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ln4madness · 1 day

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MY JEALOUS BOY - LN4

summary: y/n and lando visit a family friend of y/n’s who just so happens to be a boy

warnings: none

pairing: lando x fem!reader

You and Lando were sitting in your car. You were visiting the country you’re from and you decided to go visit as many people as you could.

You were sitting in your car with Lando, going to your family friends house. “So who are these people now?” Lando asked since you were visiting so many people he lost count of who everyone is. “They are our family friends, our moms were friends in college and now they’re one of our best friends.” You said as you pulled up to their house.

“Heyyyy! I missed you guys” You said as you got out of the car and gave f/m/n (friends moms name, idk how else to write it) a hug. “How are you y/n, tell us everything you’ve been doing in monaco!” she said. “Yeah i’ve been doing great, living with my boyfriend now, really missed home tho.” You said as Lando got out the car and stood next to you. “This is my boyfriend, Lando” You said. “Well aren’t you a handsome guy” f/m/n said as she hugged him. “Let’s go to the backyard terrace, everyone’s there” y/f/m said.

You went to the terrace and saw f/d/n (friends dads name). “Omg you’re so grown up since the last time i saw you.” He said as he hugged you. You let go of the hug and f/d/n turned to Lando to shake his hand. “This is Lando, my boyfriend.” You said as they shook each others hands. “F/d/n, nice to meet you.” f/d/n said.

You all were sitting down and eating when you realized that y/f (your friend) isn’t here. “Oh btw where is y/f?” You asked his parents. “Oh he’s gonna be here soon too, he had to work today.” f/m/n said.

You heard a car pull up to the house. “That must be f/n, go greet him, i’m sure he’s missed you as well.” F/m/n said to you. You got up to go meet your friend, and lando got up after you.

Way taller now, a mullet, a perm, your friend looked way different now than the last time you saw him. “Hey, it’s been a long time.” You said as you saw him get out of his car. “Yeah, hey, it’s so good to finally see you.” He said as he gave you a hug, which Lando didn’t really like, he would’ve preferred a handshake or a smile.

Hours later you were hanging out with f/n and Lando in the living room.

“You uhh wanna go on a drive? Like the old times?” F/n asked you. “Yeah, it’d be fun, god those were some times weren’t they?” You said.

As you got in the passenger seat of f/n’s car, leaving Lando to sit in the backseat, you noticed a bracelet hanging from the rearview mirror. “oh hey, you still have this here.” You said as you pointed to the bracelet. “Yeah, it’s been there forever” F/n said.

“Wanna go through the woods? Drift a little?” F/n asked you. “Obviously, that’s all we did back then, wasn’t it?” You replied as you smiled remembering the old times. “All you did huh?” Lando said as he looked at you and your friend.

“Yeah, every time i would come here we would go drive in the woods with this car. Can’t believe it’s still holding together” You said. “Well i’m planning on getting a new one soon, gonna be hard to say goodbye to this one” F/n said as he drove to the woods. “Awhhh, you’re getting rid of it? The memories in this car were amazing tho.” You said, which made Lando get even more jealous.

“What memories?” Lando asked, voice getting deeper and eyes getting narrower, you could tell he was getting jealous.

“This is the car in which i learned how to drive, Lando” You said as you turned back to look at him. “I thought you told me you learned how to drive with your sisters car.” Lando looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Technically i did, but this is the car i learned all the basics in.”

You were flying through the woods with the car, drifting through certain corners, windows down, music blasting through the speakers.

“I know i drive cars super fast for a living, but this is fucking crazy.” Lando said as you flew through another corner.

“Yeah well f/n has quite a skill of doing this.” You said. “Yeah, been doing this since i was like 15” F/n said. “Oh I’ll never forget the first time we ever went for one of these drives, nearly broke the car.” You said.

You all were now back at F/n’s house. You, Lando, F/n and his parents and sister all sitting in the living room, catching up, sharing stories, having fun. Lando getting super jealous seeing you talk to f/n, the way you laughed and smiled every time f/n mentioned some of the things you used to do together, talking about all the fun you had on vacations you took together with your families as kids.

You could see and feel Lando get more jealous throughout the whole evening.

“Well i think it’s time for us to head home now.” You said. “Make sure to visit us more, can’t wait to see you again.” F/m/n said.

You and Lando were in your car now, driving back to your house. His hand on your thigh, holding on to it like he’s about to drop you off a cliff if he lets go.

“Lando what’s going on?” You asked him, knowing well what’s going on.

“Was there ever something going on between you and f/n?” Lando asked, getting straight to the point. “What do you mean?” You replied. “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t know. You were talking with him, looking at him, like you are some kind of a married couple visiting your hometown.” Lando said. “There never was really anything between us Lando, except for a few times we’ve kissed” You said.

“YOU KISSED HIM?!” Lando was the tiniest bit away from yelling. “WHEN WE WERE KIDS LANDO, YEARS AND YEARS AGO.” You practically yelled at him. “I don’t like him, next time we visit this house i’m making sure he has to work even later.” Lando said.

You arrived home and immediately plopped down on the couch. “i’m so tired.” You said. “Go to sleep then, baby” Lando said. “No i don’t want to, not yet, come here.” You said. Lando went over to you and sat next to you, you leaned against his shoulder immediately and he put his arm around you.

“So you promise there was nothing ever going on between you two?” Lando asks. “Of course Lan, nothing was ever going on.” You said. “Okay okay, i love you baby.” Lando said as he kissed your forehead. “I love you too my jealous boy.” You said and giggled.

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small-z24 · 2 days

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One-Shot: A Poet's Discovery

Summary:

Azriel finds Y/N’s journal filled with heartfelt poetry about a mysterious man, sparking jealousy and curiosity. As he tries to uncover the identity of her muse, Cassian's playful teasing leads him to a surprising revelation that could change everything.

Word Count: 976

Warnings: None

Azriel prowled the halls of the House of Wind, shadows whispering around him. He had been tasked with delivering a message to Y/N, a priestess living in the library. Rescued by Rhysand and Azriel from a brutal attack on her church, Y/N had since found solace and purpose among the books and scrolls. As he approached her room, he noticed the door slightly ajar. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to knock, but the soft sound of rustling paper caught his attention.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked inside. Y/N’s room was a mess of papers and books, but one particular journal lay open on her desk, its pages filled with delicate handwriting. Azriel knew he shouldn’t invade her privacy, but the temptation was too strong. He stepped inside and picked up the journal.

His eyes skimmed over the lines of poetry, his heart pounding as he realized the words were filled with longing and admiration for someone. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, wondering who had captured Y/N’s heart so completely.

His eyes, dark as the night, hold secrets I wish to unravel. His touch, gentle yet strong, leaves me breathless with desire. In his presence, I am whole, yet shattered by the distance between us.

Azriel’s jaw tightened. Who was this man she wrote about? He continued reading, the poetry becoming more intense with each line.

Oh, how I long for his embrace, to feel his shadows wrap around me, to be lost in his world. He is my night, my stars, my everything.

Azriel’s mind raced. Shadows? Stars? Could it be... No, it couldn’t. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. It had to be someone else. But the jealousy gnawed at him, making his shadows swirl restlessly.

“What are you doing?” Cassian’s voice broke the silence, startling Azriel.

Azriel quickly shut the journal and turned to see Cassian leaning against the doorframe, a wide grin on his face. “Nothing,” Azriel muttered, trying to compose himself.

Cassian’s grin widened. “Nothing, huh? You look like you’ve just read something scandalous.”

Azriel glared at him, but Cassian’s teasing expression didn’t waver. “It’s none of your business.”

Cassian stepped into the room, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, but it is. You’re my brother, and seeing you all flustered is my favorite pastime. So, what did you find?”

Azriel sighed, knowing there was no escaping Cassian’s curiosity. “It’s Y/N’s journal. She’s written poetry about someone she’s clearly infatuated with.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “And you’re jealous because...?”

“I’m not jealous,” Azriel snapped, but the words lacked conviction.

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. “Sure, you’re not. Let me see.”

Azriel reluctantly handed over the journal, and Cassian began to read. As he reached the parts about the shadows and stars, his grin grew even wider. “Oh, this is gold. She’s talking about you, you idiot!”

Azriel frowned, feeling a flicker of hope. “What makes you so sure?”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Shadows, stars, night—who else fits that description? She’s smitten with you, and you’re too dense to see it.”

Azriel’s heart raced as the realization sank in. “You really think it’s me?”

Cassian laughed again, shaking his head. “Az, you’re supposed to be the smart one. Yes, it’s you. And now you have to do something about it.”

Azriel felt a mix of relief and panic. “But what if I’m wrong? What if she doesn’t feel that way?”

Cassian smirked, handing back the journal. “There’s only one way to find out. Talk to her. And maybe, just maybe, stop being so broody all the time.”

Azriel sighed, glancing down at the journal. “You make it sound so easy.”

Cassian shrugged, heading for the door. “It is. Now go, before I start writing poetry about how hopeless you are.”

Left alone in Y/N’s room, Azriel took a deep breath. Cassian was right. He needed to talk to her, to find out the truth. He couldn’t let jealousy and doubt control him.

Gathering his courage, he left the room and went in search of Y/N. He found her in the library, surrounded by books, her expression peaceful as she read. She looked up as he approached, a smile spreading across her face.

“Azriel,” she greeted him warmly. “What brings you here?”

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside her. “I found your journal,” he admitted, watching her expression closely.

Her eyes widened, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “You read it?”

He nodded, feeling his heart pound in his chest. “Yes. And I need to know... the poetry. Is it about me?”

Y/N’s blush deepened, but she met his gaze, her eyes filled with vulnerability. “Yes, Azriel. It’s about you.”

Relief and joy washed over him, and he couldn’t help but smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

She looked at him, her expression a mix of hope and uncertainty. “You were?”

He reached out, taking her hand in his. “Yes. Because I feel the same way, Y/N. I’ve just been too blind to see it.”

Her smile brightened, and she squeezed his hand. “Then we’re both idiots.”

Azriel laughed softly, leaning in to kiss her gently. “I can live with that.”

As they sat together in the library, surrounded by the quiet rustle of pages and the soft glow of lanterns, Azriel felt a sense of peace and happiness he hadn’t known in a long time. Cassian’s teasing might have been annoying, but it had led him to the truth. And for that, he was grateful.

And somewhere in the House of Wind, Cassian was probably writing his own poetry about how hopelessly romantic Azriel could be. But for now, Azriel didn’t care. He had found his light in the darkness, and that was all that mattered.

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ellebarnes90 · 2 days

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𖤐˚.𓂅٬ CIÚMES

warnings: ciúmes, possessivo, enzo sendo babaca e um tiquinho agressivo, birra

parte dois aqui

Enzo estava sem falar com você já fazia uma hora e tudo porque te ouviu elogiando seu amigo em uma ligação. Sabia que o moreno era ciumento, às vezes até demais, mas também sabia como resolver isso. Alguns beijinhos ali e aqui, chamego, a voz mansinha…era o suficiente para o coraçãozinho dele amolecer e ele ficar tranquilo, mas dessa vez foi diferente, não queria nem olhar na sua cara, você se inclinava para ele e ele se afastava, não aceitava o seu toque…ele estava realmente bravo.

— Vai mesmo ficar sem falar comigo? — perguntou um pouco triste, vendo que os olhos do namorado estavam totalmente focados na televisão do quarto

Ele não te respondeu e não te olhou, fazendo seu coração doer.

— Por favor, para com isso, para com esse ciúme besta e converse comigo. Lembra do que você me disse em um dos nossos primeiros encontros, hum? “Comunicação é uma das chaves para um bom relacionamento”. Foi o que você me disse, então por favor fala comigo

Você implorava, segurando o braço dele, o olhar dele estava sério e ainda assim não te olhou.

Enzo tinha acordado há algum tempo, foi quando te ouviu conversando no celular, nem penteou o cabelo ou trocou de roupa, apenas tinha escovado os dentes.

Os fios — agora um pouco mais curtos — estavam bagunçados e caindo sobre a testa dele, vestia o mesmo pijama que usou para dormir ontem, um conjunto que combinava com o seu. Ele tinha os braços cruzados, a mandíbula trincada e um olhar sério e duro.

E por um milagre ele falou com você.

— Você já se comunica o suficiente com o seu amigo, não tem por que você querer se comunicar comigo também — a voz dele era dura, grossa e séria

Você revirou os olhos, grunhindo frustrada com aquela teimosia dele. Na tentativa de amolecer o coração dele mais uma vez, você agarrou o corpo dele em um abraço resistindo a força que ele fazia para te afastar. Levou uma mão até o rosto dele e o virou para você, e com pressa deu um selinho nele, que por incrível que pareça foi correspondido.

— Para com isso, Enzo. Pelo amor de deus, ele é só um amigo, você é o meu namorado. Consegue perceber a diferença

— Amigo? Você chama aquilo de amizade? Chamando ele de gostoso? Ia gostar se eu dissesse isso pra alguma amiga minha?

— Argh, foi um elogio porra. Para de ser ciumento desse jeito, e para a sua informação ele tava se arrumando para encontrar um cara, entendeu? UM CARA

Foi a vez dele revirar os olhos.

— Ah com certeza — debochou

Irritada você o soltou, saindo da cama e indo para a cozinha beber água. Você escutou os passos dele se aproximando cada vez mais até ver a silhueta dele parada no batente da porta.

— Você faz a merda e depois foge né? — com os braços cruzados ele dizia, cuspindo as palavras a você

— Merda? — largou o copo, se virando para o olhar — Desculpa, mas que merda eu fiz? Eu não fiz nada, você que é um surtado que sente ciúmes até dos próprios amigos comigo

O olhar dele ficou mais sombrio, dando passos firmes até você. Você se assustou quando ele te agarrou, apertando sua mandíbula com força, te forçando a olhar para ele. Sabia que Enzo era ciumento, ele sempre foi, mas com o tempo ele foi ficando mais, cada vez mais possessivo e chegava a ser um pouco agressivo com você quando chegava ao limite.

Você não precisava fazer nada demais para irritá-lo, só de conversar demais ou rir demais para outra pessoa do mesmo sexo que ele já era o suficiente, desde quando eram amigos ele era assim, mas era uma coisa bem mais tranquila comparado a hoje em dia.

— Você tem que pôr essa cabecinha sua pra funcionar e entender que você é minha! — ele dizia olhando no fundo dos seus olhos — E eu não quero a porra da minha mulher elogiando outros homens, não importa se é gay, amigo ou casado, eu não quero ver você fazendo isso de novo, entendeu?

Ainda em choque, seu corpo não formulou uma resposta.

— Você entendeu!? — perguntou de novo, com a voz mais elevada e te trazendo mais para ele

— Tá, eu entendi!

— Ótimo — te soltou enfim, mas não antes de te beijar

Quando o uruguaio voltou para o quarto e você também, ele já estava mais tranquilo, te fez se deitar com a cabeça no peito dele, te fez cafuné, carinho e sua voz estava mais suave e calma, como normalmente era.

Ele era um anjo na terra quando não sentia ciúmes e até mesmo quando sentia, a birra dele não durava muito, mas dessa vez foi diferente. Então, depois de algum tempo pediu para que quando ele sentisse ciúmes de novo — por que ele com certeza sentiria — não fosse tão duro com ela ou agressivo, já que isso a magoava.

Por estar mais calmo ele conseguiu ver com mais clareza o jeito que agiu, te pediu desculpas, perdão, te beijou e prometeu que jamais iria ser tão mau com você novamente.

🐇 não revisado🐇

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klovzk4 · 2 days

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Jealous Miguel O’hara

A/N: This is really short and not proofread 🙏🏻

established relationship, rushed, jealousy (obviously), kinda smut?, possessive miguel and lmk if i missed anything

Jealous Miguel x afab reader

Jealous Miguel who didn’t want you joining the spider society at first because he didn’t want you getting hurt going on missions.

Jealous Miguel who ended up saying yes after you talked him into it, still not letting you go on a lot of missions.

Jealous Miguel who hadn’t seen you around lately since you joined the spider society.

Jealous Miguel who noticed how close you and another Peter parker got.

Jealous Miguel who ended up locking you in his office with him when you were supposed to go on a mission with another Peter parker.

Jealous Miguel who ended up showing you how much he loved you, leaving your legs wobbly for the next few days…

Jealous Miguel who also kicked the other Peter parker out of the spider society :3

#miguel o’hara x reader #jealousmiguelohara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #jealousy

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yanderetalk · 2 days

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Writing 3D Characters + Narcissistic Characters

I’ll lead with the example of narcissistic yanderes. These fellas are real interesting ones.

Oftentimes they’re made to be arrogant, which—is reasonable, given the definition of a narcissist is a person who has an inflated sense of self importance.

However, I said narcissistic. Meaning, relating to a narcissist, but not quite one. Which, gives us a reasonable amount of wiggle room that allows for a good character.

“Arrogant,” as a personality trait isn’t interesting. Oftentimes, just picking out one personality trait and branching off of that to create a character isn’t a good idea, because that’s how you end up with stereotypes.

See, most people think like this:

narcissistic -> arrogant -> selfish -> mean.

Or something along the lines of that. Then they give the character a role that suits those traits. In this situation, the most common one would be “rich white boy.” A bit crude, yes, but it’s the honest truth. That’s how people connect the dots in their head.

Characters shouldn’t be like that. Why? Because people themselves are hypocritical. We’re contradictory, in the most horrible and wonderful ways.

A character being narcissistic doesn’t mean that it makes them unable to make friends, or interact. A narcissist doesn’t have to be rude.

You can think that your thought process, your interests, your interpretations of things are superior to others, while still being able to function like an ordinary human being—on the outside.

You can have friends. You can be amused by them, you can like them, you can have a good time with them—but that doesn’t mean you care about them.

It’s easy to separate yourself from everyone else. Scarily so.

In a story, a character like that would start to crumble. They’d begin to spiral, and just wouldn’t be able to claw their way back out.

See? Conflict. Normalcy, that eventually deteriorates into something less sane. But for that deterioration to happen, there has to be a catalyst.

What if, that narcissistic character we’ve been hypothetically discussing this entire time, wants a partner? An equal? Just one person, who matches their “superior” intellect or thought process. Or, really, just someone similar to them.

What if they meet that someone?

But what if things don’t work out? What if that someone, goes off with another person instead?

That’s your catalyst. Like dropping Mentos into an active volcano.

Intriguing, isn’t it?

I think that’s a good chunk of my thoughts on this matter. If you have any thoughts or questions, let me know.

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naughtybg3confessions · 1 day

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I need Halsin to hold me down and lick my cunt until I cum and then slide into me while I'm still shaking and fuck me til I cry and call me his good little bitch and fill me up with his seed.

Make me walk around without any panties so it drips down my leg, he slides a hand up my skirt and fingers it back into me no matter where we are.

Maybe some rando tries to get handsy thinking I'm for anyone to use because I'm such a cumdumb cockslut but my Daddy just growls and bends me over and claims me in front of everyone, snarling and snapping like a feral beast at anyone who gets too close.

#dirty confessions #halsin silverbough #jealousy #daddy/mommy kink #cw

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misscannibalprincess · 2 days

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I'm not just afraid that you might have sex with another girl.

I'm afraid she'll make you laugh better than I do.

I'm afraid you'll touch her the way you touch me.

I'm afraid you'll tell her all the sweet thing you've said to me.

I'm afraid you won't even remember my name in the moment she hold your hand.

Of course, I'm terrified by the thought of you going to bed with her, but also, I'm afraid she'll might make you feel more, she might mean more to you. That's why I have this constantly urge to be enough, to be perfect, the better girl you've ever met. I need to know there is no other girl on your mind. I'll always crave to be your whole world...

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bengals-barnesbabe · 11 hours

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You're My Mission

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Black!FemReader

Warnings: smut, Bucky Barnes (I said what I said), violence, jealousy, (this was written during quarantine).

Word Count: 1.3k

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

“It’s a simple extraction, find the target, distract, disable and get them out unharmed.” Only Tony Stark would think it was that easy.

“Who’s the target?” Bucky asks.

“We have to assume they aren’t working alone, so it’ll be all of us plus a Strike team on clean up.” The genius continued.

“Who’s the target, Stark?” Bucky asks again. He just got in from a 3 day mission in the jungle where he sweated in places he’d rather not describe. The second he walked onto the tarmac he was rushed into a briefing for a ‘last minute’ mission that was apparently so urgent they needed all the help they could get.

“I’ll be in the sky disabling all communication, Cap handles their partner working on the outside, Barnes’ job is distraction along with backup and Widow will engage with the target.”

“Who’s the target?” The roughness of his voice urging them to get this over with, but no one speaks up. He’s had his head down the entire time so when he finally looks up no one is watching him. In fact they’re avoiding his glance.

“We leave for Saint Petersburg in 15, grab what you need and load up.” Stark finishes but no one moves. There’s only one person, one woman he can think of that requires this much skill and muscle to capture. After his question goes unanswered for the third time, there’s no doubt in his mind that they’re going after her after 4 years on the run. On the run from him.

Bucky turns his chair to face his longtime friend. “Who’s the target Steve?” The man couldn’t lie to him to save his life, they’d known each other for too long and his spy skills just amplified it.

The blonde sighs then looks back at his friend. “You know.”

Bucky looks over at Natasha and her silence agrees with him. “I’m going in.” Then he walks out.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You spotted him, your target. It wasn’t hard, he was surrounded by half of the restaurant.

None of them registered as a threat, so the mission was easy. Your partner had already stolen the files you needed, all that was left was the head.

You threw back the rest of your liquor and stood up brushing your dress. It was very uncomfortable, but you felt great in it. You played the part of seductress well, your figure doing most of the work and the amount of cleavage you’d shown without needing supporting help. But you also hated the demeaning part, but it’s part of the mission. And you always finish the mission.

You flashed a determined look and started strutting towards the man, but a bulky figure steps in your way.

“You know drinking on the job is frowned upon.”

The one time you think you’re alone.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

The Winter Soldier always loved the chase and you loved to be chased, when you worked for the same side. Hydra’s secret weapon and the Red Room’s second best widow. It was no secret that Natalia would always be Dreykov’s favorite but when she left him you stepped up in ways she never could.

You were a team, you and the soldat, he was your everything until one day he left and never came back. Then next time you saw him was when you were posing as a member of SHIELD, still carrying out orders from your superiors and collecting as much information on the Avengers as possible. You never expected to find him there, sitting- smiling with others, with her. His hair seemed the same length, but he glowed with independence.

So just like you infiltrated the agency you worked yourself back into his life. You fell for him and he fell even harder, but after a year it was your turn to leave and never come back.

When she dismantled the only home you knew and exposed you to the truth, you ran. You didn’t want to work for any man, unless the pay was worth it. So the KGB was out, SHIELD not an option, MI6 not your speed, so the only thing left was to go private and boy was it fun. You worked for who you wanted, with who you wanted, when and for as much money as you wanted; everyone knew who you were and didn’t hesitate to make the call, you were that good.

I didn’t take long to figure out that your favorite soldier was after you, how could it when he traveled with heroes in spandex and billionaires in giant machines. But just like in the Red Room, you were always at least one step ahead of him. You even faked your death once or twice because it was fun to watch him squirm. Then he stopped, a part of you mourned the cat and mouse dance but all good things must come to an end. You made yourself a ghost. Until now.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“I ain’t a lightweight.” It’d been so long since you stepped on their soil that the accent needed a bit of work.

“Oh you’re a New Yorker now? Baby if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked.” His left hand caresses your waist and his right leads you to the dance floor. One heavier than the other, but both madly familiar with your body.

“James I have a job to do, let me go.” His grip on you caused the Russian to seep out.

“Детка, не сопротивляйся.” (Baby don’t struggle.)

“Отпустите!” (Let me go!)

He held your hips tighter, and his lips dipped to your ear. “Я думаю, твой парень ушел.” (I think your guy is gone.)

You yanked your head away from the soldier and looked back at your target. But instead you found The Black Widow sipping on a martini.

She waved and sent a wink in your direction. It was a trap.

“Дамиан входи.” You said into your ear piece. You wanted to sound anxious but the words bled annoyance. It was his fault, you were hired to pair up for this. They needed a distraction and someone to pull the trigger, but this was Damian’s mission and he’s always been sloppy.

(Damian, come in.)

In response, ‘highway to hell’ bursted through in full volume. You yanked it out then turned towards the soldier.

“Что ты хочешь?” (What do you want?)

“For you to come home, любовь.” He took a step forward and you took one back. (Love.)

“Not with you, you chose your place and I have mine. Just leave me alone.” You pushed past him, only for him to grab you again.

“Stop manhandling me.” You huffed.

“Why, you used to love it?” He smirked. “The way you moaned with my lips on your neck constantly marking you as mine. The way you begged for me to fuck you. I always loved the way you begged for my cock.” Your legs tremble and panties dampen, you hated the way your body betrayed you against his words.

“Awww it’s still there. Tell me do you miss the way I filled you up? The way I had you shaking just from my fingers. Or did you like me more when my tongue was deep in your pussy? You always tasted so damn sweet, you always made me want more. Remember we could go for hours without stopping. You were such a good little slut for daddy.”

Your knees locked as his voice filled with lust clouding your vision. You grabbed onto his muscular body. You hated to admit it, but you needed him.

“But you are on your own path now, so I guess we won’t be having that little reunion.” He stepped out of your grasp and turned to leave.

“Подождите!” He paused and a smirk grew on his stubbled face. (Wait!)

“Ты мне нужен, Джеймс.” He let out a dark chuckle, you could feel your arousal build up daring to leak down your thighs. (I need you, James.)

“я знал, что ты скучал по мне.”

(I knew you missed me.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

like, comment and reblog for more :)

taglist is open!

#black reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #black widow!reader #bengals barnesbabe #marvel mcu #mcu fic #alternate universe #jealousy

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crilbyte · 24 hours

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Basically, I'm workshopping a story where the reader is Lucifer's wife, and Alastor tried to use her to make the king jealous. So he retaliates by showing Alastor just who it is she belongs to. But Alastor doesn't take too highly to that and decides to return the favor.

So I need to gauge where you guys would most like the readers mindset. Fully willing to help tournament Alastor, passive but not mind much, care for Alastor and feel bad but still love only Luci, or love both Luci and Alastor despite being married to Luci.

Taglist: @shadowqueen1318 @liveontelevision @honestlyshamelesskid @bad-and-drawn-that-way @lonelynmisunderstood @shcrou-sei @l0liamk @tasha-1994 @cosmiccandydreamer @memoire-du-ciel @martinys-world @itsavicf @looking1016

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discretocincel · 2 days

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(Still) Craving your kiss

I managed another 2k words for today's prompt, take that writer's block!

I went with 'Pining' for today's prompt for RadioApple Week 2024. Check it out on AO3!

Ever since the number of residents in the Hazbin Hotel reached the double digits, they had to be divided for Charlie’s activities towards redemption, with a different member of the staff looking after smaller groups while Charlie herself checked on them at short intervals, always hastily but never unkindly nor thoughtlessly. After that dynamic proved to work, and following Alastor’s suggestions, the groups were made a permanent feature of the hotel, and the staff had their duties expanded, which suited Lucifer just fine. They adopted the official title of counselors, and after enough time had passed, Vaggie, Husk, Alastor, Lucifer and even Angel Dust had around twenty residents each, and the numbers only seemed to be going up. There was the occasional departure of a member, either because they found the exercises too difficult or boring, or some other reason that they would keep private, but those could be counted on the claws of one hand. After the news of Sir Pentious’ redemption spread, the exterminations were officially suspended, and Heaven started regularly meeting with Charlie, those who once opposed the hotel decided to keep quiet, and the ones who used to mock it liked to pretend they never did. Hell was still chaotic and dangerous, the sky was still red, and the stars couldn’t be seen, but Lucifer found the air just a little bit lighter, the smell the tiniest bit sweeter, and the covers of his bed not nearly as absorptive as they had become in the last couple of years.

And it was all thanks to his little girl. Lucifer was truly proud of her. She had grown a lot when he wasn’t looking, which was why he strived to keep his eyes on her as much as he could nowadays. She was a bundle of energy, so it shouldn’t have been as difficult as it felt at times, but they were all busy with the success of the hotel. His heart always grew in size when he got to see her, no matter the reason.

When she found him in the kitchen pouring himself his second mug of hot chocolate of the day, he went with one less sugar cube than usual, in consideration for what her smile did to him. After exchanging greetings and some innocuous small talk, they both took a seat with their beverages in hand—coffee for her, with cream and sugar.

“Dad, could I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course, Char-Char!” he replied, a little bit too loudly, buzzling with excitement. “Whatever you need, you just got to ask!”

“Could one sinner from Alastor’s group switch to yours?”

Lucifer frowned. While it was to be expected to have newcomers request a change from their groups in their first couple of days at the hotel, whether that was because of animosity with other members or simply being in a different wavelength from their counselor, there hadn’t been any new residents integrating Alastor’s group in the last month or so. It was a bit late for such a request. That pointed to a different sort of problem, one that could easily escalate.

“It’s fine by me, sweetheart, but may I ask why they requested a change?”

“Actually, they didn’t,” Charlie admitted with a grimace. “Alastor did, but he didn’t give me a reason. He told me that the sinner would fit better with Angel Dust or Husk, but since your group is currently the only one with an odd number, I figured this would be a good fix. What do you think?”

“Well… you know Alastor always has a reason for his suggestions, Charlie, but if you believe he’ll be fine with me, and if the sinner doesn’t mind, then that’s okay.”

“We can always switch him to a different group later!”

Lucifer wasn’t sure if having one sinner jumping between groups was sensible, but he was curious about the one sinner Alastor wanted out of his group and not the hotel. So, he said yes. His daughter caught him in a hug so warm and full of love that it convinced him it would all be worth it, no matter what.

Not five hours later, his group met as usual, rearranging the chairs in the room into a circle without him having to tell them.

The sinner that Alastor had removed from his group was a young guy. Not too tall, with leaves for hair in shades of orange, red, brown and yellow. His eyes were green, with a hopeful orange tinted gleam, and his skin was the rich warm color of cherry wood, with a similar texture. Fitting, considering the guy’s name.

As was his habit, Lucifer made up an excuse to leave the room and allow the sinners to interact without him for a little while, to satisfy some of their curiosity so the lesson would go smoothly. He didn’t think any of them had realized that he never went far, always ready to intervene in case it was necessary. In the four months he’d been doing it, however, he rarely had to step in earlier than planned.

He disguised himself as an ant —he’d turned into a cockroach once, and only once. He ran into Niffty and decided that never again— and went back inside just as the newcomer was introducing himself.

“Hi, my name is Carion Torchwood, and I’ve been in hell for thirteen years.”

“Hello, Carion!” Jellyfer, one of the nicer residents replied, only to be cut off from the rest of her sentence by the person sitting next to her.

“How was the Radio Demon as a counselor?”

“Does anyone in his group actually dare to speak their minds? I’d be terrified!” another one added, and it seemed like most of the sinners in the room agreed with him. Even Jellyfer seemed all too happy to forgo her good manners and leaned forward in anticipation to hear what Carion had to say.

“No, no, he’s actually really good!”

The first sinner to interrupt sneered in disbelief. He quickly asked: “Then why are you here and not there?”

Carion recoiled in his chair, wrapping his own arms around himself, perhaps to protect himself, or to make himself physically smaller. It was hard to tell; Lucifer didn’t know him well yet. He hadn’t gotten a chance to really look into his soul.

“I’m serious,” the sinner insisted, expression more solemn and voice more subdued. “He’s witty and a bit mocking, but he’s also very gentle and helpful.” Slowly, after he seemed to give himself silent encouragement, he returned to his initial position in his chair, leaning forward and posing only his tiptoes on the floor, hands on his knees. The gleam in his green eyes also came back with a vengeance. “I’m sure he’s as powerful as the rumors say, because no one becomes an overlord without the power to back it up, but he doesn’t go around intimidating us.” His expression, which until then had been one of fierce determination, softened into something more tender. “He listens and makes suggestions, so we come up with answers to our problems by ourselves, and he always is able to dissipate any tensions that arise in between members with a joke.” He chuckled. “He’s great, really.”

Oh.

Now Lucifer understood. He understood everything.

He made a show of returning to himself outside before officially reentering, then cleared his voice, instantly attracting all eyes in the room towards him. It was easy to tell which ones had noticed his presence beforehand and which ones hadn’t, Carion belonging to that second group. The subtle darkening of his cheeks suggested he was flustered, but it was hard to tell with the texture of his skin. Lucifer gifted him an appeasing smile, hoping to make him feel welcomed. A part of him was sympathetic—he certainly could relate, to a degree. He pushed down the other, more vicious part of himself that wanted to do harm. He couldn’t possibly blame the sinner for having impeccable taste.

“For today’s session, I was thinking we could focus on the dangers of idolatry. Now, I know you all can tell the dangers of blindly following without questioning, for ultimately, it is impossible to learn the true intentions of the person you’re following. So that’s not the lesson I want you all to learn. I’d like to focus on the downside of idolatry, for the one being idolized. You see, audiences tend to possess this entitlement where they believe that public figures belong to the public. They demand things that were never offered, convinced of the sincerity of their own feelings, born of assumptions and surface level knowledge.”

He smiled, breathing a little easier when no one questioned the morals about idolizing angels and his Father. He was not ready for that conversation. But when it came to sinners following other sinners and organizations, he had quite the long rant prepared. By the time he was done, it seemed obvious that more than one sinner had taken the words to heart, if their sheepish and apologetic expressions were to be believed. He still had them pair up and play a few games, but nothing too emotionally taxing. He concluded the session with enough time to spare before dinner and watched them depart sporting a satisfied smile on his face.

He kept it there all the way until he was ready for bed, only for it to tinge with nervousness once his roommate appeared, still wearing his coat and shoes. Lucifer greeted him with what he hoped was his normal cheerfulness, but hurried to open the book he kept in his nightstand, to appear busy.

“I received an interesting letter today,” Alastor said, going to sit by Lucifer’s side, crossing his legs at the ankles and resting one hand in the middle of the bed, trapping Lucifer under him.

Lucifer hummed, arching his eyebrows in curiosity and redirecting his gaze towards the Radio Demon to show that he had his attention. He kept the book open in his lap, even though he had simply opened a random page in the middle.

“From one Carion Torchwood,” the sinner added, narrowing his eyes. “Sound familiar?”

“Perhaps…”

It was Alastor’s turn to hum, his tone one of suspicion, as he tilted his head to one side at an awkward angle.

“What did the letter say?” Lucifer asked.

“It was an apology.”

“Oh? What did he need to apologize for?”

“I had Niffty make some queries, so I heard all about your last lesson.”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but he did his best to keep his expression one of casual amusement.

“Is that so? Well? What did you think? I’ve heard nothing but the best about your performance so far, so if you have any advice—”

His first impression of the Radio Demon had been that of a thief. The sinner shamelessly had attempted to steal his daughter, he might have attempted to steal his power, and then he even managed to steal his heart. Effortlessly, as he buried his hands in Lucifer’s curls and joined their lips in an enthusiastic dance of tongues and teeth, scraping lightly and mixing their blood inside their mouths, once again he succeeded in stealing Lucifer’s breath away. Yes, Alastor was a thief. He so easily stole whatever caught his eye that he even went around stealing other people’s hearts without trying.

He'd considered, for less than a second, telling Charlie that Carion truly would be a better fit within Angel’s group. He quickly discarded the thought, for a myriad of reasons, some far more selfish than others, including the need to keep an eye on the offender. But the loudest argument inside his mind had been, how could he judge anyone for falling just like he had?

“Let me know if he ever bothers you,” Lucifer mumbled, not wanting to stop touching the opposite lips long enough to speak properly. One of his hands, which had at some point come to rest on the sinner’s hips, slid slowly towards one of his favorite of his lover’s furry appendages. “As his counselor, it is my duty to guide him towards redemption, and that includes correcting his mistakes.”

“Does that include punishing said mistakes, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer grinned. “I believe that depends on the severity of the mistake, don’t you think?”

Alastor chuckled, his breath tickling Lucifer’s face even as he leaned back slightly. After he straightened his back and licked his lips, smearing a bit of golden in one corner, he gifted Lucifer one of his rarer, coy little smiles, one that was higher on one side of his face than the other, and he lightly shook his head.

“I will let you know, but I believe your lesson today will be enough to correct his behavior. Thank you.”

Lucifer reached out to grab the hand that wasn’t supporting the deer’s weight, intertwining their fingers and squeezing once in a wordless message.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, sincerely. He had fun imparting knowledge, and he wouldn’t mind doing it again. Albeit he’d preferred it if no other sinners went around falling for what was his, even if they didn’t know it.

Outside, the sky was engulfed in darkness. There wasn’t a hint of red, but there were no stars either. He’d made his peace with that a long time ago, but every once in a while, the absence of light still weighted heavy on his heart.

He no longer had a heart bringing him down. It had been stolen away by the demon currently sitting on his bed, even though nowadays he wouldn’t hesitate before handing it to him, no matter who was watching.

Stars, he wanted at least someone to be watching.

#fanfic #ao3 #hazbin hotel #radioapple #appleradio #lucifer morningstar #alastor #jealousy #pining #radioapple week

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celiavonhinten · 6 months

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#the muppets #wonka 2023 #gonzo #jealousy

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a-b-riddle · 1 month

Text

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

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aeplern · 8 months

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YOUR BOYFRIEND SIMON RILEY

olderboyfriend!simon who waits for you in the parking lot of your campus, waiting for your last university class to end. a wide grin on his face as you enter his car, he leans in and kisses your forehead. “you alright, kid?”

olderboyfriend!simon who drives you back to his place, his large hand on your thigh as he listens to you explain about your day. “and then my friend dylan was like-“ he cut you off almost immediately, “wait, so is dylan a girl…or?” - “dylan is a guy, obviously. back to what i was saying.”

olderboyfriend!simon who seems to tune out the sound of your voice, his mind wandering elsewhere…thinking about this dylan guy. ‘pfft, i shouldn’t get myself worked up over this guy.’ he thought.

olderboyfriend!simon who heads up to his apartment with you, your hand in his as he unlocks the door. “so... tell me about this dylan guy, you've never mentioned him before.” — “oh— well, he's just a friend from class, nothing much.”

olderboyfriend!simon “hopefully.” he would mumble, a slightly stern expression on his face as he looked down at you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “tell me about your day, without dylan!” you smirked, looking up at your boyfriend who was getting himself worked up over a younger boy. you then wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him softly on the lips. “i can't believe you're jealous of dylan.” — “who said i was jealous hm?” he smirked.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #female reader #fluff #happy ending #cod mwii #cod smut #simon riley smut #jealousy

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selineram3421 · 5 months

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здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanons

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #gn reader #the radio demon #alastor x reader #headcanons #alastor headcanons #jealousy #implied murder #implied torture #gore?#eyeballs #this turned out more like a fic #he do want all your attention tho

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justivik · 1 month

Text

yandere! biker headcanons.

english isn't my first language

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker who noticed your presence at the traffic light, saw you calmly shaking your head while your lips chanted the lyrics of a song and your fingers played with the steering wheel.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker instantly felt a crush on you.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker who followed you to your destination after the red light turned green, no one has ever made him feel this way.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker that he realized that you don't live that far away from him. While you live in some apartments, he lives in a nice house. From there he started his plan to get into your life and be someone important to you, to get you out of your apartment (and out of the world) to make you much happier and safer!

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker one day he showed up in front of your apartment as a new neighbor in the area, his beauty hypnotized you and he knew it perfectly well. You invited him to eat something inside your place (you fell in the trap) and had a warm conversation.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker who gradually becomes one of your closest friends.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker His obsession grows more and more every day, watching you and following you everywhere. If you met him somewhere he would excuse himself as a ''simple coincidence''.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“What a nice coincidence! You know… reading and stuff” he took a random book.

“I didn't know you liked grotesque erotic reading”

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker who invites you for late night rides on his motorcycle around town. A movie date where you both eat ice cream and end up dancing in an alley with a pretty nice boy band (he was jealous that the lead singer made you laugh).

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker as the months passed and the two of you fell more and more in love. He decided to take the decision to ask you out.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker who was very happy to get a yes as an answer (you don't want to know what would have happened to both of you if you had said no). That same night you two had your first kiss as an official couple, you don't know how happy he was that night.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker who calls you by cute nicknames

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker I invite you to leave your apartment so that you can live in his house with all the desired amenities.

๋࣭ ⭑ yandere! biker who is excited about the new sweet (and possessive) life.

“You're mine, don't forget that. You promised”

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things.

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax.

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration.

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers.

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler.

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words.

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers! How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?"

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!"

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling.

"I could do this all day, princesa. "

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure.

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit.

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive.

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time.

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far.

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him.

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar.

"You okay?"

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you. "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all."

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two.

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand.

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over.

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you.

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass.

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder.

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?"

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink.

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar.

He stretches out his hand, and you take it.

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words.

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck.

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do.

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him.

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you.

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer.

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in.

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness.

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him.

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension.

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip.

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck.

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders.

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out.

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper.

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile.

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face.

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more.

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words.

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is.

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate all your needs.

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order.

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk.

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -"

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains.

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary.

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-"

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious .

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body.

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something.

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up.

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?"

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression is steady, just as unreadable.

"Do you want to?"

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over.

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me."

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust.

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod.

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man.

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper.

"Fuck, Miguel."

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot.

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares.

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans.

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters.

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm.

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?"

You nod frantically with a stifled sob.

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please."

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?"

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks.

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers.

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath.

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought.

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy.

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum.

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago.

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process.

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?"

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles.

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa."

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