โ Ageless/ blank blogs/ blogs with no content will be BLOCKED.
โ I'm a writer that mostly does self-indulgent writings based on what I could come up with or what's in my interest; I don't accept requests, nor do I take them (but it could also change anytime, so watch out in the future).
โ My writing style and genre are different in each work, too, since the type of writing I tend to do (note that there are some works of what I already added/ have, or about to) is: fluff, angst, dark, romance, slow-burn, "enemies to lover" troupe, and slight maturity (children are forbidden in these parts, and I will always add a warning sign(s) or tw(s) too), dystopian society, lgbtq+, etc.
โ masterlist 1, masterlist 2
In the multitude of fandoms based on animes, games, maybe a few on tv series and kpop side. Since I rarely write for kpop these days (mainly animes now), it'll depend on my brain activity to make an effort to get them on the list since I used to start writing them first.
Anime: jjk (jujutsu kaisen), TR (Tokyo Revengers), Castlevania, sk8 the infinity, knb (kuroko no basuke), aot (attack on titan), haikyuu, berserk, death note, fma (full metal alchemist), code gease, Tokyo ghoul, black butler, etc.
K-pop: bts, ateez, mamamoo (I don't join much)
Games (or Otomes): obey me, tw (twisted wonderland), the arcana, ensemble stars, ikemen sengoku, tears of themis, etc.
TV Series: vikings, spn, peaky blinders, stranger things (not much either, since some don't catch my interest)
โ Character.AI
Gojo and Geto: your two bosses (club owners) who are overprotective of you.
Gojo Satoru (Mafia! Au): he wants you back. You were a former undercover police, who was a spy and mole for the police until you escaped him for 5 years.
Sukuna Ryomen: a gang leader; you're not escaping him again.
Toji Fushiguro: a private investigator who is on the hunt for you.
Toji Fushiguro: he's debating on what to do with you. The hired Sorcerer Killer was sent out for you, and you're more than he bargained for. You're the older half-sister of the brat Gojo.
A/n: another blurb cuz why tf not? Another Dad!Simon and this man deserve all the softness in the world. Plus, I am not a professional in baby-ology, so take this cute drabble with a grain of salt. ๐ค๐ป
Simon was convinced his child hated him; the first six months were hard. He might as well get a reward trophy for participation in creating one of the prettiest girls in the world instead. The man tried to get his daughter to get used to him, but every time he hold her, the baby girl realized she wasn't in her mother's arms and they wriggled, before fussing and let out a few cries before going to a full-blown one. Thus, this lead you having to drop whatever you're doing and tend to the baby instead as Simon take over the current chore(s).
"Simon, just give it some time."
The sentence you always use to comfort him, but he still feels a little discouraged, maybe a bit hurt on the inside at the baby's refusal to be in his arms. He was excited for nine months to see his baby girl, but only for her to reject him once she came out of the womb.
"She'll come around, and once she do it'll be worth the wait."
.
The only time the baby seems to stay content in his arms, albeit a little angsty like always when you're not around, and the calmness appears to remain stagnant only for a moment until she starts fussing again; their little whimpers begin to bubble out, as wondering glossy little beady eyes search the room for you as they feel disconnected from their mother who was nowhere to be seen. Simon does his best to quell the child and soothe them before they can cry again.
But alas, it failed as their eyes had tears wounded up in them, and he already knew the signal cries she was going to make. So he had to speed dial you on call and put you on speaker to talk to the child. Honestly, Simon felt terrible for calling you for something as minor as this when he promised to take care of the baby and that he 'got this' for the next few hours when you did the shopping run. "Sorry, Love, it seems she wants to hear you."
Once the baby has heard your voice, they immediately stop crying and listen intently to your sound, like in a trance. The man felt hopeless about the child wanting you only, not him; he watched how they calmed down into obedience as he rocked them from side to side. The amazing things you do that soothe the child in a heartbeat.
But it wasn't until your voice was directed at him.
"Simon, I know you're doing your best trying to have her adjust to you, and I want you to know that I am proud of you for not giving up."
His heart warms at that.
.
It was late noon when he let his baby girl sprawl on the floor inside her playpen as he was watching a show while keeping an eye on her. The moment the little girl gained consciousness as a separate entity from her mother, she began to roll over on her stomach before crawling to sit up, and her little eyes glossed over, looking around the playpen, searching for the maternal needs before it landed on Simon who took his eyes off her for a fraction.
Her little bottom lips begin to quiver and poke out before bursting into tears as Simon quickly steps into his fatherly instinct and scoops up the baby into his arms, silencing her. They bleary wipe their beady tears away with stubby fingers before looking up at him and seeing her father's eyes looking down at her. She sniffed as Simon wiped the snot away with a thumb under her nose, "It's okay, I got you," his voice deeply resonated when he patted her back as his baby girl kept looking at him like it was seeing him for the first time in a different light.
With another sniffle and a little disgruntled noise, she rubs her eyes again and presses her forehead to the thumping side of his heart, slowly calming down. She realized it wasn't so bad to be in her father's arms and have another parent close to her to ease her separation anxiety.
It felt like magic for Simon, how she eased her miniature body into his instead of rejecting him and crying for you until you had to come and get her. He continues to soothe her while swaying from side to side, and you pop out of the corner on the open archway into the living room from the kitchen to see the storm after the rainbow.
You were about to say something, but you quietly mouth:
Yesterday when this shit 'disappeared' from my draft box, I nearly died and panicked, thinking that it got deleted. I usually keep backups for drabbles and fics just in case something like that happens, but it got uploaded early before I could queue it.
A/n: another blurb cuz why tf not? Another Dad!Simon and this man deserve all the softness in the world. Plus, I am not a professional in baby-ology, so take this cute drabble with a grain of salt. ๐ค๐ป
Simon was convinced his child hated him; the first six months were hard. He might as well get a reward trophy for participation in creating one of the prettiest girls in the world instead. The man tried to get his daughter to get used to him, but every time he hold her, the baby girl realized she wasn't in her mother's arms and they wriggled, before fussing and let out a few cries before going to a full-blown one. Thus, this lead you having to drop whatever you're doing and tend to the baby instead as Simon take over the current chore(s).
"Simon, just give it some time."
The sentence you always use to comfort him, but he still feels a little discouraged, maybe a bit hurt on the inside at the baby's refusal to be in his arms. He was excited for nine months to see his baby girl, but only for her to reject him once she came out of the womb.
"She'll come around, and once she do it'll be worth the wait."
.
The only time the baby seems to stay content in his arms, albeit a little angsty like always when you're not around, and the calmness appears to remain stagnant only for a moment until she starts fussing again; their little whimpers begin to bubble out, as wondering glossy little beady eyes search the room for you as they feel disconnected from their mother who was nowhere to be seen. Simon does his best to quell the child and soothe them before they can cry again.
But alas, it failed as their eyes had tears wounded up in them, and he already knew the signal cries she was going to make. So he had to speed dial you on call and put you on speaker to talk to the child. Honestly, Simon felt terrible for calling you for something as minor as this when he promised to take care of the baby and that he 'got this' for the next few hours when you did the shopping run. "Sorry, Love, it seems she wants to hear you."
Once the baby has heard your voice, they immediately stop crying and listen intently to your sound, like in a trance. The man felt hopeless about the child wanting you only, not him; he watched how they calmed down into obedience as he rocked them from side to side. The amazing things you do that soothe the child in a heartbeat.
But it wasn't until your voice was directed at him.
"Simon, I know you're doing your best trying to have her adjust to you, and I want you to know that I am proud of you for not giving up."
His heart warms at that.
.
It was late noon when he let his baby girl sprawl on the floor inside her playpen as he was watching a show while keeping an eye on her. The moment the little girl gained consciousness as a separate entity from her mother, she began to roll over on her stomach before crawling to sit up, and her little eyes glossed over, looking around the playpen, searching for the maternal needs before it landed on Simon who took his eyes off her for a fraction.
Her little bottom lips begin to quiver and poke out before bursting into tears as Simon quickly steps into his fatherly instinct and scoops up the baby into his arms, silencing her. They bleary wipe their beady tears away with stubby fingers before looking up at him and seeing her father's eyes looking down at her. She sniffed as Simon wiped the snot away with a thumb under her nose, "It's okay, I got you," his voice deeply resonated when he patted her back as his baby girl kept looking at him like it was seeing him for the first time in a different light.
With another sniffle and a little disgruntled noise, she rubs her eyes again and presses her forehead to the thumping side of his heart, slowly calming down. She realized it wasn't so bad to be in her father's arms and have another parent close to her to ease her separation anxiety.
It felt like magic for Simon, how she eased her miniature body into his instead of rejecting him and crying for you until you had to come and get her. He continues to soothe her while swaying from side to side, and you pop out of the corner on the open archway into the living room from the kitchen to see the rainbow after the storm.
You were about to say something, but you quietly mouth:
A/n: A thought occurred to me after a video I saw. I got brain-rotted with this. ๐ซ the rendering goes to no one but the absolute and amazing @ave661 โค๏ธ
Imagine Simon with his little girl, who was approaching a year old soon... Well, not soon; that was still four months away, but he thought of this ridiculous idea when he saw countless videos of babies gravitating to one specific item on their birthday. So he, himself, needs some form of entertainment from his daughter, who never failed to make his heart turn to mush and got him wrapped around her little fingers. Simon places his tiny princess on the floor, rummaging through her toy box for items.
When Simon came back, he sat in front of his curious little girl, who tilted her head at her father before bursting into a blubbering mess of spits and giggles, which drew out a soft smile from the man's lip. Seeing how her eyes crinkle at the corners, Simon laid the items on the floor for her.
A hammer: architecture or judge.
A children's book: teacher or whatever means to further education.
A stethoscope: a doctor.
A animal: veterinarian.
There was more, but it would take forever, so he opted for those toys.
With all the items laid out, he coaxed his little girl, "C'mon, pick one, love." Patiently waiting for the girl to pick out one of the items, she had her chin tucked under her neck and focused on all the items with her brows pinched together. There is so much attitude in such a tiny body. She glances up at Simon before looking at the items again, before slowly crawling towards them.
Simon watches as she gets closer to the items until she stops in front of them, and with a swipe of her stubby arms, she pushes all the items away and crawls towards him. "Dada." The one word she utters, and she chooses Simon above all else and clings to him. For Simon, he wasn't one to be emotional; he cried at the birth of his daughter, now again because of her. He wraps his arms around her tiny body and quietly cries when smiling down at his little girl, who blinks and smiles at him innocently, seeing those teeth of hers poking out from her gums.
Gosh, how much he loves his daughter.
He didn't know he was a choice for her, his little sweet girl, until today.
โ sy's notes | masterlist here. please READ THE TAGS. on this fic particularly, i seem to encounter people who trigger themselves.
Miguel had many girls.
None gave a shit when it came down to it. They talked a good game over text messages and phone calls, tried their best to please him sexually, and snuck into their bed. They might even have lunch or dinner with him. Very rarely this.
He was doing his notes that Monday afternoon, scribbling away when his phone lit up. He flicked a look, realizing it was your photo that popped up. Not the many cum stained photos he had in his phone in your own folder. Those were not safe for any of his bosses to see, but one of those sweet photos that Peterโs taken.
Miguel isnโt stupid. He knows a love-sick puppy when he sees one. One look at Peterโs socials reveals many things: volunteering with a high school club to teach photography, stupid little flowers that he finds gorgeous, a number of subjects for his fine arts degrees, and on Sunday-- you. Sitting on a chunky rock in a beautiful dress in a stream, the sun bouncing off your strawberry-dusted cheeks. He has to do something about Peter.
โยฟQuรฉ pasรณ, Princesa? Iโm finishing my notes.โ
โI have something for you,โ you answered. โCome outside.โ
โFor me?โ Miguel tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder, closing his manilla folder that held a time-sensitive report. Miguel grabbed his keys and wallet, heading for the door. Everyone else was gone for the day, but Miguel did his homework in the lab.
โSรญ,โ you laughed. โยฟQuiรฉn mรกs?โ
โTch,โ
At least those Spanish lessons are paying off. Miguel rushes down the three flights of stairs in record time and pops out the back door. You pushed past the archways into the beautiful gardens that usually obscure pedestrians from staring at scientists as they quickly woof down their food and bolt back inside to deal with whatever piteous work they had. Miguel slips on his dark sunglasses, turning his arms one over another. You have time to stop and appreciate nature, more than he could say about even himself.
โPrincesa,โ he hangs up the phone and takes a few steps to the tables where you were, twirling around the scent of fragrant orange blossoms. He bites back an amused smile, his voice picking up in a humored lilt. โWhat are you doing?โ
โDancing!โ you hopped on one stone table, then the other.
โDonโt fall,โ Miguel snatches you short of falling off the third table, setting your ass down with a mindful pull of your dark burgundy skirt over your thighs. โWhy did you call?โ
You supply him with a wicker picnic basket that was hooked over your elbow, pulling open the flap. The warm smell of meat and corn greeted his nose, finally shaking loose the smile that he had suppressed since you first called him.
โI brought you dinner.โ
He blinks.
โMe?โ
โYou said you had to study for your test,โ you looked up at the red brick building, โItโs better if you donโt get distracted by going out for food.โ
He doesnโt have the heart to tell you that he usually brings his own food, regimented as he is. Miguel sets his hands on your hips and watches as you pull free whatever it was you made him. You set aside the basket and offer him the glass container and a bag of tamales, enveloped in their warm little husks.
โMenudo. And these are tamales con carne. My familia makes them every year. I brought them just for you.โ
โYou didnโt have to,โ he murmured.
โBut I wanted to.โ You reached for the envelope collar of his lab coat, smoothing it down against his chest. โBesides, every one of my primas do it for their men. I canโt keep just bringing food home for Peter.โ
Itโs not that serious, he wants to say. Thereโs something soft about the way you recount it to him. He canโt stand to go against what youโre saying and instead sets the food back in its home, tucking your hair behind your ear. He traces the shell to your lobes, flicking his finger against the dripping earrings.
โCome upstairs.โ
โNo,โ you answer quickly, leaning up to place a meager little kiss on his cheek. โYou should be studying and if I go up thereโฆโ
Heโd definitely get in trouble bringing his fuck buddy up to his office. Still, it might be worth it.
โI wonโt get anything done,โ he finishes. โGive me a real goodbye kiss.โ
โYou didnโt like that kiss?โ
โIt was a sad kiss.โ
Peter was an essential part of your life.
He was closer than a friend if such things spaces between friendship and relationships existed. You supposed that in the absence of romantic relationships, friendships were the next best thing. Who else, but family, would support you? You nibbled on a hunk of toast with sweetened cream cheese and frozen berries ala Peter, whose head draped over your thigh. Your fingers combed through his thin brown hair, twirling bits around your index finger as he lay with a full belly and fuller thoughts.
โSooo, how did it go?โ Peter asked, staring at fluffy clouds that whirled by that perfectly cozy afternoon. โDid my super awesome plan go perfectly?โ
Youโre too shy to talk about it.
โAw it did, didnโt it? I knew it!โ Peter reached up, tickling his fingers through the ribbons of a pearl headband you wore that day. โIs he good? I hear all kinds of stuff about him.โ
โPeter,โ blood rushed to your face. โWe havenโtโฆโ
โHavenโt what?โ he asked. โOhhh. Oh. You havenโt fucked him? I thoughtโฆโ
โWe did-- just not that,โ you patted his warm pink cardigan, flapping your hand down. โWe havenโt you know--โ
โHad sex?โ
Peter could be too much sometimes. Today was one of those aggravating days. You settled down your hunk of toast, bobbing your head in a nod, eager to explain without making the words. โJustโฆ oral. I couldnโt Peter, Iโm not ready yet.โ
โI know,โ Peterโs tone goes soft. โBut he canโt be happy about that.โ
โWhat do you mean?โ
โEvery time Miguel has a new girl, he makes sure to fuck them as soon as possible. Keeps โem connected, or something, or thatโs what Dana says.โ
โWhoโs Dana?โ you chirped after him. โWhy didnโt you tell me?โ
โYouโฆ looked so sad seeing him with someone else. I couldnโtโฆ break your heart like that."
โYou couldnโt tell me, but you could kiss me?โ
โIt was a nice kiss. Isnโt it about time for him to stomp past here?โ
You wonder what Peter might mean by that. He slid his eyes shut, humming with one long leg thrown over the other. About time for his afternoon nap until you shook him awake because of your sore arms or back-- whichever came first. He slides his eyes shut, going to sleep under the feeling of your fingers twirling through his hair.
โYouโre impossible, Peter.โ
Peter was always right. You spotted your muscular man walking past the hedges, in a clean white shirt that obscured nothing about his muscles. You thought he would do what he usually did: wave, move on, talk to whatever whore of the day was on his arm.
He was walking with a girl who was tall and lithe. She made no moves to cling onto him as he slipped down the slight grassy slope where you sat with Peter, reviewing the intricacies of corrugated pottery before class. Your heart soared in your chest as he crouched down, a hand on his knee, scanning Peterโs face.
โI thought we talked about this.โ
You didnโt expect those to be the first words out his lips, but lo, they were. He regarded Peter the same way he might an annoying animal with their favourite human, with blatant distaste and a passing hint of jealousy. You didnโt understand why.
โAboutโฆโ
โOther men.โ
โPeter isnโt another man. Heโs non-negotiable.โ
Miguelโs thick eyebrows pushed together as he processed the blatant line in the sand that you drew. You werenโt about to give up your dear friend, picnic dates at lunch, or photography shoots on the weekend for a man you sucked off. No matter how good he tasted and how thick his muscles were, crouched with those wild chocolate eyes.
โIโll stay away from other men-- but not him. You take it or leave it.โ
Miguel worked his jaw, clearly debating on the value of fighting you then and there. Miguel didnโt negotiate. It was never in his nature.
โMiggy,โ called the woman on the sidewalk. She wore a dark bob, a streak of purple spiraling along her head. She has a terribly squeaky tone, one that is full of ire from having to say anything at all. โThe samples.โ
โThis isnโt over, Princesa.โ
He relented. Not because he wanted to, but because time was undoubtedly limited. You were pretty sure it was.
Miguel is breaking another rule. Not only does he glaze over Peter in your life, but he brings you to his apartment for tutoring. Heโd deal with Peter after he secured you. You were proving one of the most difficult of his women to keep.
Come over, it'll be private, he claimed in a text message. Itโs absolutely not to peel away your soft pale pink panties nestled up against your cunt, drag them down your hips, and onto the floor. Heโll keep those.
Itโs not because the desk in the study room would do nothing to obscure his sinewy frame, shoving your legs apart and dragging you to the very edge of the seat.
โTake your vocabulary quiz.โ You nibbled on your pencil as Miguel buried his head between your thighs, biting down on your thick thighs to encourage you to spread your legs wider. You breathed out an elongated hiss at another bite to your opposing thigh.
โPero, Miguel-- howโฆโ you murmured, making the mistake of looking between your legs. Miguel met your gaze, possessed with the smell of your body. You greet him with a choked-out groan of his name the second his mouth connected with your pussy. He knew you would taste sweet.
โItโs very simple. You start writing,โ The quiz should be easy. A simple finish the sentences with the right word and vocabulary word box to boot. It was terribly easy-- if not for Miguelโs tongue suckling the juices that dripped from your core, you might have already finished it. It was hard-- too hard-- to focus on anything but Miguelโs warm tongue prodding your cunt, his fingers sliding within your hole. Miguel urges his finger around the rim. โPreferably something in Spanish.โ
His tongue slid from your entrance to your clitoral hood. Another finger joins the first, twisting and pulling apart your impossibly tight hole. He just knew you would feel amazing. He suckled along your lips, suckling them wet as you struggled to read and make any sense of what was on the page. It wasnโt going to happen.
โMiguel, Miguel--โ Your voice drew out, it had been so long since you had a partner. โDame mรกs.โ
โThere you go,โ Miguel hummed, closing his mouth around your puffy clit in worship for the admittance. The pencil tumbled free from your fingers. Without thinking, your hand buried into Miguelโs silky dark brown hair, rolling your hips onto his face to pursue an orgasm. He suckled it fat and needy, his fingers curving in your body. With a soft sob, the pleasure caused you to gush messily all over his fingers. Your fingers knotted up in his hair, riding his face until youโre left with nothing but the cozy haze of your pleasure.
You donโt know how youโre going to pass this stupid language requirement now.
Miguel kisses you, soft and sweet, gentle and light. You taste yourself on his tongue and worry about the way you taste. Miguel doesnโt seem to have a single complaint. He grabs your hands, helping you to stand upright, even though your legs were as stable as a newborn giraffeโs. With your body against Miguelโs, you could feel the outline of his cock nice and hard, tenting his sweatpants.
โShould we take this to bed?โ
โIโฆโ you asked, shyly so. โIโm not ready for that. Is thatโฆ okay?โ
Coรฑo. Itโs not the answer he hoped for, but Miguel can be patient. He dips his head down and resigns himself to a night of jerking himself off. He had been looking forward to today, fucking his new girl. He steeled himself from any reaction that may inch across his face and offered you his hand.
โClaro que sรญ, princesa,โ Miguel finds himself saying. Itโs not that you canโt retract the consent, but he knows that you have some shyness to do so. He rather honesty over concern for his ego. The session had at least been an hour-- with Miguelโs focus fading at the sight of your cute little pink dress. โWe can stop here. You can take the test as homework. Have it done by next time.โ
โButโฆ youโre hard.โ
โItโs not the first time Iโve jerked off,โ Miguel shrugs off the thought. It wasnโt how he imagined today going, but it wasnโt-- Miguel dropped his gaze down to his waistband. Your fingers tingle over the white ties, pull them loose.
โI want to take care of you,โ you shoved his sweats onto the floor, pooling around his slender feet. Miguelโs cock bobbed in the cool air, impossibly hard. You walked him back from his desk to his bed. He falls back on it, his big dick kissing his muscular stomach. โLay back.โ
He found himself eagerly complying. You snatched the lube he keeps on his desk, likely knowing that he kept it there for just this reason. Miguel likes to think that his sexual needs are usually met-- but sometimes, they arenโt. You shoved his legs apart and climbed onto the bed, gliding your hands up the inside of his thighs. A warmth filled his lower belly as you popped open the plastic bottle and drizzled it over his cock. The cool liquid made him flinch.
โItโs not that cold,โ you asked, a tease on your lips.
โYou find it funny? Let me pour some on you, then,โ Miguel remarked, his gaze following your fingers. You gripped him, soothing your palms over the top of his cock and back down, milking him like with your soft hands. You spend particular time smoothing over his root, tracing his veins up to the tip. Your thumb massaged his slit, smoothing a soft bead of fluid that gathered there.
โDo you like it?โ you asked.
โItโs nice.โ
He hummed and lolled his head back onto his pillow. You met him where he was, your lips against his, exchanging a soft and wet kiss. A groan escaped his chest, clearly appreciating your affection. You want him to love it, need it, and crave it at the end of the day. Maybe you could not do all the things the other women could, but there was something about the way you looked and touched him that he knew he could not easily replicate.
โMiggy. How do I make it better?โ You asked, more of a whine than anything.
"Better?" Miguel reached up, cupping your breast with one hand. He gives you a squeeze, urging your nipple to harden underneath the fabric. His hazy eyes turn to the other breast, repeating the treatment. You nodded as he worked-- and it's cute how much you want to make him happy.
โLet me fuck your tits. Get on your back, take the dress off,โ Miguel looked toward the bottle of lube. He finally has you naked. Every inch you peeled away revealed a little more precious skin that heโs craved to see all week. You slipped off the dress, then your bra, laying back on the sheets. The lube is lukewarm, but when it hit your warm skin, it caused you to flinch too.
โOh, now itโs cold,โ Miguel teased. You smeared the wet lube over your breasts, pushing them together just right. Warmth bit your cheeks as Miguel mounted you, either muscular thigh on the side of your ribs. Between his large body cradling your breasts and his eyes on yours, he realized that you were terribly shy. He rubs the head of his cock against your nipples before sliding between your breasts. โYouโre so shy.โ
โIโm sorry,โ you nodded. It becomes clear that as much as you trust him-- there is some barrier to complete trust. Miguel began to thrust, his hips cantering in the warm, wet lubricant. You could appreciate every day he spent at the gym, making a physique that other men could only aspire to. He was so thick-- so handsome. His breath came out in sharp little puffs as he worked, hands coming on top of yours for both stability and the opportunity to touch you. His fingers slid between the empty gaps of your own, eyes closed, face taut with pleasure.
You knew, as much as he knew, what he was thinking of. His cock wrecking your pussy for the first time because no matter how many times you jerked him off, sucked his cock, or let him fuck your tits, heโd always wonder. He was certain you wanted it too, wanted to feel what it would be like to be under him-- pounded pretty. Your head rose to watch his cockhead peep out between your breasts. Every sweeping motion was rewarded with a little lick, earning a hiss of your name. His measured features hardened.
โCoรฑo,โ Miguel cursed as the thick ropes of his cum coated your tits. He forced himself forward, cum pumped over your collarbone and neck, dripping into your hair. The grip on your breast was unrelenting, while the other jerked himself through the bolts of aftershock. To his surprise, you gathered his cum between your fingers and suckled it, tasting his warm salty fluid on your tongue. He watched you, enraptured, as you cleaned yourself-- then went after his softening dick, suckling the spent seed there.
โBeautiful,โ he murmured as he pulled away. You followed, inching up his chest to kiss him. He tasted himself, finding that he liked how he tasted much more when it was on your tongue. โStay the night.โ
He never asked anyone to stay the night. It was a flagrant violation of another rule that all the others knew he had. Miguel was open to having another roommate. A pretty girl to fuck and keep. She just had to be the right kind of girl. He has a feeling youโre that girl, nestling between his arm and chest, holding him close.
He just had to fuck you first to find out.
The thing about having multiple girls is-- his interest wanes.
He never knows the exact cause. Only that heโs distracted with you. Perhaps itโs your resistance to letting him actually fuck you. Not eat you out, not have his dick sucked, not fuck your tits, but fuck you. Heโs thought about how a hundred different ways. Against the museum, in his bed, in the library, his private office-- It encompasses much of his attention. You were at Peterโs art showing Friday night, which was how he ended up here with Dana, yet again.
She wants to see this stupidly romantic movie that no one else is really into from the looks of the empty seats. Miguel isnโt invested either, his mind is racing with thoughts of someone else. Her lips are wrapped around his dick in the dark movie theatre, he goes soft. Soft-- Miguel rarely goes soft, heโs looking for a hole to fuck into. Apparently, this one is no good. He eventually sighs, pushing on her head to remove her from his cock.
โWhat is it, Miggy?โ
A balance of light and shadows highlight her face as she sits there, looking positively aggravated with her failed Friday night date. Miguel knows that he canโt perform like this. He glances down at the near-empty theatre and itches the back of his neck, tucking himself back into his jeans.
โIโm not horny,โ he murmured, folding his arms one over the other. Heโs surprised she can hear him over the beaming sound of the movie theatre. She does, shoving his shoulder in protest over his shitty performance.
โYouโre usually horny,โ she bites back.
โThen maybe itโs you.โ
The impulse to take it out on Dana is out before he can control it. She flicks her head at him, her slight eyes popping wide open. She searches Miguelโs flat features for an apology, ruffling her fluffy purple bangs away from her eyes. He doesnโt give her one.
โOh, now you donโt want me? Ever since youโve started seeing that teashop bitch,โ Miguel perked his brow up, โYou donโt have time for me. What? Is she that good?โ
Tea shop bitch. Itโs been over a week of trying to get you to fuck him at multiple intervals. He hasnโt been able to. Not for a lack of trying, but your shy deflection and offers to do things like-- pick an orange off the trees by his building, walk around on a date, or just touch one another. He tried to understand: you werenโt a girl that ran out to date many men. In fact, heโs pretty sure that he is the outlier in your sex life.
โYouโre right,โ he says. โWe should stop fucking.โ
โWhat?โ
โYouโre too attached,โ Miguel stood up, his hands forming tight balls in his pockets. โAnd Iโm just not that interested.โ
โWhen did that change? A month ago? Miguel?โ
He doesnโt have time for her stupid possessiveness, her obsession with keeping her slot as his default bitch. Other women told him all about Dana-- how she tended to show up where they were, bumping into them, or the rumors she spread in the department. He jots down the stairs, ignoring her squealing call of his name. The issue with Dana was this: she loved him far too much and he loved her far too little. As with so many of his once-were fuckbuddies, it was better for Miguel to go on his way.
Or, it would have been. He received a concerning message the next day.
I donโt want to see you again.
Itโs from your number. Any attempted calls go straight to voicemail. Logically, he should have been able to count it as a loss and move on with any of the other women he had in his life. Illogically, Miguel wants an explanation. If he canโt get one from you, he knows just who will give him one.
Jess already knows what itโs about from the look behind her yellowed sunglasses. Her arms are turned one over the other, clearly having some sort of reservation from this meeting alone. She seems pissed off at him too despite the fact that he has no idea what the fuck he did. He only knows that youโve virtually disappeared from his life.
โAre you going to tell me?โ Miguel asks.
The crispy bagel sits forgotten before him, alongside the coffee that plumes wisps of heat into the air. Jess flicks her eye down to the steam, then back to Miguel.
โI told you to leave that girl alone in the first place.โ
โYou also set us up. I should know why she left.โ
Jess looked off to the wind wisping through the trees, then to everybody that walked on by. There was an undeniable truth to what he said, her involvement was obvious and disconcerting. Whatever had happened, he deserves an explanation. You werenโt going to make this easy to talk to you, but he was intent. So long as he knew the depth of your irritation with him.
โSomeone burned Peter. Something aboutโฆ what was it? Stealing her man?โ
He hates that he doesnโt have to ask who.
"Is he hurt?"
"Bad enough," Jess answers. "Y'know how special he is to her."
๐ฉ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ : miguel o'hara x gn! reader
๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐๐ฌ: n/a
๐๐จ๐ง๐ญ๐๐ง๐ญ: crack/ comedy, fluff, (name) with that gremlin attitude, โจasstheticqueโจ, getting on his nerves, established relationship, spider/non-spider (name)
๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ: "hey, it looked at me first."
๐/๐ง: help, I kennot escape this man...๐ there are some things in here that are what me and friends used to do in high school too. For funsies, especially the 2nd one. I hope some of my Spanish isn't lost to me too.
You were swiveling in your chair, legs propped up like a frog while spinning around like a circle. Miguel had been staring at the screen for who knows how long before standing up. Your spin slowly stopped when you stopped directly with his back turned against you and heard the chair cracking from the weight being lifted off. You weren't trying to make it obvious, but goddamn him. Every. Single. Time.
All those cakes all up in your face like it's your birthday.
"Holy fuck," you mutter before swinging your head to look at the screen again, acting like nothing happened, 'monkey do not see, monkey do not know'. Miguel looked over his shoulder at you, and he saw you eyeing him out of your peripheral view before averting to look at the bright screens within split second.
"Something the matter?" He caught you, and you smack your lips together before saying it was nothing. Miguel then hums. Idling around, your eyes looked at your fingers that rapport against the desk.
You smack your lips again, turning your head to look at Miguel, "Actually, there is. How do you carry all that ass on a Thursday morning?"
Miguel groan at that, "(Name)..."
You: "It's a valid question. You ever wonder you can replace Perseu's statue in the museum too?"
Then Layla's presence was announced on Miguel's shoulder with loud laughter.
ยฐ
"Izquierdo, derecho, izquierdo, derecho," (left, right, left, right) was your new sudden prayer when you suddenly lagged when a wild Mayday had appeared; then they nestled in your arms as they babble away. But your eyes were intense on one thing, and Miguel doesn't need to know what it is.
Miguel: "Querido/a..."
You: "Hey, it looked at me first."
With a whole bunch of spiders added into the mix, then you also added in there is a formula for chaos. Especially when Hobie is around, it's like having two devils setting the place of fire, Miguel should've kept you as a secret. The man internally groan.
"What's with you and...ass?" The man stops walking, pinches his brow with two fingers then turns around to look at you. Mayday had your face in both her puggy hands as you made puffer fish lips at her. She giggles when you tried to made the attempt to pretend you were going to kiss her.
"I like the extra cushion, okay? I'm sure you look at mine too when I'm not looking." Miguel was about to open his mouth to say something, but close it up when the only word that managed to pass his lips was, 'That..' A little smug look went across your lips.
ยฐ
There were rare days when Miguel was out of his suit; he was antsy like he was allergic to regular clothes for once. His work was always a 25/8 job, not a 9/5, then call it a day. There's no sleep for the wicked, you guess.
"Hey, hey," you appear into the room where he mostly stays and hooked onto a belt loophole and slowly spin the man around to face you. It wasn't until your hands settled into the back of his pants pocket. You were looking up at him, your chin resting against the crevice of his pecs and you smiled up at him. "I thought it was chill day?"
Miguel swoops down to kiss your forehead as a greeting by lowering his head. "I'm just checking," you squint your eyes at him and made a face, "I really am."
There was a knowing hum from you, and he swooped in again to kiss the side of your temple this time. "That's hard to believe; once you work, you work. There's no rest, not even a ten-minute break." Wiggling your fingers inside his back pockets to press the cakes, he tenses up, and you happily laugh when he is caught off-guard. You both almost topple at how he stumbles a bit back; if it wasn't for him putting a hand against the monitor's desk.
"Don't play with me right now, Corazoncito/a," Miguel warned, and you only let out another hum for him to go on if he dared. And he did. Miguel, broad arms encase around your midsection and change the position by hoisting you up, twirling you, and seating you on the desk. "I told you so," he then frees an arm. Miguel's fingers grab your jaw and press a thumb to your lips. "Now get ready for me."
๐ฉ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ : miguel o'hara x gn! reader
๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐๐ฌ: n/a
๐๐จ๐ง๐ญ๐๐ง๐ญ: crack/ comedy, fluff, (name) with that gremlin attitude, โจasstheticqueโจ, getting on his nerves, established relationship, spider/non-spider (name)
๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ: "hey, it looked at me first."
๐/๐ง: help, I kennot escape this man...๐ there are some things in here that are what me and friends used to do in high school too. For funsies, especially the 2nd one. I hope some of my Spanish isn't lost to me too.
You were swiveling in your chair, legs propped up like a frog while spinning around like a circle. Miguel had been staring at the screen for who knows how long before standing up. Your spin slowly stopped when you stopped directly with his back turned against you and heard the chair cracking from the weight being lifted off. You weren't trying to make it obvious, but goddamn him. Every. Single. Time.
All those cakes all up in your face like it's your birthday.
"Holy fuck," you mutter before swinging your head to look at the screen again, acting like nothing happened, 'monkey do not see, monkey do not know'. Miguel looked over his shoulder at you, and he saw you eyeing him out of your peripheral view before averting to look at the bright screens within split second.
"Something the matter?" He caught you, and you smack your lips together before saying it was nothing. Miguel then hums. Idling around, your eyes looked at your fingers that rapport against the desk.
You smack your lips again, turning your head to look at Miguel, "Actually, there is. How do you carry all that ass on a Thursday morning?"
Miguel groan at that, "(Name)..."
You: "It's a valid question. You ever wonder you can replace Perseu's statue in the museum too?"
Then Layla's presence was announced on Miguel's shoulder with loud laughter.
ยฐ
"Izquierdo, derecho, izquierdo, derecho," (left, right, left, right) was your new sudden prayer when you suddenly lagged when a wild Mayday had appeared; then they nestled in your arms as they babble away. But your eyes were intense on one thing, and Miguel doesn't need to know what it is.
Miguel: "Querido/a..."
You: "Hey, it looked at me first."
With a whole bunch of spiders added into the mix, then you also added in there is a formula for chaos. Especially when Hobie is around, it's like having two devils setting the place of fire, Miguel should've kept you as a secret. The man internally groan.
"What's with you and...ass?" The man stops walking, pinches his brow with two fingers then turns around to look at you. Mayday had your face in both her puggy hands as you made puffer fish lips at her. She giggles when you tried to made the attempt to pretend you were going to kiss her.
"I like the extra cushion, okay? I'm sure you look at mine too when I'm not looking." Miguel was about to open his mouth to say something, but close it up when the only word that managed to pass his lips was, 'That..' A little smug look went across your lips.
ยฐ
There were rare days when Miguel was out of his suit; he was antsy like he was allergic to regular clothes for once. His work was always a 25/8 job, not a 9/5, then call it a day. There's no sleep for the wicked, you guess.
"Hey, hey," you appear into the room where he mostly stays and hooked onto a belt loophole and slowly spin the man around to face you. It wasn't until your hands settled into the back of his pants pocket. You were looking up at him, your chin resting against the crevice of his pecs and you smiled up at him. "I thought it was chill day?"
Miguel swoops down to kiss your forehead as a greeting by lowering his head. "I'm just checking," you squint your eyes at him and made a face, "I really am."
There was a knowing hum from you, and he swooped in again to kiss the side of your temple this time. "That's hard to believe; once you work, you work. There's no rest, not even a ten-minute break." Wiggling your fingers inside his back pockets to press the cakes, he tenses up, and you happily laugh when he is caught off-guard. You both almost topple at how he stumbles a bit back; if it wasn't for him putting a hand against the monitor's desk.
"Don't play with me right now, Corazoncito/a," Miguel warned, and you only let out another hum for him to go on if he dared. And he did. Miguel, broad arms encase around your midsection and change the position by hoisting you up, twirling you, and seating you on the desk. "I told you so," he then frees an arm. Miguel's fingers grab your jaw and press a thumb to your lips. "Now get ready for me."
