he can hold you. But you are more than willing to oblige him so you roll into his open arm and lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. You wait a moment before looking up at him, relishing the feeling of his fingers now tracing patterns into your arm and shoulder.

“Didn’t you mention something about handcuffs earlier?” He looks down at you jerkily, a sheepish grin on his face. You smile mischievously. You’re going to ruin him. He’s going to let you. And he’s going to love it.

“Let me make you breakfast first, yeah?” You nod and breathe in the smell of him, all sex and musk and expensive cologne. Neither one of you knows where this is going to go but right now, it doesn’t matter. You yawn and snuggle closer.

“Just so you know,” you intone sleepily, “I like French toast.” He laughs softly, his own body relaxing into a lazy slumber.

“Hm, French toast? I pinned you as a pancake kinda girl. Good thing I also like French toast and always keep the supplies in to make it.” His breathing is slow and shallow, matching the rhythm of yours. The sun peeks over the cityscape around you as the two of you go under, cradled in each other’s arms.

This work and its digital elements (photo credit to photographer) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2024. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

#daichi sawamura x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x you #sawamura daichi x you #daichi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #fic: somebody come get her #kait writes #daichi ♥︎

185 notes · View notes

aidemint · 10 months

Text

To Break A Habit | Routine Doesn’t Get You Kisses Like These

Summary: You kinda-actually find out he wasn’t joking about the spider stuff. Okay. But you’re totally cool about it. Totally.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Hobie Brown/GN!Reader

Notes: 5 minutes of screentime and i’ve already wrote more about this guy in a week than i usually write about anything in three months jesus christ

Masterpost | AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3

“40081’s got this hoodoo shit goin’ on.” Hobie sighs as he makes his way down the main hall of Spider-HQ, recounting his mission discoveries from days prior. “Some sort of bad luck spell that’s making the world lose its plot.”

Gwen paces beside him, listening intently. “Sinister Six behind it?” she asks with a frown. “Or do you think it’s something else?”

“Not certain,” Hobie responds with a shrug. “But I’m close to catching the anomaly. Things should reset once it’s out of the fabric.”

“Hope it gets resolved soon.” Gwen sucks in a breath from between her teeth. “Miguel’s not looking too happy these days.”

Oddly enough, the mission so far had been almost deceptively easy—three days into the operation Hobie had already located and shut down a multitude of energy pockets emanating from certain parts of the city. A variant of Mysterio or Osborn was bound to show up soon, as the sites were likely siphoning vitality from the dimension. Now he just needed to gather intel about the effects of the magic while playing the waiting game. Luckily for him, he has a direct source.

“Relax Gwendy, it’ll be fine. I even got in touch with one of the locals for—” Hobie starts assuredly, turning to address his drummer, but pauses and swivels around when she’s noticeably no longer keeping up with his stride.

“You what?” Gwen stands frozen in the middle of the walkway, eyes blown as large as dinner plates with her mouth slightly ajar. She readjusts herself with a shake of her head, though her hands and shoulders remain raised and stiff. “Hobie, please tell me you’re not getting to know a civilian. ”

“Then I won’t tell you that I’m ‘getting to know’ a civilian.” A roll of his shoulder and he’s back walking, half-lidded eyes peering at Gwen when she inevitably joins again, bobbing and weaving through a downcurrent flow of Peter Parkers. “And I won’t tell you that it’s strictly for information about the mission.” A coy smile tugs the edges of Hobie’s lips upward. “Probably.”

Gwen looks just about ready to explode at the last quip. “You just told me— Oh my God, you know that, out of everything, is against protocol. Very against protocol,” she hisses, her voice lowering as her lip curls and she leans further into the privacy of only each others’ company. “What will you do when Miguel finds out?”

“You gotta live freely past the propaganda, Gwendy,” Hobie replies nonchalantly, patting a palm on her shoulder as a point of reassurance. “Just think about it.”

The best Gwen can offer him is a wary glance and a moment of hesitation, but he takes it with a grin anyhow. He’s certain she’ll eventually come around—the extent of their friendship isn’t something so miniscule that a few words of indoctrination would ever be enough to turn her.

It’s a nice notion to have, but he unfortunately doesn’t get much time to dwell on it—suddenly, his watch buzzes with an alert.

Hobie checks the device. “Someone’s ringing me, gotta bounce.” A few taps of an orange screen and a twist of a dial, then a portal opens up just shy of his left arm. “Been fun, Gwendy. Don’t blame me if I come back late.”

No matter how hard she rolls her eyes, Gwen can’t help but give into the smile that creeps onto her lips. “Stay safe, loser,” she responds, bumping her fist against his.

“Safe is practically my middle name.” With that, Hobie ducks into the gateway, and disappears.

How the fuck do you accuse someone of having spider powers without sounding like you’ve gone insane? Since morning you’ve been stuck in a cycle of decision-making for a seemingly hopeless situation. You thought the hard part was over after seeing the guy in the costume swing away on white silly string, but the mostly sleepless night and brainstorming the resolution to be had was another beast altogether. What doesn’t help much either is the fact your favorite pair of jeans are now stained to shit because an idiot thought it would be a good idea to trickshot a half-full Starbucks drink into a trashcan you were standing right next to.

Oh, New York, how it surprises you each day. You swear you’ve never had bad luck like this in your life—and now you’re twenty minutes late, punching in your timecard and hurrying to tie on an apron.

Even through your shift the anxiety doesn’t go away, despite how you try to ignore it. Nervous energy bleeds into your work, shaking hands spilling and dropping drinks; your preoccupied mind is nowhere near as focused as you need to be for the rush—you remake a drink three times in a row before being on the receiving end of a tired lecture from an angry customer.

“Something on your mind?” one of your coworkers ends up asking after most of the crowd has dissipated. “Or just tired?”

You’re on the verge of bursting into tears actually, but you manage to stifle it with a deep breath in. “A lot of both,” you mumble in response. You can’t tell her about Hobie, and it’d be too winding to describe the entirety of everything. She’s pretty good at giving looks of pity and she’s already shot you one following the complaining customer. Honestly another one is the last thing you want to deal with right now. “Maybe I should’ve just skipped work today.”

“Don’t worry, we all have bad days,” she offers with a consoling pat on the arm. “How about you just calm down for a bit and take your break? I’ll make you your favorite drink and get a bowl started for you.”

The gesture does ease your nerves, even if only by a little. You sigh, shoulders slumping, and give your coworker a grateful smile. Parting ways then, she returns to her station to honor her word and you make your way to the back to punch in the start of your break.

Exhaustion starts to seep in when you catch yourself staring blankly at the time card machine, watching the hands of the clock tick away second by second. There hasn’t been significant progress in terms of settling the whole “Hobie Brown is a superhero” dilemma, you realize, just a lot of pain and aching on your part. Maybe it’s time to put the matter to rest just for a brief half an hour—you’ll pick it up later. There isn’t even a guarantee Hobie will show up to the shop anyhow.

Yeah, you have time.

The chunk sound of the punch machine brings you back to your senses and you put away your slip before making your way back to the front of the house.

“Drink’s ready and bowl’s on the way. You can enjoy that while you wait,” your coworker chirps, sliding a cup to you when you emerge from the back. You’re just about to voice your thanks before she cuts in again, gesturing to a spot just beyond the counter. “Oh, and someone asked for you. He’s right over there.”

Your eye is already twitching before you even look. But you suppose you hate yourself and the world at this point, because you slowly turn to where her hand points regardless and find the one man you just made a pact with yourself to not think about.

Hobie greets you by name and gives you a friendly wave. Out of courtesy, you force yourself to return in, lips pressed together in a tight smile with the short extension of your hand.

“Heard it was your break,” he says, approaching the glass panel between the two of you. “Mind if I intrude?”

Yes! you scream internally. Yes I do mind very much!

“No, it’s alright,” you end up saying to him, staving off a growing impulse to whack yourself upside the head.

“Sick,” is all Hobie replies with before he retreats to a nearby table. “I’ll be waiting here—don’t rush yourself.”

It’s right about now that you’re wishing he wasn’t so nice and you didn’t like him so much so that this process of confrontation would go about smoother. Your gaze lingers on him and you bite in the inside of your cheek as you think about the validity of what you witnessed yesterday.

The option to not tell him and maintain your chances of still potentially becoming friends like normal exists. Dodging the awry reputation that comes with the manic conspiracy theorist persona is always good. You’ll get over it one day, right? Leave the suspicions behind and assume that the image was just a hallucination brought about by stress; convince yourself that Hobie Brown is just your average British punk-rocker.

But you can’t fight the feeling in your gut, how it burns, and suddenly you’re leaning over the counter, over the glass.

This is a bad idea. “Hobie,” you call in his direction.

He looks up. “Yeah?”

Shit, this is a bad idea. “I have something to tell you.”

“Wah’gawn?”

“It’s… I think it’s a matter best told in just our own company.” You look around apprehensively, a slight crease in your brow. “Mind going somewhere more private?”

Trying your best to ignore the suggestive look your coworker shoots at you from your peripheral, you beckon Hobie to come into the back. Walking through the kitchen, you usher him into the storage pantry and shut the door behind you when you join him.

“I’m guessing we’re not just here to kotch?” Hobie teases with the sideways tilt of his head.

“Unfortunately.” Your gaze lowers to the ground at the admission, fingers finding one another and squeezing. “Been thinking about something for a while.”

Hobie lets the change in the air stew until it thickens before responding. “Ready when you are.” His voice is softer, malleable, lost of all its previous playfulness and replaced with a certain kind of sincerity.

The slightest incline of your chin brings your stare back to him. You wish it served the simple purpose of just admiring the slopes and angles of his face, but your lips part and your curled hand trembles, and it all reminds you of the gnawing insecurity.

“I need you to tell me the truth.” You say it slowly, sincerely, keeping your voice as steady as you can despite the way your heart rate thunders. “Please.”

In your supplication, you aren’t certain how to appraise the extent of your desperation, but Hobie’s gaze does not leave yours. He nods wordlessly, a glint of something in his eye and it looks a lot like deference.

You take it as permission to continue. “When you brought up Parker”—you swallow thickly—“you were talking about something real, weren’t you?”

A beat of silence. There isn’t any external reaction from Hobie, standing as still as he had the moment he stopped in front of you, face lax and hands tucked away in his pockets.

“Ain’t got a Scooby-Doo what you’re talking about,” he says plainly, unfaltering in every word. Even then he doesn’t move, fortress-like in his disposition.

Perhaps he truly doesn’t know what you mean, you think. The chance is present, albeit slim, though present nonetheless—and how tightly you clutch this sliver of hope. But for a moment, in your hesitancy and under Hobie’s untelling stare, doubt creeps in—your palms grow clammy against the material of your pants, sweat assisting the glide of your fingers against one another. Your eyes search those of the man in front of you, wishing his look could change so you could find the courage to ground yourself.

What if you’re wrong? What if it’s all a fallacy, some trick of the light? New York is no stranger to oddities but even this seems too extreme. Coincidental talk of Spider-People leading to an impossible accusation. Fucking Spider-People don’t—shouldn’t—exist. The idea grows more absurd the longer you question it. Peter Parker got the short end of the stick, if there was even a long end in the first place, so what the hell are you doing?

But what if you’re right?

A breath rattles through you. “Hobie.” With a new waver in your voice and a tremble to your hands, you stand unsure of how your conviction bleeds through what you say but you try anyhow. “I know you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I saw a masked man walking on the side of a building yesterday.” The admission comes quickly, riddled with cracks, but you’re entirely too focused on the followup to care. “After the conversation we had about Spider-People, after the whole thing about superheroes, tell me that it wasn’t you up there. Because I saw your— your fucking pins and I’ve never— God, I don’t even know! I’ve never seen something like this.”

Your fists clench, fingers digging crescent-shaped craters into the flesh of your palms. The marks bite, angry red and stinging—perhaps aching even more the absence of Hobie’s response, the seconds you give him to reply.

“Who are you?” Dry—your throat is so dry. Your voice can’t be anything above a whisper with how hoarse the question comes, flaking away with every shallow breath you take.

Silence blankets the both of you then, soundless space a limbo between comfort and unease. Unsure of what to do with it, what to make of the situation you stand in now, you let it hang listlessly, drawing upon an empty room and an even emptier conversation.

It takes a handful of moments for Hobie to even look like he’s processed all that you’ve said. Under your scrutiny, the smallest movement of his eye is the only discernible change to the testament. Whatever goes on inside his head is a complete mystery to you for the few minutes that elapse before he speaks.

Finally, he shifts in his stance. “You want me to just come out with it, yeah?” he asks, not sounding terribly happy, but not as nonplussed as you expected. He sighs when you nod slowly. “Alright. I’ll start from the top, then.”

He tells you his name is still in fact Hobie Brown, and he was bitten by a radioactive spider three years ago. Formerly a runway model, though not a role model, he’s been protecting the streets of his hometown against the PM. When he’s not playing shows, antagonizing fascists, or staging unpermitted political “action-slash-performance art pieces,” he’s out partying with his friends.

“And don’t call me a hero,” he ends with a frown. “Hate the label. Calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologizing, narcissistic autocrat.”

When he stops, you have both hands to your temples, pressing down hard. You can deal with his anti-authority spiel just fine—some part of you even agrees with the sentiment—but there is so much to unpack prior to the statement.

“So you— you have actual spider powers? Oh my God?” you sputter, eyes blown wide in an expression of surprise you’re sure looks exaggeratedly dreadful. “What even— that’s— what even are spider powers?”

“Dunno really.” Hobie gives a shrug. “Enhanced hearing, speed, vision, and sticking to walls are the main perks. Also links up to my—”

“Can you shoot webs out of your butt?” you blurt in a sudden horrible realization.

There’s a few seconds of tense silence before Hobie bursts into laughter, arms crossed around his torso to hold himself, shoulders bunched to his ears. The ring of his joy through the air lifts a weight from it and suddenly the atmosphere doesn’t feel as crushing as before.

Witnessing his state, it doesn’t take long for unease to fade away and for you to start softly chuckling with him.

“You’re so jokes,” Hobie cackles, a hand over his eyes as he leans back. A long, shuddering breath tears through him in his attempt to calm down. “But to answer your question, no I can’t shoot webs out of my arse.”

“Thank God,” you breathe, clutching your heart. “Wouldn’t have looked at you the same if you said you could.”

“I don’t think I can look at you the same after you just asked that.”

“Hey, in my defense it was just to get to know you better.”

“I’m sure that’s all it was.” Hobie gives you a pointed look, but is quick to smile after. “Speaking of which, I came in to ask you something as well.”

“Oh?” You blink. The sudden shift in conversation is unprecedented, taking you slightly by surprise, but suspicion is quick to replace your wonderment when you notice a change in Hobie’s features. A squint narrows your eyes. “What are you plotting?”

“Nothing, it’s just I have an excuse now that you know me better.” He pauses briefly, staring at you for a moment. “I wanted to ask if I could know you a little better.”

Your lips purse in confusion at the phrase, forehead pinching. “But you already know me?” you ask, brow raised. “Don’t tell me you forgot everything already.”

“I didn’t,” Hobie reassures gently. “I was just thinking instead of talking over a counter we could do it over dinner? Maybe a movie, if you have the time?”

A beat passes and suddenly realization sets in, drawing all the air out of you. The smallest groan escapes you as you bury your face in your palms, the skin of your neck and cheeks burning hot. Every inch of you seems more sensitive in your mortification—were you always this close to Hobie, and was his cologne always that strong?

“I’m an idiot,” you whisper from between the gap in your hands. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

Hobie supplies a soft chuckle to ease your embarrassment. “You’re not. It came out pretty corny anyways.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting asked out by a guy with spider powers.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

You groan again, a tight breath pressed against your fingers. “You are so lucky you’re cute, Hobie Brown.”

It is as endearing as it is exasperating that you can practically hear how big his smile is. “You free tomorrow?”

“Anytime past five,” you reply softly, slowly inching your hands away from your face to peer at him. “Where should I meet you?”

Hobie’s grin tilts sideways at the query, a new sparkle of mischief brightening his eye. “I’ll come pick you up.”

Dates aren’t exactly a new concept to you—you’ve been on a handful, and they all go about the same. The first time, someone shows up with flowers or a small gift to start the evening right, then you’re whisked away for three hours to some place to hang around and have fun. It’s conventional, it’s safe—sometimes you enjoy the company more than the actual activity, leading to a second or third outing, but there’s nothing too special about the dance you do with routine.

Along this line of reasoning, Hobie crash-landing on your balcony with one of the most ridiculous offers of transportation isn’t exactly the way you imagined your date would start.

“You are not web-swinging me to Manhattan,” you tell him, still inside your apartment, arms crossed and shaking your head vigorously. “I don’t care what you have set up, I’m not gonna risk going splat on the damn concrete.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Hobie pushes playfully. “Promise I won’t drop you.”

You frown, brows furrowing and lips pursing as you glare at him. He returns the look as calm as ever, a slight smile edging the corners of his mouth and stance open in invitation. The way he holds himself has uncertainty creeping to you, forcing out your fervent disagreement in favor of consideration in a rather slick way of persuasion.

Perhaps you should’ve known you wouldn’t win, with the sheer difference in your demeanors. Your staredown continues for a couple of minutes before you sigh, breaking eye contact with a reluctant drop of your chin and a gentle moan of diffidence.

“Can I at least close my eyes?” you mumble, walking out and shutting the balcony door behind you.

“You can do whatever you want,” Hobie replies, sliding on his mask and gloves. “Just hold on tight.”

Stifling a breath when his arm wraps around the small of your back and under your thighs, you cling to his shoulders as he lifts you up and climbs on the railing.

“You ready?” His chest rumbles under your touch when he speaks, and you can only give a small nod in your position, heart pounding against your ribs and face buried deep in the nape of his neck.

Hobie laughs—a deep, warm sound—and then launches off your balcony.

There are no words to truly describe the feeling that swallows you while in freefall. Wind blasts past your ears in violent howls, gravity pulls your figure down but your insides up, and the only thing you have to ground yourself is the feel of Hobie as you clutch him with every bit of strength you possess. Adrenaline thrums through every vein, lighting your nerves on fire and prickling your skin with gooseflesh; even your energy to scream depletes into fueling the rush that floods your senses.

Upon the first pull up, Hobie’s web catching a surface to swing from, your gut lurches and a serrated gasp shudders through you. Your arms pull you impossibly closer to him, fingers clawing to dig deeper into the back of his vest.

“Easy now,” he chuckles, sounding miles away with how loud your heart beats in your ears. “I promised I wasn’t gonna drop you, didn’t I?”

“D-Doesn’t make it better,” you gasp, shivering now that the breeze whips against your back.

“Try to relax—we’ll be there soon.” Though he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, it proves contrary to the way his grip tightens around you with the next swing.

Despite how comforting the gesture is, you find that you can’t relax much while still flying through New York a hundred feet in the air.

After what seems like days of travel, Hobie finally lands on solid ground, giving you a moment to catch your breath before setting you down gently. His arms are threaded underneath yours as you try to balance on shaky legs, knees bent and feeling all too much like jelly for your own comfort.

“I feel like a newborn deer,” you sigh, voice trembling from the withdrawal of adrenaline. Jitters quiver your fingers, lightly chatter your teeth, and shake the thin chamber of your chest. “My God, how do you even get used to this?”

“Gotta learn to trust yourself,” Hobie hums smoothly. “First time’s always a tad tricky.”

You only nod, gaze now pinned to the ground as he gradually guides you forward, step by step, until you’re stable enough to slowly walk on your own. From there, the slightest incline of your head brings your attention to a small spread of food and flowers laid out nicely on a patterned blanket. A warmth comes to settle in your core at the sight, softening your eyes and easing the tenseness in your limbs—contentment reaches you and the stress gained from the ride here begins to fade, if only by a little.

“Hobie, this is so sweet,” you coo, pleasure lightening the tone of your voice.

His rings just as sweetly through the evening air. “Good to hear—would’ve been gutted if you didn’t like it.”

You laugh at the response, casting an affectionate glance at him that just grows fonder upon meeting his charming reciprocation. The bend of his brow, the part and curve of his lips, the crinkle of his eye—all of it has you transfixed for a generous moment, barely able to notice the way your navel aches with longing in your stupor.

The feeling persists throughout the evening, present in every winding conversation and instance of quiet shared between the two of you. It’s rather freeing to be unconstrained by the formalities usually held by the label of a first date and to sense such endearment for the whole of it. There is no talking to only talk—every sentiment has meaning, every word punctuated by some semblance of tenderness; there is no awkward atmosphere brought about by nervous tension—you rest comfortably, leaning back on your hands, as does Hobie, elbows on crossed legs, positioned towards you.

Hours pass by easily in the space, kissing the sky with hues of orange and gold and violet as they bid a teary farewell, trails of light following in the wake of their departure. Yawning clouds push to the east, unlined shapes dissipating with the fleeting luster. Soon, the New York city skyline is only a bleak, black horizon that cradles a half-yolked sun just shy of its surface.

Golden rays grace your skin, full and temperate and real. You’re just about to gush to Hobie about how this is your favorite time of the day when you’re stopped by the shallow movement of his arm.

He shifts to pick the carnation laid closest to your hand, snaps off the longer part of its stem, then tucks it delicately behind your ear. Wordlessly, he adjusts the petals, and grins when they seem to his liking.

You’re practically bursting at the seams when he retracts his hand, fingers ghosting the curve of your cheek on their path back. Heat rushes to your neck, white-hot on a quick shot up to heat every inch of your face. The sensation catches your breath, widens your eye, tucks the tip of your bottom lip between your teeth, and all you can do is sit and watch Hobie as he admires you.

There’s a look in his eye that you hope is reflected in yours, how beautiful he is. The warm vermillion hue of the sun hits his complexion and it’s like there’s nothing else in the world to behold but him.

Suddenly you find yourself reaching for the flowers on the blanket, clasping multiple in one hand and halving the stems with the other.

Leaning forward, palms stained with sap, you place the carnations in each of Hobie’s wicks, uncaring of the smell of chlorophyll or the tremble of your fingers. You only return to your seat and wipe your hands when you finish, the expanse of his head dotted in small blooms, all that’s left of the original bouquet messily cut stems and loose leaves.

A breathy laugh escapes you at the sight, light and happy and bright. “You are so pretty, Hobie,” you whisper, your heart swelling with adoration. “And I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

He smiles. “I’m not going to stop you,” he says, then wraps his arms around you when you crush your lips to his.

You feel you must be drunk on something, but are entirely too far gone to care the slightest bit. Hobie is every bit as soft and warm as you imagined, his hold homely, his scent familiar. Breathing him in, bergamot, plum, and sandalwood filling your lungs, a dreamy sigh stutters out of your nose before you start to move.

The kiss takes on a steady rhythm then, perhaps the easiest thing you’ve had to follow. Each press of your lips against his finds just the right amount of resistance, the feel of his piercing snug as it nudges you in every shift. Your hands find purchase in cupping his face, fingertips smoothing the silver studs that line his ears and thumbs stroking his cheeks.

Hobie’s touch rests just shy of your waist, the bend of his elbows against your ribs, palms flat against your scapula. His chest rises and falls with every breath, a slight hitch in the motion when you crawl to his lap, sitting in the space between his legs.

The two of you share your own pocket of heaven for a minute longer, then with one last kiss, you part. As your eyes flutter open, Hobie slides a hand off your back to thumb your lip, swiping a finger across your bottom one.

You make a questioning noise but remain unmoving as he works, sliding his digit across sensitive skin.

“My lipstick got on you,” he explains when he finishes, showing you black makeup smeared on his thumb. “I liked the look of it, but didn’t know if you did.”

A gentle laugh spouts from you at his kindness. “I’m all for you giving me a makeover next time,” you say with a grin.

Hobie gives a small chuckle back, delight sparkling in his eye. “Good.”

The afterbuzz of the date still tingles the back of Hobie’s neck even hours later. It’s ten o’clock, the moon at highrise and not a single star in sight in the muddy violet pool that overhangs New York. He’s in the middle of a stakeout, monitoring an energy station reopened as bait for whatever, whoever, might come out in response. The task of fully focusing proves rather hard in the wake of remembering the warmth of you as you held him, the brush of your lips against his, and your small gasps of breath, but he tries anyhow.

Hobie’s just finished shaking off the image of your face in the light of dusk when his watch buzzes. He looks down with a frown, noting the peculiarity of receiving a call this late.

“Gwendy,” he greets, an orange hologram of Stacy appearing with the twist of a dial. “What are you ringing me for?”

“Hey Hobie,” she returns flatly, not providing much else before quickly casting her gaze askance.

From her projection, Hobie can gather that something seems off—Gwen’s stance is completely closed, arms crossed and feet together. What looks like nervousness twists her features, pinches her forehead, pulls her lips tight together. She’s never been good at hiding her emotions, but even this seems exaggerated.

Sobriety seeps into Hobie then, the high of hours ago eroding. “Something wrong?” he asks, voice dropping low.

Gwen pauses, hesitating. “Miguel wants you back at HQ,” is what comes from her after a few seconds. “Now.”

“What about the mission?”

“He just says to leave. There’s been some new intel. That’s all I know.” Gwen swallows thickly, her eyes flickering back to Hobie. “See you soon.”

“Alright, see ya.” The hologram blinks twice, then disappears. Hobie taps on his watch to open a portal back to Earth-928, dubiety sinking its teeth into his thoughts. Miguel was ever the autocrat, so he was never quite fond of the guy, but the way Gwen had come to him—with a fresh feeling that extended beyond terror etched in her expression—that doesn’t sit well. He doesn’t need a spider-sense to recognize that something is amiss.

Somehow, he can’t elude the feeling of dread that creeps to him when he’s swallowed by the vortex.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown/reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown/you #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #hobie brown imagine #fluff #angst #kissing <3 yeah #miguel o'hara #gwen stacy #i wish this kiss were a canon event i really do #yeah uh hold onto your hats for the last part

459 notes · View notes

asmosmainhoe · 1 year

Text

The brothers playing UNO

I'm finally back with hq's!! I've been playing sm UNO with my family lately and it always ended up in a chaotic fight so naturally I had to write this :'D

Lucifer Mammon Leviathan Satan Asmodeus Beelzebub Belphegor

Warnings: heavy language

Gender: neutral

You introduce the brothers to this game hoping for some quality bonding time with a fun twist, but oh how wrong you are

It takes a lot of time to even get all of them on board, because the bright colors of the cards aren't to everyone's liking *cough* Lucifer *cough*

"MC, I don't have the time for a children's game."

"Noooo, it's super serious trust me!'

Oh sweet, clueless you. You have no idea how serious it will get with these demons

After gathering everyone around the table it takes another eternity to get them all to listen to you explaining the rules

"And why exactly can't I put a 2 on a +2, huh?"

"Mammon, if you ask this stupid question one more time-"

"Shut the fuck up already and listen!"

You silently thank the gods that Satan is more irritated by their bickering than your explaining, but you do slowly realize that this might be a bad idea. The image of the angry demon receiving a +2 (or God forbid a +4) is starting to haunt your mind and sends a shiver down your spine

The frown on Lucifer's face confirms that he most likely shares that worry with you which is probably a sign that you should maybe stop the game before you even start playing, but who are you to make responsible decisions, huh? Ride or die bitches!

Once the cards are dealt all hell breaks lose...not. It's going surprisingly fine. The brothers seem to understand the rules just perfectly and you begin to relax

This seems good! This seems fun! This-

"Why would you have me pull 4 cards?! How can you look at this stunning, beautiful, wonderful face and backstab me like this?"

"Calm down, Asmo. It's just a game."

"It's betrayal!"

"I want red."

"Ya son of a- ya know damn well that I don't have that color!"

From this point on it's becoming a giant mess of cursing, yelling and disowning one another

Beel is quick to calm down though since he's being promised snacks everytime the poor man has to pull more cards

Lucifer pretends he doesn't have fun, but you can see the competitiveness in his eyes. Every card he throws, every move he does is deeply calculated

"UNO!"

"When did ya get rid of all your cards?!"

"UNO my ass!"

"We can't let him win!"

After that Levi ends up with about 20 cards and 5 mental breakdowns

Lucifer is the next one to have only one card left and Satan of course prevents it by wishing for a color he knows for sure that the first born doesn't have

"But Satan, you don't have that color either.", you whisper to him

"I'd rather eat a five course meal Solomon made than watch this bastard win."

"Fair enough."

At that point no one is playing normally anymore. The brothers are pulling cards until they get a +2/+4 JUST to prevent people from winning

You've never seen Belphie this awake and concentrated

"This game is so stressful, I can literally feel it ruining my skin."

"Then give up already."

"Only over my dead cold body!"

Beel is the only one genuinely enjoying having a pile of cards in his hands, because that means he gets tons of food from the others

The only person they don't get mad at is you, but it's impossible to win in this chaos so you're stuck there

After three hours of constant fighting and everyone almost winning, Satan loses it by throwing his cards across the table. That causes an outrage and you're quickly gathering all the cards to not have the mad demons accidently rip them to shreds

No one notices you leaving the area and closing the doors behind you, sighing to yourself

So UNO definitely wasn't a good idea, but thankfully there are many other games you could introduce them to

Maybe you'll have more luck with Monopoly?

Masterlist

628 notes · View notes

fairlyang · 4 months

Text

Prank 🕷️

gwen and miles convince you to help distract Miguel so they can set up yet another prank but there's an unexpected plot twist

w/c: 4K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: fluffy, no smut soz, cute, soft spot for you, completely oblivious to his feelings for you, you like him, plot twist

part one

"Hey Y/n c'mere real quick!!" Gwen yells as I walk into the cafeteria and head on over to her and Miles.

"What's up guys?" I ask and plop down next to them noticing some boxes on top of the table they were chilling by.

"We thought of a funny prank to do on Miguel....." Miles starts to say as Gwen smiles.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It was only a week since they pulled off their last prank on him, with a tiny bit of my help.... I open my eyes and look at them. "Of course you guys did," I start to say and laugh then put on a straight face, "no"

"But Y/n-" Gwen chimes in but I wasn't having it.

"NO- I'm one of the people he can barely tolerate and even now a tiny bit less so if I help again he's gonna actually be mad at me- and for all we know he might be mad as we speak!" I say and shake my head.

"He'll be more more mad at us!! You just gotta distract him for us while we set it up..." Gwen says and makes pleading eyes at me.

"I don't know...."

"Pleaseeee" she says pulling her best puppy dog eyes and nudges Miles' side to do the same.

"I am not doing the eyes-" he mutters and she nudges him again harder.

"Please Y/n- I'm doing this against my wi-" He starts to "plead" but then Gwen covers his mouth and grins at me.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, "He got so annoyed at us last time!!"

"Last time was so harmless though-" Gwen starts to say but I interrupt.

"And this one won't be??" I question and laugh.

"Not what I meant- but look this one is something nice for him-" Gwen starts to explain but I shake my head.

"You guys giving Miguel a nice prank? Miguel O'Hara?" I raise an eyebrow at Gwen then look at Miles.

"In what world-" i start to say but Gwen holds a finger up.

"We felt bad that he got upset last time so we thought we'd make it up to him..." she says slowly and I sigh.

I look at them both and roll my eyes. "Fine but you owe me." I say already regretting my decision.

"YES!!! Thank you!!!!! I promise you won't regret this!" Gwen says excitedly.

"So distract him how?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

"Well I was hoping you'd think of something....." she says and bites her lip.

"Now Gwen-"

"You literally have to do the easiest part!! I mean how hard can it be to distract him...." She says and gives Miles a look.

"I guess I have no choice but to wing it..." I reply and chuckle.

She nods and motions for me to go. "Oh you meant like NOW?" I laugh and shake my head. Crazy.

"Yes now go! We need like an hour or so, good luck!" Gwen says and waves me off.

I wave at them and walk out of the cafeteria. Sneaking one more glance at them and they're whispering and laughing while opening one of the boxes. What did I get myself into?

I sigh as I walk the halls of HQ and heading to Miguel's office. Now the thing about Miguel is he's a very sarcastic, sometimes cold, very angry man. I somehow ended up kind of befriending him by just being nice to him. It wasn't a hard thing to do, I've always been kind to those around me.

Thinking I started on the wrong foot on my first day when I bumped into him like a dumbass but he didn't care. I slowly was gaining his trust and he started opening up to me, he started letting me hang in his office, I'd bring him extra food, we'd be conversing a lot which apparently shocked the other spider people.

I didn't question it, just assumed maybe he wanted a friend, someone he can be normal with. I didn't wanna accidentally read the situation wrong so I just make sure to be there for him when I can.

Although after spending that much time with him it had played with my mind a lot and I only recently started looking at him differently. Feeling something more than what you do with friends, but still I kept it friendly and tried to push those thoughts away even though I couldn't throw the butterflies in my stomach away.

And even with last week's prank he wasn't that cold towards me, he was still civil. Somewhat...

But even then it wouldn't be odd of me to go to his office, I usually visit him anyway and he doesn't really care unless he's in a mood, though he's never exactly rude to me.... But for the sake of allll of us I hope he's chill today.

I made it outside his office and I peep through the window and he's looking at his screens. I open the door as quietly as I can only to be met with his screams at the screens. So he definitely didn't hear me.

I quietly close the door and lean against the wall. He's swiping along muttering swears in English and Spanish and I widen my eyes. Then he turns around to look me right in the eye and snarls, "You're breathing loud Y/n, what do you need?"

Before quickly turning back and muttering, "Chingdada madre-" (mother fucker)

I cover my mouth to hide my laughter and shake my head. I'm fucking breathing loud??? They owe me big time.

"Be nice Miguelito, I just came to... check up on you.." I say and walk up to him.

He turns back around to me quickly pressing a button on his watch to remove his mask, and scoffs. "Check up on me? Oh so now I need hawk eyes all over me at all times? People are always coming in and out asking if I'm okay, if I need help, and I am tired of it. Do I look like I need help?!?"

I bite my lip to keep me from laughing and give him a knowing look. He sighs and turns back to his screens. "I'm getting exasperated. Why do you do it? I'm shocked you aren't sick of coming in daily. I know you're one of the very few who is around me a lot and surprisingly always in good moods, but how do you do it?"

He turns back to face me and crosses his arms "Oye nomas quiero ser buena amiga." I say and laugh sitting on a chair in front of him. (I just wanna be a good friend)

"And I don't know maybe y'know because that's what friends do..... plus i don't like seeing that vein on your neck that looks like it's gonna pop when you're mad. It is not a pretty sight.." I say shaking my head and jokingly shiver.

"That's what friends do, huh? Well, lucky me, then." He says sarcastically making me roll my eyes before he continues.

"That vein is what makes me. So maybe if everyone could leave me be sometimes, that'd be juuuuust perfect. And it won't ever explode." He says and I cover my mouth to not laugh.

"You're acting as if you hate my company. I'm one of the only people you can tolerate." I tease and laugh again. "And not just that one, also the one on your forehead, you could see that one from a mile away on special occasions." I snicker then cover my mouth with my hand. "and hey I never have your vein like that!"

He rolls his eyes, groaning. "Oh, really, never?" He teases. "Are you sure about that?" I stick my middle finger up at him earning me a glare.

"But you're one of the only ones who don't drive me completely insane whenever I see you, that much I'll admit to." He says raising an eyebrow at me.

"Yes I'm sure because otherwise you would've kicked me out, thrown something at me, or wouldn't have let me even take a step close to you." i say with a laugh spinning on the chair. "And awww que amable eres Miggy." I tease and smile. (How nice of you)

He chuckles, and when he speaks, it sounds like he's joking and being sarcastic, "Maybe the reason why I'm so calm around you compared to everyone else, is because I'm secretly love with you, or have a crush on you." I nervously chuckle and shrug, huh?

this man is so random...

He laughs again, and then he stops, he looks more serious. "No, but seriously, you're right, you don't make me want to rip my hair out. I'm not saying we're best friends or anything... but you're at least tolerable."

"Now that would be such a plot twist." I say and let out a nervous laugh. "I'm offended you don't think we are best friends but y'know what, we could get there." I reply with a genuine smile.

"I'm actually a really good guy deep down. I'm only really harsh and nasty to the ones who deserve it." He says with a shrug. "If someone cross the line, it's not my fault for having a bad attitude, it's their fault for making it happen." He says and I shake my head.

"And hey if you haven't noticed it already, I tend to be a very, very stubborn man." He says and I bite my lip. "VERY deep down." I joke making him roll his eyes. I gasp and widen my eyes, "and noooo really? I had no idea." I say sarcastically with a little smirk on my lips making him roll his eyes.

He crosses his arms and looks away. After a few seconds, he turns back to me, and his expression is different. "Why are you here, anyways?" He asks, sounding curious rather than angry. "I know the official reason is to check up on me, but what's the unofficial reason, hm?"

I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. Shit. "Unofficial reason? What are you on about?" I say and chuckle. Don't panic don't panic.

"Oh, come on, I'm not that blind. You're here for more than just checking up on me." He folds his arms and has a straight face. "Well, I'm all ears, 'm waiting. Spill it."

His voice sounds like it's a mix between annoyed and teasing, but more of the second than the first. Why does he know me so well???

Then I think of the perfect excuse. "Well I was kinda hoping you would tell me... two little birdies told me to come up for some reason and wouldn't stop giggling." I say letting out a chuckle.

Not a complete lie.

He looks at me, his eyes widening slightly before he lets out a short laugh. "Those fools are up to something, aren't they?" He snickers. "And I'm assuming they didn't tell you what it was?"

"Wait- I thought you would know." I say and shake my head laughing. Thank god he bought it.

"You think I know? There's not a single fucking clue in my mind of what those little gremlins are up to at any given time. They could be pranking someone, pulling the strings behind some kind of elaborate scheme, or planning my downfall. Honestly, who knows?" He says then groans.

I burst out laughing and smile. Too bad he knows them well enough too. "Or potentially all of the above." I say and laugh when a phone rings.

I pull mine out of the pocket of my suit and it wasn't it so I look up at him. He looks back seeing his phone on his desk and shrugs. "Do not tell me they planted a phone in here somewhere to be obnoxious-" he starts to say and I feel a buzzing on the jacket I had on, I widen my eyes and gasp. There it was. HOW THE FUCK????

I take it out and scoff. Those little shits- I answer the phone and scoff. "What are you guys scheming huh?" I ask now completely confused considering I didn't even notice them slip it in.

"Come on down to the cafeteria now!!" Gwen says with a little giggle. "And with Miguel!!" She quickly says before hanging up leaving me speechless.

What the fuck.

Then I look up at Miguel and he looks at me dumbfounded. He takes a step forward and points a finger at me. "Let me find out you were lying to me-"

"I didn't even know the phone was there!!!" I say and shake my head laughing. Sneaky fuckers.

"Well we gotta go to the cafeteria so let's go." I say walking towards the door and motion for him to come.

He groans and soon follows. "If it's anything sticky or stupid-"

"You'll yell at them?" I finish and he shakes his head.

"Oh I could do much worse than just yell-" he says and the protective older sister came out.

"Miguel!!"

"What? They're beyond irritating." He says and lifts his hand up in defense with a smirk.

"They're just kids. Don't tell me you're scared of teenagers....." I tease and nudge him.

He rolls his eyes at me and we continue walking towards the cafeteria. "They're harmless pranks anyway. At least the ones they pull on me... I can imagine they might vary though..." I say and bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

"What's the worst they've done to you?" He asks looking at me raising an eyebrow.

"I think switch up the salt for sugar. My tacos didn't deserve that treatment." I say and laugh.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes making me snicker. "Do I wanna ask?" I say looking up at him.

"I'll tell you, two days ago, esos cabrones me hecharon salsa tan caliente en mi agua, en frente de mi." He says and I smack my hand on my mouth about to burst out laughing and he gives me a glare. (Those fucks put some extremely hot hot sauce in my water in front of me)

"What do you mean in front of you??? You didn't see the color change???? Or hell- THEM? " I ask before covering my mouth again feeling my stomach hurt because I'm not letting the laughter out.

"I wish I knew how they did it, they're sneaky, quiet, like actual fucking spiders because I didn't hear them but I was just in the office and I took a sip and boom my whole face is red in seconds." He says annoyed making me widen my eyes.

"Did you swallow???!?!" I say finally bursting out of laughter and he glared harder but then looks away.

I gasp and cackle. "Estas ciego?" I ask teasingly and he growls. (Are you blind?)

"Shut up."

I lift my hands up in defense and laugh. "At least it wasn't poison." I say and snicker.

He nudges me but harder than I did it and I laugh harder. "You know what you're right, at least they didn't kill me." He says looking at me and rolled his eyes.

I giggle shaking my head as we walk into the cafeteria and I widen my eyes, my mouth falls open. Oh my fucking god.

I blink and cover my mouth suddenly feeling a flush suddenly creep onto my cheeks. They set up a fucking candlelit dinner for two in the middle of the cafeteria. Was I- was I set up????

I step closer to the table and see Miles and Gwen in waiter suits behind some decorations they set up. I look at them absolutely shocked and they just have little smirks on their faces. I then raise my eyebrows at them and look at Miguel behind me and he's holding two wine glasses with a small smile on his face. "YOURE FUCKING LYING-" I scream hiding my now flushed face and bursting out laughing.

I felt my face turn red, and I was unsure if it was from embarrassment or the fact that I didn't mind it.... I calmed myself down and just stared at everything with a shocked expression.

"Th- this was a prank on ME?" I say laughing and shaking my head.

There is no way......

He smirks and nods. I cover my face and wipe the tears that were falling out from laughing so hard. I turn to look at Gwen and Miles and shake my head. "You two owe me a HUGE favor." I say, playfully glaring at them.

They laugh and Gwen motions for me to take her arm so I grab it and she escorts me to one of the chairs making me grin while Miles just stands up there getting the bottle of wine trying to open it. I bite my lip watching him struggle a bit and Miguel turns his attention from looking at my reaction to Miles. "Oh my god- Miles give me that-"

Miles puts a hand up and waves him off to sit down. Miguel hesitantly sits down across from me but doesn't take his eyes off him. "Did you not get the corkscrew???" He growls and runs a hand over his hair looking stressed as hell.

I laugh and cover my face shaking my head. "No lo quiebres cabron-" he says standing up to grab the bottle from him. (Don't break it bitch)

Miles lets him get it and looks at Gwen who widens her eyes at him. He makes a face back and I turn to look back at Miguel who somehow popped it with his bare hands. Obviously this man is jacked but a cork???

I chuckle and shake my head. He looks back to me and smiles, sitting back down. He serves us both a glass and I happily take the glass from him, taking a sip. "So how did this come to be?" I ask curiously taking turns looking at the three of them.

"Can't say I'm shocked, about these two," I say nothing towards Miles and Gwen before turning back to look at Miguel, "how did you get involved? And why this?" I ask and cross my arms over my chest now looking at all of them.

Miles and Gwen both turn to look at Miguel, I look at him raising an eyebrow, when he speaks, "it was my idea."

"What-"

"I'm gonna be honest with you alright? But I just- I need you to hear me out." He says nervously and I nod.

He then looks over at Miles and Gwen and motions for them to leave which they do, walking over to the kitchen before Gwen gives me a sly wink when Miguel turned to look at me. I bite my lip and look back at him, his eyes looking so sincere and I was just appalled. My stomach felt like it was flipping in circles and I was getting a little nervous myself.

"Over the past few months... I've felt myself open up to you, a lot. I usually don't do that but with you it felt like I could just relax and not have to worry so much and just be myself with you." He explains and I feel my heart racing. Oh my god-

I gulp my nerves down and nod as he continues, "You give me a sense of normality and tranquility in this place and I haven't had that in a long time. You've barely been here six months and I feel like you've changed the way I view things, and how I act towards others. You've changed me for the better." He says then lets out a deep breath, his hands slightly shaking against the table.

"I- I think- no-" he stutters and then takes another deep breath and leans forward still looking deeply into my eyes. "I've grown to like you... a lot... and more than just friends."

I felt my heart race and I bite my lip to try to hide my smile from appearing so quickly. Miguel O'Hara likes me?

I was speechless, I couldn't believe the words just came out of his mouth- I didn't think he, of all people here, would think of me that way.... It made my heart flutter knowing he likes me back and suddenly it clicked, that's why he's been so open to me.

He looked at my face carefully, probably to see if he'd make me uncomfortable at all, but he continued, "so I thought this would be a... alright idea for me to uh admit this to you." He says now looking away from me as I take notice of his pink cheeks. Holy shit-

"Well I'm really glad that I was able to help you, I guess I understand why everyone was shocked when you let me in." I say and chuckle, I continue looking at him as he looked off to the side.

I take a deep breath and smile, "I like you too." I say and his face perks up.

"I've really enjoyed spending time with you, and having all kinds of conversations together. I didn't really want to assume you liked me back, I didn't wanna seem cocky or anything, or accidentally cross a line I wasn't meant to-"

He cuts my rambling off by looking up at me and reaching over to softly grab my hands, rubbing his thumb gently on my skin. I bite my lip and hold his hands back. "So let's have this be our first date, yeah?" He says softly and I nod, giving him a wide smile making him return it back.

Suddenly I hear the sounds of giggles and I didn't need my spidey senses to tell me where it came from. "Alright you guys can come in." Miguel shouts out and instantly the sounds of their footsteps are heard.

They run up to us with Gwen carrying a tray and Miles smiles at me. I smile at them both as I hear Miguel sigh, I turn to him and he gives me a soft smile. Suddenly Gwen is putting down the tray of a very clearly homemade pizza in a decent shaped heart. "Thank you madam." I say and she winks.

She set me up. She and Jess are the only ones who have known my true feelings for Miguel..... I doubt she'd told him, but that's why she knew I would be cool with this. So sneaky...

"You're a real one Gwen." I whisper to her and she mouths 'I know' as she takes a step back to stand next to Miles.

They both whisper to each other as I turn to look at Miguel and realize we were still holding hands. I couldn't help the rising heat on my face, I'd never been one to confess my feelings like that, for anyone, ever. Maybe he changed me a bit too...

I squeeze his hands making him grin and I hear the snap of a picture, or multiple actually. He closed his eyes and breathed in, "Miguel it's fine." I say and smile at Gwen who was holding up her phone.

'Send me them later' I mouth to her and she excitedly nods. "Alright thank you guys for your help-" Miguel starts but Miles cuts him off.

"Wait you're not gonna let us join you-"

"No-"

"We're kinda hungry man-"

"I don't care-"

"Malo." Miles mutters and Miguel lifted a hand up probably to throw something at him, and I reached over and intertwined our fingers together. (Bad)

He looked back at me and let out a deep breath, rubbing his thumb on my skin again. His chest was no longer heaving and his breathing was steady. "It's fine." I whisper and he sighs.

He nods and gives me a small smile, almost like a little thank you. I return it back and grin until Miles decided to speak up again, "No fucking way you calmed down the beast-"

"That's fucking it-" Miguel says and letting go of my hands to stand up and quickly stormed over to Miles who made a run for it as soon as he heard Miguel speak.

I roll my eyes and watch as Miguel began to chase after Miles all over the cafeteria. Gwen sat down across from me and looked down at the pizza, I sigh and nod. She gives me a grin and instantly takes a piece, I follow her lead and grab one as well while we watched the free entertainment in front of us.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #across the spiderverse #Miguel O’Hara smut #Miguel ohara smut

117 notes · View notes

gauloiseblue · 2 months

Text

John Price as a arm candy personal bodyguard

General HQ | Part I | Part II

(Enemy to friend to lover AU)

He never planned to be anyone's bodyguard, but here he is, standing beside his wife like a guard dog

To tell the truth, she doesn't really need his protection, but sometimes there's moment when she becomes a target for black market dealers

She has an extensive collection of antiques, and some of them are priceless

So naturally, it becomes his job to keep them safe as well

It's not really a challenge for him because he's used to keeping the military assets safe. He knows all of the tricks and methods to store them and guard them during transport.

Other than that, his days are mostly filled with domestic kind of life

He'd complete his daily training, practice his rifle skill (mainly for hunting birds or deers), and help her with her work

Although he easily adapted into his new life, he's still not used to living in luxury. He has slept on the wet ground of a forest, used to eating the bland ratios, and lived in constant danger. But now, he gets to live comfortably

To cope with it, he sometimes goes on a camping trip for several days. He prefers to do it alone because he doesn't want his wife to get sick when the weather turns bad.

The only luxury that he allows himself to indulge in is having an expensive cigar

Of course, he does it only moderately. For a reason that his wife hates the smell

Whenever they're invited to a party, she'll book him an appointment for suit fitting. He'd complain to her, saying that he had more than enough suit, but she'd win the argument every time

While they might have different views in life, they share the same frame of mind, and have their desires align. She wants a loyal companion, and he wants to devote himself to the right person

One night, as they lay in bed, breathless and tired, she told him that to love someone is to constantly be disappointed by your partner a million times. She asked him if she had already disappointed him enough, and he told her he never expected her of anything in the first place

He knew that her wife kept a personal note in her drawer, and he only opened it once, when they're on the verge of separation. That was the last time that he ever doubted her, the first time he allowed himself to be fooled by his own feelings

You see, he's always the man with rationality, so to allow himself to be controlled by his heart is almost the same as betraying himself

He never regrets his decision, even to this day

Since he's the only one who's retired, his team would visit him from time to time, if their schedule allows them, that is

Soap would joke that if someone had told him years ago that his captain would settle down with her, he'd laugh at their face, asking them what kind of drug they took

(He said it because they both had a rough start. They hated each other on their first meeting)

While it's common for ex special force member to work as a bodyguard, it's rare for them to settle down with someone, let alone marrying the person they work for

Which makes his story into some kind of legend in the army

He'd roll his eyes at every comment about them, but she found it amusing that people either mock him, or wish to be as lucky as him

Sometimes, when his pride takes over, he reminds himself that arrogance won't lead him anywhere in life

But his love will guide him somewhere. Eventually

#cod #call of duty #captain price #captain price x reader #price x reader #there's something about price being a loyal dog..............#i swear I'm normal about it #cod headcanons

66 notes · View notes

frog-0n-a-l0g · 7 months

Text

Bad decisions HQ

Tank:hj

SH: ?

Angel: hey babesss

Tank: I luv u gys so muvh

SH: oh shit

Babe: tank are you ok?

Angel: guys I think theyre dying

Tank: that so meab how coul yoi

Tank: I say I lub you ans yoy panik?

SH: hey tanker where are you?

Tank: arounds

Angel: well that doesn’t help

SH: where’s Sam?

Tank: omg I love hum

Tank: mu mate

Tank: I miss him

Tank: were is hw

Babe: I’ll text him one sec

✨the Wild West🤠✨

Brokeback Mountain: hey have you guys heard from darlin?

Trainer: omg we were just abt to text you

Invisa-bitch: they’re in our gc typing very slurred and going on abt how much they miss their mate

(In BDHQ: tank: where my mwn I misz hom)

Mini alpha👑: I think I heard David talk abt how them and ash were gonna chill for a bit but idk where

Brokeback Mountain: yep. They decided to go to a bar and according to ash they got drunk and ran off in wolf form

Invisa-bitch: well shit

Brokeback mountain: shit indeed

(BDHQ: tank: this birch I truna grab mowhycuiwh

Trainer: omg they just got snatched

Invisa-bitch: omfg some dude grabbed them

Brokeback Mountain: they what?!?! Who? What did they say?

Mini alpha👑: David walked out w Milo I think theyre looking

Trainer: OMFG

Invi-bitch: what?!

Brokeback Mountain: are you ok?

Trainer: Asher just walked in the door w a very drunk and giggly tank over his shoulder

Brokeback Mountain: oh my lord…

Brokeback Mountain: I’ll be over in a second make sure they stay put

Trainer: on it

Mini alpha👑: I texted David so theyre coming back lol

Trainer: Jesus I didn’t know tank could be so sappy

Trainer: they just keep going on and on abt Sam💀

(BDHQ: tank: IMG MU MANNBNBMNNNMNB)

Invisa-bitch: I take it sams there?

Trainer: yup

Invisi-bitch: well I gotta call off a squad search y’all stay safe tho😗✌️

109 notes · View notes

yandere-wishes · 4 months

Note

I just found a love in your almost cult yandere clone tropes and their cyares with the Jedi blessings. I mean damn you (later than ever). I'm imagining Cody and Rex and the bad batch. Or just Cody sharing with 😉 .

You made sprout the cult follower in me.

Here at Yandere-Wishes HQ, we try to inspire the inner cult follower in all our fans. We want the dark, deranged side of all our clients to shin through and someday even start cults of their own. 💜💜

I'm very sorry for how all over the place this is, tried to section it off as best I could. I'm still incredibly jet lagged😭😭

I think the reason behind the Jedi giving their blessing so freely to the clones comes from an inner yearning to be loved. The Jedi know their place in the universe, know that a sentiment-free life is what they must endure. Still, if those around them can be happy, then (in a selfless way befitting a Jedi) they can be happy too. Although I'm rather curious as to what would happen if say Anakin or Obi-wan fell for the cyare of their commanders.

Personally, I think Rex and Cody would definitely share a darling. Same with Echo and Fives (and maybe Tup too). Maybe if you REALLY want to lean into the cult aesthetic Anon, then what if each squadron has its own cyare?? A darling shared amongst all of them (That's a lot but I'm kinda only referring to the relevant troopers from each squadron 🤣🤣) it would be super cute if all her dresses were in said squadron's colors. Kinda like a personal cheerleader for them. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself here lol.

🧡💙Being Cody and Rex's darling.

💙They're both very busy men. Constantly being deployed to the front lines. Always busy with some mission or another. They've tried to make sure at least one of them is with you, so you're never alone. It doesn't work, there are always long periods of time when you are trapped in isolation.

🧡I truly believe that Rex and Cody's cyare wouldn't really "feel" like a "cyare", per se. Sure she doesn't have any freedom and is never permitted to make any decisions on her own. But they treat her so well, give her anything she could ever want, and they never hurt her in any way.

💙Rex and Cody are both strict, not much leniency coming from either one. They have strict rules for they're cyare, under the pretext of keeping her safe. They've seen and experienced all the cruelties of the galaxy. And they don't want ANYTHING to ever hurt you.

🧡Cody is more affectionate. More open with embracing and kissing you. Rex is much more reserved, stiffer. Yet he can't help but melt whenever your lips push against his.

501st sharing (Rex, Fives,Echo, Tup, Jesse, Hardcase and Kix)

It's honestly exhausting belonging to all of them. Constantly being pulled in every direction. Sure the 501st is one of the gentler squadrons per se. But they are smoldering, constantly wanting to touch you in some way. It also doesn't help that regardless of the mission one of them is left behind to "watch" you. Not so much out of a fear of you running away but more out of concern for your well-being. I wonder what would happen if Anakin began to develop feelings for this particular cyare.

As for the bad batch I've yet to watch it (Although I've only heard good things) So I can't make a full observation just yet. Although I'd like to think that Hunter and Wrecker are on the "tougher" side, using force to make their cyare submit. Tech falls more into the stalker category. Take all this with a grain of salt, these ideas will 100% change once I've actually seen the show.

.... All this aside can you imagine Obi-Wan and Cody sharing a darling?? Or even Anakin and Rex sharing a darling?? I mean every cult needs its leader right 😉😘

91 notes · View notes

bokubear · 2 years

Text

THE HQ BOYS WHEN YOUR FEET HURT

featuring ; ( timeskip ! ) atsumu miya + akaashi keiji + sakusa kiyoomi + ushijima wakatoshi + oikawa toru

warnings ; blistering, drinking, tooth-rutting fluff

notes ; wore heels to an event, this thought came to mind driving home … i cried

ATSUMU was more than ready to leave this place. the many lights and cameras flashing in all directions made him effortlessly dizzy, and with that dizziness he couldn’t focus on just how gorgeous you were. but honestly, in that dress that hugged you so perfectly you could make anyone drop to the floor at your command felt so unfair. he was genuinely in awe, fully taking in your power. however, signing countless autographs with an already cramped hand and interviews asking the same nosy questions left an exhausted miya in their dust. so the moment he got note of your agreement to leave, he took the chance with haste. “can you make the trip ?” he giggled, eyeing your hobbling form with amusement. you were not having it, making this situation all the more entertaining to him. “shut up tsum…. my feet hurt so bad..” you whined, nearly stumbling into him and right onto the parking lot pavement until he caught you. the setters brows knit worriedly, pulling the tote bag from your shoulders. “well you should’ve just told me baby.” he huffed, bending over to ease your way on his back as a comfy piggy back ride. “what’re you doing ?” you motioned, apparently confused. “hop on sweetheart, i’m being nice.” this caused your face to break into laughter. “such a gentleman.”

AKAASHI had recently been researching different hiking trails to explore. no, he wasn’t a outdoor person but it was boring in the house and he wasn’t going to waste his day with you doing nothing—so instead, he resorted to hiking. yet it appeared he overestimated the length of this trail in particular, pacing himself to make it to the turn-around point. “k..keiji..” you choked out in hurried gasps, causing the editor to glance behind at you and notice your frazzled state. “do you need a break love ?” he eased, holding out a prepared water bottle for you. “i need a car.” you weakly replied, head leering back. “we can turn around here.” he added, brows rising curiously at your once full bottle being handed back in only a few seconds. “please.” and so. well, maybe keiji was overestimating the intensity after all, because your loud heaving allowed the poor decision to sink in further. “do you need a ride ?” he brought up carefully, your head shooting upwards so quickly it became difficult to contain his laughter. “what ? ride ? where ?” — “here.” the raven-head beckoned to himself expectantly. “aw thanks baby.” you sheepishly smiled at his consideration, not wasting the opportunity. nonetheless, halfway down the path back you’d fallen asleep, cheek smudged a giant his shoulder. adorable. “hold on a little longer, we’re almost there dear.”

SAKUSA, only for you, allowed more “intimate contact.” that “intimate contact” despite your assumption consisted massages or perhaps hugs even. a common misconception. you see, you’d attended his practice the day before, underestimating the constant movement of the players bustling from position to position. now laying in bed the morning after, getting up proved a harder obstacle than before. whilst kiyoomi easily rose, preparing breakfast in the kitchen with his soft humming vibrating into your shared bedroom. “kiyoommiii—“ you dragged out, flayed on the bed unhappily. it was impossible, you absolutely could not get out of bed. “what is it ?” he stood by the doorway, observing your dilemma. looking just as breathtaking as always with his messy black curls dancing to his steps. “.. can you massage my feet ?” hesitantly sinking into the sheets you didn’t dare to peek out. unbeknownst to you, the feeling of cold hands rubbing your aching feet stirred your frame. “where does it hurt ?” he narrowed his eyes, brows knitting with concentration. you anticipated a hard ‘no’ and for him to disappear, his willingly loving gestures causing your chest to squeeze with affection. your lack of reply was answered with a soft tap on your leg from the outside. “tell me where it hurts, i’ll be gentle, just tell me when to stop.” this soft side to sakusa was too sweet to handle.

USHIJIMA insisted upon joining you for drinks with a few drinks. he knew this was marking a long time since seeing your work-friends and your drinking intentions would fly out of the window quickly. with this in mind, he quietly sat beside you like an obedient puppy awaiting his cue. the mentioned ‘cue’ being when you began talking nonsense, leaning towards ushijima in a dazed manner. he was easily adjusted to these antics, good thing his presence was present. “and i thought, ‘toshi, you’re saying this to me ?’” the table ‘awwwed’ at your story referring his morning kisses and soft words he awoke you with, ushijima’s face hearing up progressively. “alright, thank you for tonight everyone, i’ll be taking her back now.” he bowed politely, at that moment your reddened heel catching his gaze. the blister forming had gone unnoticed before, but the discovery fueled him to be extra tedious. lightly lifting you bridal style in his arms, he proceeded to carry you to the car—continuously hushing your babbles with small cheek kisses. the ‘morning kisses and soft words’ portion of the earlier story repeated itself the next morning. uninvited but definitely not disliked. the best part being his husky morning voice, heart fluttering.

OIKAWA felt thrilled to dance with you, the multicolored leds casting an authentic glow that lit up the argentine dance floor in a versions array of color. the entire feeling was ethereal. tipsy, but morally more drunk in love than alcohol. your body in his arms with fluid movement left him speechless. ethereal was a good word for it. too wasted to stay any later, his phone screen flashing furiously with a bright 2:48AM told him plenty. fumbling to the taxi, his attention became snagged when you weight fell to the ground, his focus trained fully on you. “are you okay ? babe ? !” he shrieked, wooden orbs filled with panic. “yeah toru .. i think i rolled my ankle.” you lips puckered unrealistically, drenched in the stench of alcohol. “okay okay okay let’s see..” he spoke to himself worriedly, hauling you in a child-like position to lift you up, all the way to the awaiting taxi. “i got you i got you ..” he frantically reminded, the aftermath resulting in a wiped out oikawa spooned in your chest. and from the moment he pried an eye open he was tending to your every need, convinced you were dying. it was quite relaxing actually.

-maak

plagiarism, repost, and editing is prohibited

2K notes · View notes