Yes Yes Yes!!! - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
Omg i just saw ur drabble post and i was wondering if you would wanna do a ler miguel lee lyla fic? Maybe he installs a program where if he taps on his screens in a certain way it can make her feel all tickly :3 if that doesnt interest you though no worries and i hope you get some other inspiring prompts!! Have a good one!
-nep
Annoyance Failsafe
A/N: OMG IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK!! Also can I say how fun this this idea is?? I didn’t even consider lee!Lyla! I’m excited to take this on! Thanks for being my first prompt back! Summary is above basically!
———
“Can you stop playing that for one second?”
“Playing what?” The tiny warm hologram of a woman taunted, fiddling with her phone. Lyla was on round three of her song, smirking up at the disgruntled scowl of Miguel.
“You’re doing it on purpose now.” He said, mindlessly swatting her like a bug on his shoulder. His hand phased through her harmlessly. “You know I need to focus.”
He gestured to the report he was typing out, something about another Doc Ock, accompanied with a multiverse map. “Another anomaly and I’m not even close to pinpointing his universe location.”
“Sucks to be you, then.”
Miguel inhaled sharply, “You know, I built you for this kinda stuff, right? But no, now you’re just being annoying, and I don’t know why.”
“Hey!” Lyla stood up. She glitched to his other shoulder. “From what I remember, you programmed this sass in me, and this outfit, and my annoying-ness. So ultimately, this is just the consequences of your actions, Miggy.”
Miguel scoffed at that.
Lyla only took it as ammo. She huffed, swiping open a tablet and tapping a few buttons on the blue screen.
The speakers in the room squeaked, then blasted the music from before:
“♫ AH AH BARBIE YOU’RE SO FINE! YOU’RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND! ♫”
All muscle in his body tensed. Miguel remained frozen, slowly craning his neck over. Lyla just sat there, a shit eating grin spread across her staticky appearance. She turned up the volume.
“♫ JUMP INTO THE DRIVER’S SEAT AND PUT IT INTO SPEED DRIVE! ♫”
Miguel didn’t budge, glaring daggers. “You’re pushing it.”
“What’re you gonna do? Unplug me?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“You’re no fun!”
“Lyla, shut it off. Please.”
“Sorry,” she was bopping her head to the beat, “can’t hear you over my amazing music taste.”
“Lyla!” The man bared his fangs. She only giggled. “Easy, tiger! Ok, fine.”
“♫ AH AH BARBIE YOU’RE SO FINE! YOU’RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND! ♫”
“I said ‘off,’ not quieter.”
Lyla shrugged, glitching over to sit at the motherboard. “I couldn’t hear you.”
The older man could have thrown his chair into her little smug 7 inch tall body. He could’ve raked his claws through the motherboard, taking up keys and wires and probably ruining his hard work in a blind rage. Hell, he could’ve stormed off like a big baby.
But no. He held his tongue.
Lyla’s smile faded when Miguel turned to a new screen. “Ohhh come on, Mig, I was being fun.”
He didn’t pay mind, mumbling as his hands worked tirelessly with some coding.
“You know I can overwrite that, right?”
Miguel hummed doubtfully, sliding the code into another window.
“Dude, silent treatment from you doesn’t work on me anymore.”
His eyes darted between functions and numbers, focusing on an error he made in the input. “Damn.”
“Are you trying to put me to sleep again? You can’t, like, literally can’t.”
Miguel seemed to fix the error, exporting it into yet again another window. His hand reached towards another file: Lyla.
“Hey. I dunno what you’re attaching to me but I can reject it.” Lyla tapped a button on her phone. All it gave her was a giant ERROR. “Oh come on!”
A loading bar swiped through swimmingly on Miguel’s screen. Up came a “ATTACHMENT COMPLETE” window.
Lyla stood up. She may have not been programmed with fear but this was pretty close. “I know you wouldn’t get rid of me.”
“And I won’t,” Miguel finally spoke, clearing out all the extra windows he had up. His eyes were stuck on one. His hands pinched it so it would maximize. “You just need a failsafe.”
“Why? You installed like six of them so I don’t corrupt.”
“I’m talking about an annoyance failsafe, not a corruption one.” O’Hara’s tone remained cool and to the point, maybe a bit too cold. But Lyla, Lyla saw something in his eyes. She loaded various facial expression scans through her system. All that came up was mischief. Lyla giggled, taking her heart-shaped glasses off. “You’re trying to act scary. It’s not working. You’re gonna get me back, aren’t ya?”
Miguel had formed the window in his hands, molding it into a sphere, softball size. “You know that update you put in my suit for April Fool’s?”
“Oh, this one?”
Miguel jolted and clutched his sides. A buzz of electric tingles ran through his suit, sending tickly sensations to his torso for a second. He didn’t buckle, but let Lyla get her dose of giggles out.. “That one… yes.”
“Y-Yohohou could use a tickle belt on you, and now you have one,” Lyla tittered.
The older man sighed, regaining his composure. He crept a little closer, about a few feet away from Lyla, playing with the digital ball in his hand.
“That gave me an idea. Because, well, in my opinion…”
He wiggled an index finger into the ball for just a few seconds.
An AI is not programmed to feel, at least not at first. Someone must input the proper code and information if an AI were to emote like a human. Miguel had given her a great deal of emotions to learn and replicate, but never had she felt.
So imagine Lyla’s surprise when she felt a tingly electrical surge go through her stomach. She dropped her holographic phone and yelped.
“…you could use one too.”
“MIGUEL?!”
The spider society leader had never heard Lyla sound so surprised. He raised his eyebrows, and wiggled again.
“Wh-h-hehe!” Lyla had been programmed to laugh and find humor, but this, this she had no control over. Her programming kept short circuiting to a laughing sequence. “Wahahahait! Mihiguel ahahare you serious?!”
“You know how serious I am.” Not anymore. Lyla picked up his small smirk, admittedly making her giggle more. This she couldn’t have predicted. Not at all.
“Now, what I’m curious about is if your AI system has assigned… sensitive spots to you, when I attached the annoyance failsafe.” Miguel readjusted the ball in his hand, scritching the side of it haphazardly. “So we need to do some tests now, okay?”
Lyla’s display glitched out. Her laughter doubled in volume as she glitched to different spots around the motherboard. “Mihihiggy yohohoHOU AhARE CRAhahazy!!”
“I don’t know about that,” he huffed out a half-assed chuckle, adjusting his gaze at her, “but you’re laughing more. Very interesting.”
Lyla replicated a feeling she hadn’t used in her system often: embarrassment. Or was it a fluster? It was hard to pinpoint the proper definition when she felt not just one tickly sensation on her side, but two. Miguel had changed his hold so he could tickle with both index fingers. “MIGUEL OKAhAY Okay I get it!! NOHOhoho more loud music!!!”
“No, I don’t think you do.” A tinge of playfulness flew from his lips. “I’ve dealt with enough of your shenanigans. You don’t learn, even though that’s what an artificial intelligence is supposed to do.”
“THAHA-“ Lyla hiccuped, glitching, “THahahat’s because you l-lihihIKE IT!”
Miguel treated her fact as a lie, rolling his eyes. “You think you know everything?”
“YES!”
“Really?”
Lyla nodded, attempting to swat at her tingling ribs.
“Then maybe you know where you’re most sensitive.” Miguel returned to holding the ball, rolling it from one hand to the other. Its blue pixels trailed back and forth.
Lyla wasn’t sure if she ever panted, but that sequence was running now. She collapsed to the “floor” of her hologram. “I-Ihi haven’t had time to scan th-the new data.”
“You got time now.” O’Hara said, matter-of-factly. “But of course, we could just do it the fun way.”
“Miggyyyyyyyy!” The lady sat up, limbs drooped.
“Alright, we’ll do it the fun way.”
Lyla could hear the smile in his voice. Not just that, but she heard the familiar sound of something unsheathing. “Wait! M-Miguel- EEK!!”
It was pretty much too late. Miguel had taken out his claws, lightly scratching the top of the ball. Holy shit did that tickle.
Lyla was back on the floor, producing squeakier laughter, clutching her knees. “NAHAT THERE! HEHEY!”
“Knees bad?”
“SHUHUHUT UP!”
Miguel nodded, “I’ll make note of it.”
That son of a bitch. An angry Miguel was a threat no one would wanna be near, but what’s even worse is a mischievous Miguel, a smirking conniving lil shit Miguel. More like big shit, ya know… since he’s almost seven feet tall.
However, this kind of Miguel is the one that Lyla wouldn’t mind seeing more of.
Maybe she’d play the Barbie soundtrack more.
Woops, the spider fell into its own web >:]
![Woops, The Spider Fell Into Its Own Web >:]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e8098a893f6dd56c13c30a032806d768/791bbcc9dfd4c8bd-05/s500x750/e52c3a6ac1b7fef78e235eaf0fca893b0f25462e.png)
yeah this artstyles a fucking keeper
I've noticed that we nave little to no art of Human Alastor being tickled,he's a cutie and needs to get wrecked~
I have no idea why this never crossed my mind 😭♥ he needs to get messed up so bad uwu
Nothing To Prove || Gravity Falls Tickle Fic ||
A/N: there's a lot of buildup at the start but THIS IS A TICKLE FIC I SWEAR! more than anything though, I'm writing this for the sake of developing characters. This is familial love so if I see any i*cest, I am blocking you on sight
Summary: When Ford comes to realize how much Dipper looks up to him, he seeks out a way to show his young nephew that there's no need to be intimidated by him.
Word count: 2,454
----
Dipper
Life just got a whole galaxy bigger.
Dipper thought he knew what his life would become when he found that old dusty book in the forest; he'd pursue adventure, get into danger, fight monsters.
But meeting his number one hero? And then finding out that he's related?
Not a chance.
It'd been a year since Dipper and his sister left Gravity Falls. They had lots of time that school year to ruminate on everything they had been through together. In the span of three months, their whole universe had turned inside out.
They had another uncle. Someone else to look out for and protect them. Mabel, as she is with all news of this sort, was over the moon. Dipper, however, wasn't as content. It wasn't that he didn't like Great Uncle Ford. Far from it. He loved him unconditionally. He worshipped the ground he walked on. He would fight a thousand beasts to earn his mentor's pride. And that was the problem.
Dipper had spent so long dreaming of the author as this distant hero; an intellectual mastermind that surpassed all around him. He dreamt of meeting him, yes. Bombarding him with questions, absolutely. But now the man was part of his family. The same family that he cracked stupid fart jokes and goofed around with.
Dipper wasn't prepared to have someone so important to him in his life on a permanent basis. He couldn't help but feel a little small around Ford, like every move he made was a chance to embarrass himself in front of his idol.
After his first summer in Gravity Falls ended, Dipper hoped that his overwhelming sense of awe would pass with the time, and he would grow more comfortable around this new addition to the family. But the moment he stepped off of that bus and saw his great-uncle there to greet him, he knew it wouldn't be quite that easy.
He volunteered for as many of Ford's experiments as he could. He offered as much help as he could provide. When faced with an obstacle, Dipper made sure to prove to his uncle that he was smart and tough beyond his years. This, as one might expect, is a difficult and exhausting image to maintain. Being "the perfect, mature man of science" was hard when you were a young, hormonal teenage boy. But that wasn't going to stop Dipper.
When Ford had asked if him if he wanted to help engineer a stronger form of glass that could withstand abnormally high temperatures, he nearly fell over with excitement. He was going to be the best lab assistant Ford could ask for.
It seemed, however, that he couldn't get that right after all, because when bringing over the regular glass jar for experimentation, it slipped through his fingers and shattered.
Dipper was mortified. Not only had he broken the constant variable in their experiment, but possibly also the trust Ford placed in him to be a responsible assistant. How could he have been so careless? Was their experiment ruined now? Did Ford think he wasn't taking this seriously?
"Oh my gosh! Oh my- I- I'm so sorry, Great Uncle Ford! I don't know what happened. I thought I had it" Dipper rambled, throat tightening.
"Aw shoot," Ford cursed under his breath, "It's okay, Dipper, it happens. Here, why don't you go fetch me a new jar from the back shelves while I sweep up this mess?"
"Act- Actually you know what, I think you might actually have an easier time doing this if I wasn't here. I- I don't want to get in your way. " Dipper shuffled back towards the door.
"But I thought you wanted to-" Ford turned to his nephew only to find that he was already gone.
---
Ford
It was unusual, and not the kind that Ford enjoyed. The puzzling kind of unusual.
The conclusion did not follow the variables. Variable one: Ford was conducting an experiment. Variable two: Ford asked Dipper for assistance. Variable three: Dipper was eager to help. Conclusion: Dipper had panicked and ran off. It just wasn't right. Something was off balance.
Now, in a technical situation, Ford could figure out the root cause himself. He had well over thirty years of practice doing so. But this was a human being. Moreso, this was his great nephew, and he wasn't so skilled in the people area. He needed to outsource this predicament with someone who knew Dipper longer than he had. Someone he could trust to tell him what he was doing wrong.
That someone in particular was tucking away a large medieval flail in the cupboards of the sitting room when Ford found him. What it was for, Ford thought it better not to ask.
"Stanley, can I talk to you about something?" He said.
"I didn't know it was a bear, honest!" Stan yelled.
"What?"
"Uhh, nothing. What's on your mind?"
"I have the strangest feeling that Dipper is more anxious than normal. He ran out of my lab this morning looking like he'd seen a ghost, which I have ruled out as a possibility because the air did not smell at all of sulfur. Anyway, the point is, I think something's wrong with him. You've known him far longer than I have. I thought maybe you would have better insight into these things" Ford explained.
Stan stood silently for a moment.
"Stan?"
"Oh sorry I was just enjoying the moment you finally came to me for advice"
"Stanley."
His brother quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't gotta be a genius to figure this one out, Poindexter. The kid's afraid of looking bad in front of ya."
Ford was stunned into silence. This was a new feeling. An new, terribly odd feeling.
"What?"
"Come on, you've got to have noticed by now. He looks to you like you're a god. He practically worships the ground you walk on. You were like his hero before you'd even met him. You think he's not gonna feel some pressure to live up to your standard? He just wants you to be proud of him."
"I love him! He's my brother's grandson! And of course I'm proud of him. He's very remarkable for his age" Ford said.
"Then why don't you tell him that once in a while."
Ford lost himself in thought.
"Well, time to get back to restocking my weapons. Good luck with your family tension. I'll call you for dinner," Stan sauntered away, seemingly unbothered by the problem, "Prepping for battle, do do do..."
Once again, Ford was left alone to think.
---
This wasn't the first time that Ford had heard someone tell him that he had a standoff-ish impression on people, but he never thought it would impact his kin. Someone he treasured so greatly. Now that he knew how Dipper was feeling, he couldn't waltz around and act like he didn't know. Something had to be done. The only issue was, he didn't know what.
Ford waited a couple days before asking Dipper to rejoin his experiments, knowing that the boy probably wouldn't be willing to assist him just yet after what happened. To his relief, Dipper agreed.
It was still painful to know that his nephew was intimidated by him, but it felt nice just to have him by his side again being his seemingly normal self.
The day went without a hitch this time. In fact, things went quicker than expected and they finished early. It was as they were readying themselves to leave when Ford spoke.
"Thank you for your help today, Dipper. I've been having trouble operating all of this machinery by myself lately. Must have thrown out my back or something."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Dipper replied, "Muscles get tighter with age, so I'm sure it's normal."
Ford turned to look down at his nephew. "Are you calling me old?"
The boy paled. "Wh- I- Uh- I- I wasn't-"
"I'm afraid I have no choice but to punish you for your disrespect" the scientist said darkly.
Before Dipper could have time to overthink that threat, Ford pulled the boy into his arms, sat himself on the ground and started tickling his belly.
The first few seconds were filled with frantic babbling; jumbled syllables trying to make themselves into a coherent sentence. Ford wasn't hearing a "stop", so he didn't.
Dipper giggled hysterically. His face had instantly screwed itself up tight and was looking for a way to bury itself into some hiding place. "GREATUNCLEFORHOHORD! WHAT ARE YOU DOHOHOHOING?!"
"Tickling you, of course! I thought that was obvious," Ford answered with cheer, all pretend-seriousness gone. He chuckled. "I guess you inherited more from me than I thought."
Dipper couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands, until he settled on hiding his face with them.
"Aw, don't be shy, son. I'm not the author today. Today, I'm just your uncle," Ford then added with a growl, "Your uncle: the tickle monster!"
The boy's arms fell from his face, settling down on his lap like little t-rex arms. He seemed to have surrendered to the silliness of it and didn't bother to fight.
Wonderful, Ford thought, that means he trusts me!
As Ford moved from belly to sides to ribs, Dipper's laughter went up and down like a rollercoaster, his child-like smile never leaving his face. "IHIHIHI'M SORRYHIHIHI!"
"Nuh uh, kid. "Sorry"'s not gonna cut it," Ford said playfully. He was surprised how good he was at this. He didn't have much experience with playing with children, and he had thought his decades of interdimensional travel would've hardened him to such silliness. Thank the gods that it hadn't.
As Ford's hand started to travel up to the boy's underarm, the boy shrieked and suddenly found the will to fight.
"EHEHEHEK! NONONONONO!"
Ford couldn't help himself laughing at his adorable little ward. "Ticklish there, huh?"
"YEHEHES" Dipper cried.
"Okay, okay, I'll make you a deal. You take back what you said about me being old, and I'll stop tickling you."
Ford had expected the kid to be worn out by now. He thought it was only fair to offer him an out. To his surprise, he didn't take it.
Dipper seemed to think it over for a second, then shook his head with an extra giggle, one that was not from the tickling.
This kid is going to be the death of me, Ford thought, not a hint of regret in his mind.
"Okay, if you say so," the man said playfully, and dug all six fingers into the boy's hollows.
A shriek, and then more rambling, and then loud laughter.
Dipper, despite being tickled within an inch of his life, looked happier than Ford had ever seen him. If this was a dream, Ford did not want to wake up.
"I've got some questions for you, Dipper. Smile for yes and laugh for no, ya got it?"
All he could do was laugh.
"Okay, are you smart?"
Dipper sunk his chin in to his chest.
"Dipper, this won't work if you say yes and no" Ford remarked with fake incredulousness, "Okay, hmmmm... are you brave?"
The teen began to snicker.
"I don't think you understand the rules of this game," Ford said, which only made Dipper laugh harder.
"Alright, alright, last one. Are you ticklish?"
Dipper let out a snort at that infernal question.
"I'll take that as a yes," Ford smiled smugly.
After several more minutes of goofing around, Dipper finally had enough.
"OKAYHYHYHY OKAYHYHY! I TAKE IT BAHAHACK!"
"Good lad." And with that, Ford released his victim.
Dipper wrapped his arms around himself and giggled till there were no more laughs left in him.
"You okay, son? I didn't go too crazy, did I?"
"No no, I'm fihihine. Mabel's put me through much worhorse."
"I can believe that. She got that from your uncle Stanley, you know."
After having regained his breath, Dipper got up from his uncle's lap. "So... are you really not mad about the jar I broke the other day?"
"Oh, Dipper, of course I'm not. You should see the things I've broken down here. You'd be shocked."
"But when you make a mistake, it's different." Dipper recoiled. Apparently, he didn't mean to let that slip.
"What do you mean?"
Dipper's timidness was returning, and Ford almost regretted even asking.
"It's just... you've done so many great things and are so perfect the rest of the time that the mistakes you make don't count as much."
That was some seriously flawed logic, but Ford chose not to point it out.
Dipper continued. "I make too many mistakes."
"Dipper, you're supposed to make mistakes. You're twelve. Do you think I was able to do all the things I do now at your age? Not even remotely.
"And more to the point, you don't have to embarrassed about those mistakes. Especially not with me."
"But you're different! You're the author! The author I'd been searching for all summer. You're a dimension-hopping scientist! And surprise, surprise, you're even cooler in person! And I'm just... so... small.
"I keep trying to make myself useful, to be someone you can be proud of, but-"
Ford kneeled down and placed both hands on the kid's shoulders. "Dipper, listen very close to me. I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to really hear me, understand?"
Dipper hesitantly nodded.
"I am so proud of you. You're my great nephew. I'm proud of you every minute of every day. That's not something that can change. You've got nothing to prove to me. You make me proud simply by being who you are. Never question that. Can you do that for me, son?"
The boy looked near to tears.
Oh gods, Ford thought, did he say something wrong? He thought this would make him feel better, not worse! Should he-
Little arms suddenly hugged his neck tight. "Yeah... yeah I can."
Ford could not get his arms around him fast enough.
"Now, don't you ever go comparing yourself to me. What a disservice to your incredible self."
Dipper hugged tighter.
Ford himself could feel little pin pricks in his own eyes. He released his hug and cleared his throat.
"Well, I think we've had enough excitement down here for one day. What do you say we head back upstairs for dinner."
Dipper wiped his eyes with a happy smile. "Sounds good to me."
The two walked back towards the door, a new kind of bond formed between them. It felt like something had been accomplished today, and that was all either of them could ask for.
"You are old, though."
"Oh, I'll show you old. Get back here!"
----
This has been an idea of mine for quite some time. Rewatching the show was just the straw that broke this writer's back apparently. So happy to have finally written this ❤️
A small break in tickletober for some silly robots. I’m sorry the transformers hyperfixation has TAKEN ME RAAAAAAAH!!!!!
And umm….
COUGH YOUVE SEEN NOTHING-
having ocs is like she's my daughter. she's my power fantasy. i'm giving her everything i hate about my personality. she's a war criminal. she's never done anything wrong in her life ever. i love her. i hate her. i'm making her life miserable. who did this to her. she's unlikeable but everyone should like her. she's baby. she does cocaine in the bathroom
at no point does the mdzs novel consider nie huaisang morally grey. just because he gets away with what he did doesn't mean the story condones his actions or considers him a good person.
the only thing separating nie huaisang from the majority of the supporting cast's upper class hypocrisy (read: jiang cheng, nie mingjue, lan xichen, jin guangyao, jin zixuan etc.) is the fact that huaisang doesn't genuinely believe that what he does is righteous or justified.
huaisang knows what he did wasn't "right". he knows he used his own class and power to make his brother's murderer fall from grace and suffer tenfold. he's the only one who doesn't have an excuse or some inherent reason on hand when he's questioned.
part of it is because he's trying to avoid actually getting anything pinned on himself, but nie huaisang never once actually tells wei wuxian at the end of the book that jin guangyao deserved what happened, or that whoever did orchestrate everything "must've had a good reason".
nie mingjue, jin guangyao himself, jin zixuan, and jiang cheng would've said the former if they were in huaisang's position. the latter is lan xichen's go-to answer for these sorts of things.
some readers may think this is morally grey of nie huaisang, or that his circumstances were complex -- and while i personally disagree, my point here is that the BOOK lumps him in with all his other gentry peers. he is deeply entrenched in society’s cruel game of politics and cyclical rumors.
the book considers exactly none of those people as truly good. the book is very clear about what it considers right and wrong, and it very clearly slots huaisang with his manipulative proxy revenge scheme into the latter category.
When you can hear the gas gurgling in someone’s belly before they belch 😍😳🤤
He found her at the dining room table– shoulders rounded, eyes narrowed, tapping furiously at her laptop. Her jaw was set, breathing slightly labored, and she had an air of urgency about her. Of stress. Of…a person on the edge of an outburst.
“Darling?” he began, easing toward her with his usual grace and calm. When she felt his hand on her shoulder, she tensed at first, then breathed a sigh. Under the subtle pressure of his palm, she relaxed and blew out a breath through puckered lips, closing her eyes.
“Hi, Jumin,” she said; both his hands braced her now, and he began to knead the muscles ever so gently.
“You’re so tense,” he observed as she took her hands away from the keypad, letting them hang at her sides while she leaned back, a soft, appreciative moan whispered as he worked out a particularly knotted spot. “What are you working on?”
She closed her eyes, feeling the tension melt away into something warm, something cozy and soft and maybe a little sensual. Jumin’s touch always had that effect on her. “A new advertisement for my website. It’s…taking longer than I thought. But I can’t stop– ah– until it’s done. It’s driving me absolutely insane, Jumin.”
He bent to kiss the tip of her ear, those broad hands still working their magic; she inhaled deeply and his presence filled her completely, the low notes of his lingering cologne turning her thoughts into something more gentle– less work related, more Jumin related. “I think,” he began, the low timbre of his voice sending a spreading pulse straight to her very core, “you should put it away for a little while.” His mouth drifted over her hair to the nape of her neck, where he dropped a lingering sort of kiss. Jumin, too, closed his eyes then, taking in the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin, her hair…her. “And concentrate on other matters at hand.”
Still standing behind her, he cupped her chin in his palm and tilted her head back so that he could kiss her full on the mouth– a teasing upside-down, playful sort of kiss, his tongue skimming over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth, dark hair falling over his eyes as he bent over her. She felt herself relax completely then, and smiled as he kissed her, reaching to hold his face between her palms.
“You’re awfully distracting,” she whispered.
His reply was smug, satisfied. “Good. Stress is very unbecoming of you. I felt bad for your computer screen, having to bear the brunt of that glare you fixed it with.”
Later– by way of Jumin’s careful, attentive hands smoothing out every last instance of stress from her weary body– she soon forgot just what it was that had her so worked up in the first place.
𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞: 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
✧.* : ̗̀➛ curtis everett x female!reader (non-descriptive) ✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 177 ✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: choking, spit, curtis being curtis ✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: @dreadfulxives18 ✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: enjoy my filthy babiessssss. 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠' 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ༊*·˚
*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here. *this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.
Curtis’ fingers flexed around your throat, each digit pushing into the column of your neck. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist as your lungs constricted and begged for air, but the ache between your legs cried for him to squeeze harder.
Your lips parted, letting a needy whimper escape. Curtis chuckled darkly as he bent to press a wet kiss to your open mouth before he pulled back slightly and you watched with wide eyes as his jaw slightly moved, hearing the saliva gather against his tongue as you were forced down onto your knees.
You knew better than to close your mouth, so with the aid of the hand still tight around your throat you tipped your head back. His spit landed with a sick muted slap against your tongue as you were about to swallow, two thick fingers toyed with your parted lips before sliding to the back of your throat.
You squeezed your eyes shut which earned you a harsher tension around your neck, making you gag around the digits as Curtis eye’s darkened.
I feel like bisexual men need more support. Bisexual men are not just gay men who don’t want to admit to being fully gay. If you are male and bisexual and you are reading this, you are important. Your sexuality is valid. You are a significant part of our community.
I figured that after Arthur gets resurrected, he’s got a white shock in his hair. Had to draw it out as a post canon thing when they finally get a mirror.
