#and then there was nothing nothing in the universe Everything Died

[cerise-on-top]

Too Sweet

I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind with your idea, probably not, but this is what came to mind when you related Too Sweet to Ghost :> The original idea was by @ryan-velikan, I just wanted to write something for it!

No pearly white gates could ever compare to the feeling of having you in his arms. Your form fit perfectly into his as he held onto your hand and your waist. Truthfully, you looked so content, being this close to him. Simon Riley, the ghost that died eons ago. The hardened soldier, who lost everything near and dear to him when he grasped it in his shaky hands. The lieutenant, who never thought he could find his place among people ever again. And yet, here he was, at his best friend’s wedding, dancing with his boyfriend of three years. You were so close to him, so warm, so sweet. You were so unlike him. Simon was a monster. He has killed so many people, never even rued it once. From his hands poured a fountain of blood, never ending as he could nearly drown himself in all the lives he has ended. With a heart that even cold and empty envied, he found himself in a moment of serenity. Repeating movements as he got to be near all the people he loved, watching over them to ensure they could live. Simon Riley could die for all he cared, as long as you got to live, as long as Johnny got to smile, as long as Gaz got to bask in the sun, as long as Price got to care for them like a family, he could die happy.

Your eyes were so soft as you couldn’t pry them from his face. It was what kept you secure, made you feel safe in an environment that could turn hostile any second. Although not much of a talker, Simon could snap at anyone who dared to take this moment from you. Your voice would sometimes call out his name. A hymn more beautiful than the promises an angel could give. If you were Adam, then he’d be the snake slithering from the garden of Eden, if just to sit outside your door. How many times has he entertained the thought of leaving you before you would become as tainted and impure as he was? How many nights has he spent asking God for your salvation so you may live forever in heaven. How often has he, a man of no religion, prayed for your happiness while he was away. And here you were, looking at him as though he was everlasting joy. It was almost too much to bear for his broken, scarred soul.

You’re too sweet for me

The dark and lonesomeness came natural to him. And then you came along, shining a pure light onto him. You taught him what warmth felt like, you showed him the beauty of living, as opposed to the misery of surviving. Simon was indebted to you, but no matter what he did, he could never make up for this fortune of bliss you’ve given him. A small heart drawn on his hand, a genuine confession, a dance at a wedding. A hug when the nightmares seemed too real, a reassuring word when the past clawed at him, a loving hand when the world bared its teeth. You’d smile at him when it was evident that no one could love him. And yet, he had nothing to give in return. He was a poor soldier, worthless as they get, in the presence of the prince of the universe. A disgusting old mutt, who has never felt the affection of another. But you sheltered him from the bullet rain.

And with that, you released him. Just when he was getting lost in your soul yet again, you let go of him. But the warmth didn’t seep away for long. You had him in your grasp, pretty as vines, wrapped around him to make him stay. Both of your hands sought out his face, making sure he would look at you. But how could he possibly look away from you? The mornings didn’t shine as brightly as you did. It was almost blinding when you pulled him closer. A sensation he was familiar with, and yet it was as intoxicating as it was the very first time he experienced it. Your lips were so warm against his, a slight hint of orange. Never much the drinker you were, despite him having indulged in whisky already.

This was supposed to be Johnny’s special day, but somehow, it was Simon, who could have sworn he finally had a chance at redemption. No words were spoken, there was no need to, after all, but you knew what he was thinking:

You’re too sweet for me

[elliespuns]

I wanted to ask you this since you definitely understand the tlou characters down to a T 👌🏻How do you think sarah was conceived LMAO. Like, do you think joel and sarah’s mom were already in a relationship for a while, or were they a pretty new couple n all of a sudden she got pregnant. I’m assuming it was an accident and they were using protection, I don’t think joel would be dumb enough to not use protection.

Since joel’s birthday is in September and sarah’s mom got pregnant when he was 18, he must’ve gotten her pregnant after graduating. School in the US ends around May/June, so he would’ve been 17 during graduation. I wonder if he was supposed to go to college but had to leave bc sarah’s mom got pregnant.

I have the feeling he wasn’t planning on going anyways, otherwise he would told ellie at the university that he was supposed to go to college but didn’t bc of sarah. Not to mention, by the time his birthday came when he turned 18, if he was planning on going to college he would’ve already committed to a school since decisions would’ve come out when he was 17 and still a senior in hs. anyways that was more math than i was planning on doing lol but what are you thoughts?

First of all, I love all of this. Such a perfect, thought-through analysis (what do you even need me for, hun?).

I think everything you say makes perfect sense. The only thing I see differently is the "protection" part. I do, on the other hand, think Joel was dumb enough not to use the protection. I don't know why, but something has always told me he's one of the fathers who get their first girlfriend pregnant accidentally as a result of carefree sex and then end up dedicating their whole life to the baby, be it together with her or alone, because this baby is someone now, someone he's created, and what kind of person he would've been if he didn't want it.

Protection or not, both work, I guess. Both meant he got her pregnant by accident. People had limited options and choices back then when it came to unwanted pregnancies, so I think his initial thought was anything but "We need to keep it." despite the panic he felt.

He probably didn't even want a baby, but then he slept on it and realized there was no way back, so he manned up and married his girlfriend in the hope of raising this child together. Which didn't happen because his wife probably couldn't bear all this pressure of being a young mother and left him and Sarah on their own. That's when I think he manned up to the highest of levels because there was literally no one else who would take care of his baby.

What I think is that his wife just left him in the cold. Simple as that. Some people think she died, but that wouldn't make sense with what Joe told Ellie at the university. If his wife died, he'd probably just tell her, like in a good memory of her or something. He was already sharing his feelings about Sarah with Ellie, so he would do the same with his wife. Instead, he seemed like he didn't want to talk about his wife. I've always felt like it had nothing to do with being hard for him, but rather because this topic was not something he wanted to share with a kid.

Which makes me think his wife either left him and Sarah without saying a thing or they had a fight (she could be problematic, maybe not handling motherhood that well), and he told her to leave, knowing that he'd be a better dad to Sarah alone. 

I think Joel's wife was his girlfriend back when he got her pregnant. Maybe even his first serious girlfriend. That's probably why they decided to get married. Maybe they were even forced into marriage by their parents, because you know what it was like back then. You had to be married to have a kid, because if you had a kid without a marriage, you'd be looked down on.

I will forever wonder what Joel's wife's name was, though. I just hope it wasn't Sarah.

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

Can't sleep brain too full of death

[technicallyaminecraftsimp]

GOD I love starkid so much they saw that idea of ‘hey musicals are kind of a strange scenario if you think about it. If people just broke out in song I’d be pretty weirder out’ and they fucking ran with that and now it’s evolved into an entire universe where the whole point is that the characters are fucked up and their world is fucked up and they all need to be traumatized in a different way every time we see them. and that’s exactly why I love starkid and their hatchetfield stories

[fatehbaz]

.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

i feel like there's something so beautifully, terribly, ironically unfair about the contrast between prism and solaris.

incredibly talented women, both swayed by the power and resources zoraxis could provide for them. both so desperate to develop their separate technologies they were willing to be swayed to the side of a backstabbing corporate overlord- despite not even liking them. undoubtedly risking their lives for the sake of their technology- knowingly or otherwise.

having the project they loved so much ripped out of their hands. watching sheets of metal and bolts and rivets so lovingly fastened come undone in the blink of a flaming, volatile second. watching a little piece of you get torn apart and die, and knowing good and well that you should have died with it.

prism wanted a legacy. something that could surpass her- live on for a lifetime after her... and even after the robot agent project failed, she still got that, in the end. because she had it all along, and she just failed to realize it.

but solaris' dream was to propagate laser technology. it was a goal she could not reach without zoraxis' assistance. she wanted to push the boundaries of the potential of her craft. and she did. the death engine was- according to the agency- one of zoraxis' most lethal inventions. it was solaris' crowning achievement. decades- or perhaps even centuries ahead of the current scientific standard.

and phoenix destroyed it in under ten minutes. and she will never get that back. her ties with zoraxis- as far as we know- are cut. her reputation is probably badly damaged after her public association with the company. she will probably never be exposed to the proper conditions to build anything even technologically close to the death engine ever again.

the culmination of her life's work was ripped away from her, and where prism was left with introspection, solaris was left with nothing.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[honorthysalad]

and now to reveal the true purpose of a pokemon au: giving all the characters pokemon so I can imagine cute little scenarios w/ them and their mons.

So for ‘Hikaru’ I’m feeling a Ninetales and Yanma. Ninetales was Hikaru’s; Yanma he caught in the summer. The stone for evolving Vulpix was a gift from his late father, and he had the Vulpix much earlier than was typical training age. Yoshiki can’t remember a time Hikaru didn’t have a Pokemon by his side. At the same time, Hikaru was never very good with Pokemon, so Ninetales remained the only member of his team.

Then Yoshiki has a Grimer, Teddiursa, and Murkrow. He got the Grimer as a kid while visiting Tokyo as they’re quite common in densely populated areas- less so in cleaner rural areas, making it’s an odd sight in Kubitachi. Teddiursa is a much more common pokemon, and while it is cute, its evolution is less so for how dangerous it is. Murkrow are generally despised as pests. Known pranksters, the ones on the mountains are blamed for a lot of missing people as they’re known to lead people astray. Yoshiki’s team choices are widely discussed and criticized.

Next few are less set in stone:

Asako: Azumarill, Flaafy

Yuuki: Ivysaur

Maki: Elekid, Magikarp (based on two in-universe baseball teams)

[aria0fgold]

In this world, the storm will pass

Alec sat atop the railing of the balcony, looking up at the sky as it slowly dims to reveal the countless stars awaiting the night to be seen, to twinkle at the life below the vast sky. A cigarette placed between his lips, smoke rising up to the stars that he can only dream of reaching someday.

His eyes were vacant, what was once a vibrant blue, like the sky in a cloudless sunny day, is now merely as dull as the sky in the fog, in the stormy weather that never left. But it's getting better now. Slowly, slowly… Like clouds drifting in a windless day, moving an inch, yet moving still. Slowly… The storm will pass. But for now, he'll stay in the eye of it.

Standing beneath the stars surrounded by a quiet storm all kept inside. In this world, everything is the same, yet different. In this world, everyone is alive, safe from a greater danger than life itself. In this world, Alec is supposed to be dead, yet here he is… Someone else. In this world, his family lost Alec, yet in his world, he lost everything.

So what is he doing here then? Intruding in a world that didn't need someone like him. An Alec that was doomed to have nothing, living in a world that has moved on from Alec's death. He doesn't know, doesn't understand. He gave up understanding the world ever since that day, the day where it collapsed, leaving him with nothing but ruin. He always thought that, it would be better for him to have lost himself to the forest instead than be brought here by whatever force, whatever power, whatever God, who thought it entertaining to put him here, in this world. Is it fun? His life… to be toyed with by fate, by the world itself, is it fun? He gave up wondering about it, gave up on an answer he didn't need to hear.

Alec took a drag on his cigarette, frankly, he isn't one to smoke, he isn't one to drink, he isn't one to do any such things. But what does it matter anyway? His body… won't sustain any damage from it anymore. It's different. Everything is. Nothing was ever the same ever since his world started collapsing. Nothing was. So it didn't matter, whatever damage he does to his body didn't matter, it'll just heal it all anyway. Leaving not even scars on his skin, what a picture perfect body, devoid of scars. One would wonder if he ever went through such things, when there's nothing for him to show for it.

Alec glanced down, it was pretty high. This house, this balcony on the third floor. He gave up on that thought long ago though, it was the only constant he has left, his will to live, even after everything. Foolish, isn't it? To continue wanting to live even after all that, for what reason really? He doesn't know anymore, his memory isn't as good as it was before. So much so, that he's guilty of forgetting what his family looked like. Had he not been living in this world, he would've forgotten their names too.

Alec looked up again, to the pitch black sky, the stars brightly twinkling at him. Back in his world, he found solace in the night, in the stars above. He thought of them as his family watching over him, was it a myth he read back then? The souls of your loved ones becoming stars in the night sky. What of it now, however? In a world where everything is okay, is his family's souls still amongst the sea of stars, watching over him like they did before? What would they think of him now? Would they be happy? Glad? Relieved? Or would they be mad? Upset? Betrayed? To see Alec be happy with someone that's them yet aren't at the same time?

He doesn't want to think about it.

Just as Alec brought the cigarette to his lips to take another drag, the hand of another reached out to take it from his own, he didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to. He knows it already, by heart.

“You okay?” Ray stood beside him, leaning on the railing as he threw the cigarette to the ground. Putting the fire out with his slippers.

“You're going to ruin that pair soon if you keep that up…”

“Well, that's fine. I forgot to grab the ashtray on the way.” Ray hummed, “You dodged my question again though.” His voice had a slight teasing tone, mouth formed into a small grin as he glanced at Alec.

“It's always the same answer, anyway.” I'm fine. That's the answer he always gives to that question, every single time. He knows it's a lie, they know it's a lie, but what else can he say when words aren't enough to convey whatever he's been feeling ever since then?

“I don't mind that. Maybe, once a lie is repeated enough times, it'd come true someday.” Ray chuckled, “Though that sounds a bit dangerous, now that I think about it.”

Silence fell between the both of them, it isn't heavy nor is it tense. It was comfortable, like the breeze of the night. Ray looked to the sky, and Alec… he looked to Ray's eyes. It was as dark as the night sky, reflecting the countless stars twinkling high above with a light all too familiar yet not at the same time. This is Ray, yet not his Ray. That is Ray, one who've turned into light, amongst the sea of many others, high above the sky, a bright twinkling star. In a way, he did become a ray of light, just not that of sunshine as he would always say.

Alec moved his eyes towards the sky once more, and the two stayed there, in the silence, below the night sky, underneath the stars, they bathed in the light of a hundred promises, a thousand wishes and a million hopes for a future gentler than their present.

[impossible-rat-babies]

once again. plagued bu 1.0 WoL thoughts !

[adammilligan]

okay. i’ll put this under a readmore as to not subject you all to five absolutely incoherent paragraphs about some dipshit villain spn pulled out of their asses

am constantly thinking about apocalypse world and au!michael and au!lucifer. because that's a world where the main story ended at swan song except michael DID kill lucifer! and while i'm also constantly thinking about au!michael's line of "i killed my lucifer. tore him apart in the skies over abilene. but hey, can’t get enough of a good thing" it's also kind of important to remember that he. by this point. is absolutely batshit insane. gets a fucking high off of watching people die and laughs like a maniac when he kills gabriel and whatnot etc etc. and in this world where the story ended at swan song i think the exact same thing that happened in the main universe would've happened there. where au!lucifer would've told him that god was doing this TO them and begged him to walk off the chessboard with him and au!michael would've turned on him and called him a monster and told him that he was a good son and that he had his orders. and then he kills au!lucifer and then there's. nothing. no god. no paradise. no nothing.

and so au!michael is kind of left with the fact that not only was au!lucifer RIGHT, but that he just murdered the brother he raised from the moment he was created for nothing. absolutely nothing! and so since the majority of au!michael's anger was turned upon god instead of on au!lucifer, the latter of whom was the most important person in michael's life aside from god, then it kind of just turns into. yknow. au!michael DID remake himself in au!lucifer's image in the depths of the insanity that followed. and so au!lucifer's death became a good thing. a fun thing. i think au!michael's lack of anything to fall back on in the wake of lucifer's death (if au!raphael was like raphael in that he was tired and depressed and thought god was already dead, that's not exactly something to find a sense of stability in) plus the grief of god's betrayal plus the grief of what he did to au!lucifer literally did contribute to him BECOMING au!lucifer but worse.

and it would make sense is the thing! for au!michael to do that! because that's exactly what michael did! except with adam! michael kind of directly implied that he saw adam's word as second only to god's in 15x08, which would mean that the instant michael's faith in god was properly shattered adam's word would've taken the number one spot. regardless, michael and adam's time together no matter what happened DID somehow place adam as the most important person in michael's life aside from god. adam was his friend! and lucifer got knocked off that pedestal so adam could have that spot. the thing about this is is that. i mean. what were adam's penultimate words. they were "since when do we get what we deserve." adam isn't lucifer! he doesn't bite back! he doesn't have any sort of sadistic streak! adam's tired and sad and worn down and resigned to whatever happens. and then you look at michael in inherit the earth and what is he. he's tired and sad and worn down and resigned to his fate. and where au!michael went down swinging (like lucifer, like au!lucifer), michael literally did the opposite. he stood there and let himself be killed.

what i’m saying is that. out of the two michaels we were handed. one pretty explicitly and one based on context clues. both have a history of modelling themselves after the one most important to them after that one dies. and it’s kind of funny to me in a way that au!michael also admits that he tried to play god at one point because yeah he tried to model himself after HIM too but it didn’t work out and now he’s kind of still a more insane version of lucifer. which means that out of the two of them michael was the only one who lived up to his actual name (”quis ut deus?” which means “who is like god?” and it’s meant to be framed as a question with an answer already written: that no one is like god) but i digress. so the thought of au!michael and au!lucifer kind of drive me crazy because it means that au!michael would’ve called him a monster. realized that au!lucifer was right about everything. lost himself in the spiral of madness. and became that same monster. an even worse one, in fact. i think about it literally all the time it’s like yes dear god he still hates him he killed him once and he did worse to his alternate self but. i mean. that was HIS monster. HIS brother. HE raised him. it’s not like michael and lucifer where their relationship got worse and fell apart entirely until they no longer even seemed to care about each other by the end of it. i think that at least part of if not a lot of au!michael’s insanity is just his grief for au!lucifer and the fact that he killed him for nothing, for the father who never even cared, manifesting outwards until he can convince himself he hates him all over again while he kind of wears him like a second skin that doesn’t fit him quite right but melds just enough with au!michael’s own cruelty and anger until it doesn’t even matter.

because this isn’t the main universe! this is the fallout of a swan song that didn’t end with imprisonment! where there was no one to stop them! that ended the way it was technically supposed to end! with one brother killing the other! and the end result is the fallout of that. where au!michael really did kind of take the attributes of the one he loved most and incorporate them into himself out of grief. michael in the main universe IS capable of the same cruelty and we see that with the lance but he doesn’t share the sadistic streak as lucifer and au!michael do and au!lucifer would’ve. does ANY of this make sense.

[returntotheground]

why is my great aunt dead now when she's the only one family member i could ever call about about how i'm feeling right now

[socialc1imb]

Jazz hands but sarcastic

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

[h3nsh1n]

kim dokja is everything. he's just some guy. he's the kindest person in the world. he's Jesus Christ. he's also Sun Wukong somehow. he's the personification of love as a force that powers reality. he died for our sins. he's a demon. he's an angel. he's suicidal. he's the more important being in the universe. he could be anyone. he's an inconceivable existence that expands along countless of world lines. he's a nerd. he's a concept. he's just some strings of text badly tied together. he's also the prince of the greek underworld. he was bullied in high school. he's an analogy for all the suffering in the world and also everything that is human and worth saving (but there's nothing in this reality that is not worth saving and everything deserves to be loved). he's a god. he's the sacrificial lamb. he's a yaoi man. he's an eldricth horror. he's ugly. he's your friend and also he's you. he's a very complicated anti-suicide metaphor. he's adorable. he's repressed and depressed. he has ptsd. he's the father of various human and non human entities and also the son of various human and non human entities. he's an office worker. he's simultaneously loved and hated by all the universe. he's a gary stu. he's bisexual. he's a murderer and also the most tragic victim of the irrepressible machine of universal suffering. he's a lover. he's a fox boy. he likes isekai novels.

[justrustandstardust]

i saw an incredible post on tiktok and i wanted to expand on it, because it's genuinely amazing. all the credit to @noesbf on tt for the idea that inspired these thoughts.

geto's character is threaded through with motifs of consumption. he takes things in, whether they be curses or daughters, and is spurred by intense empathy that ends up going in the "wrong" direction once he takes the entire jujutsu world under his wing.

when we're introduced to him in hidden inventory, our first glimpse is of him consuming a curse. he's also alone, in a dark alleyway, a symbolic image that parallels his journey throughout the story. he's a consumptive force, a facet of his being that ultimately leads to his undoing because he consumes the responsibility of "saving" the strong, who are burdened by the weak.

gojo, on the other hand, repels. he's an outward force, extending out a physical barrier that creates distance between his body and the world. where geto invites, gojo rejects. their abilities are constructed as diametrically opposed to one another's.

through the motif of gojo's abilities, this image captures their consume/repel dynamic in a singular shot. after riko's death, gojo leans into red, which repels. he focuses on growing stronger and in doing so, isolates himself from the world (and subsequently, geto). on the other hand, geto leans into blue, which aligns with the consumptive nature of his character. he harbours riko's death inside of himself and it festers, like a curse.

black holes are all-consuming vacuums. they subsume everything around them and create an inescapable vortex— once you're pulled in, you're never getting out. it will literally eat you and in doing so, makes you an everlasting part of it.

white holes, on the other hand, function in opposition to black ones along the same axis. where black holes pull, white holes push. nothing can enter them; they're doomed to a lonely eternity because of the force that holds the universe at a distance. nothing outside of it can affect what goes on within, yet it affects everything around it.

however, white holes can be subsumed by black holes. while nothing can enter them, if a white hole were to cross paths with a black hole, its consumptive force is so powerful that it would eat them too.

after geto and gojo experience a rapture in their relationship, gojo withdraws from the world, holding everyone at a literal and figurative distance. yet, even while he's alone, he's endlessly drawn towards geto. his eyes are bound but his soul isn't— it's tied to the piece of him inside of someone else, and gojo visibly feels the pull.

white/black holes also correspond to the colours associated with gojo and geto's characters (they align with their yin/yang dynamic, where yin (black) symbolizes darkness & the moon and yang (white) symbolizes light & the sun).

yin/yang are more than two halves; they form an indivisible whole. they become one another: light turns to dark, the moon replaces the sun in the sky, life transitions into death only to be born as life again.

if two celestial bodies exert oppositional forces upon each other, they function in equilibrium. geto's consumption was growing alongside gojo's repelling, reaching an event horizon when he took the lives of 112 villagers and forcing the two of them out of equilibrium. he continued to consume (curses, money, vulnerable people through his cult) until he died and took gojo's soul with him.

consumption can only exist if there's a repellant force pushing back. geto and gojo are not opposites, instead, they each contain the other— every yin has yang within it and vice versa.

they are borne of each other, they are unknowable without the other. they are more than matching; together, they are complete.