#implied from blowing up spider

[shaylogic]

More DBDA memes to cope

[beastyeastfreak]

Scuttles in... mayhaps some heat headcanons if you're up for that? ^^

What the hell, sure. / ref

Cws and tags: GN! Reader, both amab and afab/ambiguous genitalia, Established romantic relationships, aphrodisiac venom, reader gets scaraoused, penetration, breeding kink, rough sex, gentle sex, implied/potential mpreg, souljam play, oral sex

Written pre silent salt update (trust me i really want to write about them👅👅👅)

(Tumblr deleted half of this because i decided to check my emails and not save, thanks man 🫩)

Mystic Flour

🌾 - It was early winter, it was only slightly colder in the peaks of transcendence. Mystic Flour was calm, scarily so. She isn’t speaking kind of calm, she usually had something to say to you. But right now all you heard was the sound of animal life and wind blowing as the two of you walked together. You tried to strike conversation, but she just hummed or gave a quiet answer. It felt like she was looking at you like you were a meal.

🌾 - Somewhere along the way her hand comes to yours, her sharp nails digging into your wrist just barely. She catches up to you, since this she had stood behind you just barely. “You tempting the beast of apathy is unwise,” she said darkly. You were unable to deny simply from her presence. Her eyes opened, iris dark as night and with each word her teeth seemed just a little more visible. They were straight like any others but sharper the farther back they were. Unfortunately, you were both unsettled and turned on by this. But as you glanced at the fangs, she glanced at your neck. Like spider she placed her face in your neck, sinking venom into your dough that made your legs weak and a steady ache between your legs.

🌾 - Her hands find themselves on your sides, digging into your ribs. She seemed to realise how she looked like, she realised what was happening to her, she didn’t need anyone watching. She pulled away then began to guide you back to the temple into your quarters.

🌾 - She’ll push you on the bed making you swear not to even hint at what they were doing ever again as she removes her clothing. She wont do it with grace, she’ll move with the urgency that fit her need. When you say you wont then after that she’ll sit on your lap and tell you to sit still and let her work, her voice like a hiss. Tearing your clothes off like a famished spider pulls webs off dead prey.

🌾 - She wont let you out of her webs until she’s done, she’ll ride you until your hips are weak, you’re murmuring her name like a prayer and tears are pricking your eyes. She’ll grind your cores together until you cant feel your legs. And when you think shes done, when you finally rest in a cocoon of bedding, some time later her lips find their way back to your neck. She’ll murmur how an heir would be enjoyable despite her apathetic view. Then she’ll bite again, the already white marks will stack on top of each other as round 2 turns to 10. And then after the heat ends, she’ll pretend it never happened, that is unless the heat worked as intended.

Burning spice

🏜️ - You were lounging in a bath pool located within you and Burning Spices private quarters. It was summer, hot as you’d expect it to be. Even the dim sunlight shining through the tinted glass overhead on the fruiting plants around you made you feel warm. You were waiting for The Great Destroyer to return from another pillaging trip, you often spent time in the water or shade during the summer.

🏜️ - His return was all but subtle, the cheers and yelling downstairs in the temple made it clear he had returned. You began to sit up, you heard him enter the quarters. He looked around for a bit before locking eyes with you, bare and wet. He wasn’t laughing boisterously, he wasn’t grinning deviously, he looked tired. But upon seeing you, his expression shifted. You ask him how it went, inviting him into the cool water to get cleaned up and so you could fix the wound on his shoulder which was quite rare.

🏜️ - He enters the bath, you wade over to him running a towel over his oozing jam while talking about your day in the absence of his speech. As you tend to him you notice how warm he is, it wasn’t unlike him to be warm but he felt hotter than usual. You ask if he feels ok, he growls and pulls your hips against his where you then get your answer in the form of his erection. “You aren’t helping,” he snarls. “How about i fix that?” You offer and are promptly turned around with your stomach against the floor surrounding the pool.

🏜️ - He wraps his hands around your thighs pulling them apart while he grinds against you. As he does, you spread your legs just a little more, now needy as he was which is when he thrusts into you. You loudly moan but he commands that you keep that level of volume. He tells you how you’re ruining him, how in all the glorious bloodshed and destruction he just wanted to see you with his progeny. Your voice begins to become hoarse, time drags on, you’ve came multiple times but only now does he begin to unravel. He’ll bite your shoulder, making you yell out. He encourages you to stay loud, he wants the world to hear when he puts his spawn into you.

🏜️ - When he’s done, leaving you achingly empty. He allows the both of you to stay in the pool for some time longer before he carries you to bed and repeats the process. And when the heat is over, you find that a cool breeze begins to wash over the spice kingdom.

Eternal sugar

🌷 - Spring had finally arrived, warm weather flowers were blooming all across the garden. Animals were coming out of their burrows, and rain was beginning to grace the land more frequently. It was pouring, which caused you and Eternal Sugar to spend a day beneath a pavilion laying on a soft cloud, curtains lining each wall for privacy. She was acting off today, she seemed like she was in thought or perhaps holding back something. You also noticed her change in appearance, she almost looked more colorful in areas of less saturation, specifically her wings.

🌷 - You had briefly left to go get food for the both of you. Coming back you had noticed she had changed position, laying on her back with wings sprawled out across the bed conveniently taking up your space. She opens one eye, her face flushed slightly. You come to the side of the bed, she brings a hand to your cheek. She looks lovesick to say the least, her eyes holding something you couldn’t comprehend. She places a hand on your chin and flicks her gaze down to your lips, then as it returns to your eyes you identify the look in her slitted pupils, lust.

🌷 - “It’s in the air,” she’d begin as her hand caressed your cheek, the other coming to your chest. Her vibrant wings shift, drawing your attention briefly. She sits up, her face an inch away from yours. “What a good partner you are for me,~ i just want you to devour me whole..” She says as her hand on your chest plays toys around your hips. You lean forward, falling for this hypnosis she has placed upon you. She instead leans back, pulling you onto her, all four wings arch around you. She croons as you plant soft kisses along her neck, she softly whines that she needs you.

🌷 - She’ll let you pull her white robe apart, kissing down her body before ending up between her legs. She moans, her body draped out as you tend to her needs. Muttering words of encouragement through small pants, her breath hitching as she finishes. When you’re done you aren’t actually done, you’ll laze around for some time before she lazily grinds on your leg, asking for more. It’ll escalate gradually, until the rain soon begins to fade and the both of you become spent, naked and shes muttering about how nice a little angel with your face would look while she feeds you treats.

Shadow milk

🃏 - Fall was beginning to show its colors, around earthbread trees were turning orange and plants were toughening up. Around the spire though, the hedges and flowers were only now turning green, thats the magic of living in a place of lies. Bored, you decide to find your partner, Shadow Milk. Finding him was easy, the spire would respond to its inhabitants if its inhabitants were true, or rather untrue. Yet today you found an issue, no clues to his whereabouts, you called out for him but got an echo back. You had to actually search for him, guess he was playing hide and seek.

🃏 - You eventually locate him, in your room strangely. He’s face down in your bed with his face in your pillow. You try to sneak up on him but he has eyes on the back of his head. He doesn’t move, you sit next to him and immediately notice his hair curling around your hand like a curious octopus. You lean down and ask him if there’s something he wants to talk about, thinking he was upset somehow. You touch his back and his breath hitches but he denies it, you immediately understand. You run your hands down his sides asking if he was sure he didn’t have anything to talk about and he continues to lie, then your hand sneaks to his souljam between him and the blankets and he folds.

🃏 - you flip him over, his face darkened where only his eyes were visible and his hair a mess. Within his hair, the eyes were all drippy like his icing was melting, the pupils heart shaped. His jester outfit hides nothing, he wanted you badly but was really trying to hide it, then again he’s much better at hiding than this… He looks angry and smug at the same time, rambling about how annoying it is when people chase him around, you knew he liked it when you went looking for him, no one really did.

🃏 - Your thumb idly traces his souljams rim as he speaks, you watch as his face contorts and voice stutters if you touch a certain spot or press down too hard. As you let him ramble, he inadvertently reveals how hes feeling, how obsessed he is with you right now. How he wants you in ways that cookies probably couldn’t withstand. In response to that you press a little harder making him react quickly, his fingers grip your clothing, claws digging into the fabric. You simply smirk and watch him deny that you had an effect on him while one of his legs twitches.

🃏 - Soon you move to sit between his legs, your thumb pressing into the slit in the middle of his souljam making him squirm and tighten his legs around you drawing you closer. You then lean down, pressing your lips to the cold crystal before licking it, feeling his hips buck up again you. His movements stopping as he goes limp. You kiss his cheek and tell him he can just tell you next time but he then grins. “You say that like we’re not done.” He speaks before pouncing on you.

[angelyuji]

webbed-up

spider-man x f!reader (noncon/kinktober week 1)

cw // noncon, shitty smut, implied stalking, dubcon

18+!!! minors dni!!!

“HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP!” it was the middle of the night and no one was out. you were all alone when someone had snatched your purse and ran. you chase after them, screaming for help, but no one was coming. you follow them into an alley and before you could continue screaming, a familiar voice comes from behind you.

“woah woah, what’s the issue here, cutie?” you turn to see spider-man standing before you.

“s-someone t-took my p-purse.” tears streaked your face as you sobbed.

he tilts his head and lifts his hand, “this purse?” you blink. your purse hung from his arm.

the relief came in waves, “oh my god thank you so much-” as you reach for the purse, he tosses it into the air and webs it to onto the wall of the alley. “-what are you…”

“since i helped you, you can help me, can’t you?” his voice was deep, and as he moved closer, you could feel your heart in your throat.

“y-you’re not spider-man, spider-man wouldn’t…” you back up, alarms going off in your head.

you hear him sigh, “spider-man has needs too, you know…. i mean, it’s only fair." you back up, looking around for a way to get out, “uh oh babe, are you trying to run?” before you could move, you feel your arm slam against the wall. “just stay still.” he grabs your other arm, forcing it against the wall, and webs it. you try to struggle, but you weren’t budging.

“please d-” your words were silenced as he webs your mouth closed.

“for today, i’d prefer your mouth closed.” his spandex-clad fingers go under your shirt, “god, how i’d love to really feel your skin.” chills go down your spine and you choke on your sobs. he coos, softly, his hands wandering down to grope your ass.

you try to scream through the webs, but your sound comes out strangled and muffled. spider-man taps your butt, “we don’t have much time, jump up and wrap your legs around me.” you shake your head and he huffs, “don’t be difficult. the faster we get this done, the better it’ll be for you.” he tilts his head. you test the webs trapping your arms once more, seeing no change, you try to jump in little space you have. he makes sure to grab your ass, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. you could feel his hard cock under the suit, pressing against your cunt. you let out a panicked sound at the feeling. he groans, letting his head drop to your shoulder. slowly, he rolls his hip into you, pressing himself closer. you let out a muffled moan and you hear him chuckle.

“i wish i could taste you.” he groans into your ear, as he grinds against you. you could feel heat starting to pool at your abdomen as he gets rougher. “my good girl, my pretty girl.” his voice was dripping in pleasure as he breathlessly groaned, getting faster. you couldn’t hold back your moans and spider-man gets faster hearing you. you let out muffled pleas, as you feel the coil tighten in your abdomen. “i hear you, cutie, i hear you.” he grinds you against him for the final time and you feel that coil snap as pleasure washes over you in waves. you hear him groan and slump, pulling you as close as he could without hurting you.

a few minutes pass before spider-man collects himself, letting your legs drop to the ground, “this-” he gestures between the two of you, “-was great. let’s do this again sometimes.” he blows you a kiss and swings away, leaving you attached to the wall. after another 15 minutes, you feel the webs start to disintegrate. you rip your arms out and pull the webs covering your mouth off, letting you loudly sob. you snatch your purse off and dig out your phone, in between your choked whimpers.

the phone rings for a few minutes, before he picks up, “p-peter? c-could you come pick me up? p-please?”

his voice was sympathetic, “god, of course, (y/n)… i’ll be right there.”

[teamred]

sunday morning

✩‌ logan howlett x reader x wade wilson | fluff | suggestive | 1.1k

SUMMARY | autumn weather begins to roll in one sunday morning. you greet your boyfriends in the living room, finding wade matching you in one of logan's signature plaid shirts. // part of the home sweet home series

WARNINGS | making out, touching, s*xual jokes, morning s*x on the couch implied

RATING | teen+

Warm streams of sunlight pour through the slitted window shades and onto the bed, draping over your eyes and waking you from your beautiful slumber.

With a content smile, you savor the fact that it’s Sunday and that sunlight, rather than an obnoxious alarm, is your wake-up call. You prefer it this way over any day.

Despite the sun’s warmth, you find it chilly, more so than usual, especially in contrast to your t-shirt and shorts-clad body. Fall approaches and it’s one of your favourite times of the year. The beginning of cozy drinks, crisp air, and the city blanketed in vibrant orange leaves. 

But for now, you’re not quite ready to embrace autumn, tugging the blanket up and covering your shivering self up to your neck to ward off the chill. 

Reaching behind you in the king-sized bed, you hope to find one of your boyfriends for a little extra comfort and warmth, but your hand only meets empty space. Your ears catch the familiar hum of your more talkative partner, along with the TV and satisfying sounds of morning coffee being made. 

Blinking the sleep away, you spend a few more moments nestling in your blanket. When you finally decide to get up, you instinctively step towards Logan’s side of the closet and grab one of his brown plaid shirts to cover-up. Given his taller stature, the ends of his shirt easily cover your thighs. 

The bedroom door creaks open and Dogpool immediately welcomes you with a happy wag of her tail. Squatting down to her level, you pet her on the head and give her some loving scritches. 

Glancing up, you spot Logan sprawled on the sectional sofa, watching TV with his legs draped over the extended part. He’s wearing a simple white tee and plaid pajama pants and adorning a bit of messy hair.

Across the room, in the kitchen, Wade’s whistling as he makes drinks, decked out in one of his many Spider-man shirts, pink and white striped pajama bottoms, and another plaid shirt from Logan’s extensive collection. 

Your smile widens at the sight of him in Logan’s clothes, fawning how handsome he is, almost rocking it as much as Logan does.  

Standing up, you catch Logan eyeing you up and down, gaze lingering on how the oversized shirt fits you. There’s a glint in his eye, reminiscent of how he looked at you last night. 

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says with a small smile, his voice still carrying the raspy edge of waking up early.

“Good morning, sweet cheeks!” Wade sing-songs. “How are the holes this fine—” 

His face lights up as he sees what you’re wearing. 

“Oh, my God! We’re totally matchy-matchy, babe,” Wade says, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.  

You stroll into the kitchen and touch his chest from behind. “We are, indeed, babe.” 

Initially, you plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he turns his head after, diving into a deep kiss. Post-kiss, he gently rubs his nose against yours, holding you by your waist. You giggle at the affectionate gesture. 

“Who pulls it off better, Logie Bear?” Wade asks, still tenderly holding you with locked eyes.

“You know the answer to that,” Logan deadpans from the living room. 

“It’s me,” Wade mouths, pointing to himself dramatically. Although you shake your head in disagreement, you beam in response. 

Reluctantly, you pull away from Wade’s body, but still keep contact in the form of hand-holding. You grab the cup of tea he made for you. 

“It’s cool this morning, huh?” you comment, blowing your tea before taking a sip. 

“Yeah, fall’s officially here to eat our ass out,” he mirrors you, drinking some of his coffee. “Not that I’m complaining—you know I love me some PSLs.” 

You glance at the color of his coffee. 

“Wade, I’m not sure pumpkin spice lattes can even compete with how sweet and creamy you take your coffee.” 

“What are you talking about? I add just a teeny, tiny pinch of cream and sugar,” he protests. 

“You drink coffee the worst way, bub,” Logan pipes up, surprisingly listening in on the pointless conversation. 

“Okay, Mr. I-Drink-Coffee-As-Dark-As-My-Empty-Soul,” Wade retorts with a roll of his eyes. He jerks a thumb toward the living room. “Get a load of this guy, am I right? Actually, on second thought, you did get a load of him last night. And me, of course.” 

He winks at you and all you can do is shake your head, indulging in Wade’s humor. You gather your tea and another cup, then walk towards the couch. Setting a cup of black coffee on a coaster in front of Logan and placing your tea beside it, you settle next to him. He drags his attention away from the TV and reaches out for you, touching the back of your bare thigh. 

“Thanks, baby,” he says, rubbing his thumb tenderly over your skin. You squeeze his hand in response, a silent “Of course” conveyed.

“Did Wade wake you up?” you ask. 

Logan shakes his head. “No, I was up before sunrise. Had a hard time fallin’ back asleep.” 

“Was it really bad last night?” you ask in concern, reaching out to stroke his face.

“No, it was fine,” he assures. “Sleep’s been better since we started this.” 

This obviously implying the unconventional relationship you three share, but it works, even if Logan’s not keen to admit how he has a soft spot for Wade. Logan leans into you for a kiss, his grin spreading as he does so. It’s hard not to mirror his smile. 

The kissing is innocent, but only for so long.

“You look so fuckin’ good in just my shirt, y’know that?” he murmurs, tugging you flush to his body. His calloused hands trail up your legs and underneath his shirt that you’re wearing. A low moan follows. 

“Hey, invite me if you’re gonna be fucking on my couch without me!” Wade exclaims, suddenly flopping across Logan’s lap and your body. You groan, trying to support the weight of your two muscle-bound boyfriends. 

“It’s Al’s couch!” you and Logan chorus, barely managing to keep your balance.

“And don’t you forget it!” Althea suddenly says, her voice muffled behind her bedroom door. 

Logan shifts to press closer against Wade while still holding onto you. Your other boyfriend dips his head, kissing you fervently. His coffee breath is unmistakable, but you couldn't care less, especially when you feel Wade pressing his rising hardness against you.

“Also, besides my usual warning about keeping it down, if you’re gonna fuck on the couch again, please wipe it down after,” Blind Al calls out, still behind the door.  

“Yes, Al,” all three of you respond in unison in your tangled harmony. 

Before long, plaid shirts are tossed aside, along with the rest of everyone’s bed wear. You keep your moans and whines to a minimum for Al’s sake (or at least you try to).

You welcome the oncoming weather of fall with your bodies pressed up against each other, exchanging warmth in the chill morning. 

And of course, besides sleeping in, you remember why Sunday mornings are your absolute favourite.

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Asylum Spider]

A/N: This feels a little bit strange to post. It's an older OC (the drawing I used is like 3 years old) I had for a horror manga. I thought it would make a good yandere if you're into actual monsters. And the atmosphere is a lot like an indie horror rpg. :)

You wake up in a damp, dark room with no recollection of how you ended up here. Hovering above you is a repugnant beast whose appearance terrifies you into silence. Yet it doesn’t attack you. Quite the opposite, it seems to want to guide you outside. You must escape quickly, as whatever lurks above causes the creature to squirm in fear. Yet as departure approaches, a desire blooms within its ancient heart: must you really leave it behind?

TW: Monsters, horror, implied violence/abuse

Your vision is blurry and your head is throbbing with a harrowing, unbearable headache. You've been awakened from your unexplainable slumber by cold yet burning drops of liquid hitting your cheek at irregular intervals. You squint and try to focus on whatever lies before you. Slowly, the object becomes sharper and your eyes widen in terror. Drooling above you, a monstrosity. It looks almost human. Sharp, curved teeth are grotesquely gawking their way out. The skin is discolored, similar to the blueish tint of someone struck by hypothermia. The creature seems to be wearing a strange sort of straight jacket, tightly securing the arms and ending in a shredded rag, dangling between the skinny, crooked legs. Yet the most disturbing feature are the massive arthropod appendages that fan out from behind, suspending the abomination above ground.

The ridiculous, offensive sight drains the blood from your face and you hold your breath. You wait for the final blow that never arrives. It lowers its head and inhales deeply, trying to detect if you're still alive. Satisfied with the answer, it scurries aside and leaves you enough space to lift yourself up. The wide smile remains plastered on its face, making it look like a deformed mannequin. With nothing left to lose, you decide to risk it. "Can you talk?" you mumble, unsure about the potential response. It shakes its head in denial and you raise your eyebrows. So it can understand human speech.

You stand up and look around. There's a pungent smell irritating your nostrils, and large pipes slither their way over walls and ceilings in a maze of rusted metal. The floor is flooded and your ankles are sunken in murky water. Above the only door hangs an old plaque, eaten by mold and age. "W∎ter & Drain∎∎∎: Pro∎∎rty of ∎∎∎∎∎ Asylum". Ah. This must be the sewers, then. How did you even end up in the sewers of an asylum? Maybe someone upstairs can provide you with answers. You turn to the creature that has been obediently observing you.

"Can you take me to the main building?"

The humanoid spider screeches and trashes its appendages across the water. You jolt and step back instinctively. Is it mad? Have you upset it somehow? No, if anything, it looks afraid. You stare at its bizarre convulsions until it occurs to you the movements aren't quite as erratic as you assumed. It is drawing something using a swamped patch of ground.

Don't let find you Get out

You're choking with dread again. The ominous words send a cold chill down your spine and you shiver, helpless.

"How am I supposed to get out if I don't know where the exit is?" You demand with your last ounce of energy. 

It wobbles its way towards the door, and stops to face you expectantly. Is it offering to guide you? You're not quite sure whether to trust the ghoulish creature, but the rotting room is filling you with panic. 

Anything is better than being alone here. 

What a suffocating atmosphere. The corridors are tall, narrow and black. You can barely discern anything around you and the only sounds are the ghastly echoes of the metal creaking and bending from the water pressure. That, and your uncertain steps across the muddy flow. You glance at the creature. Its eyes are covered by a leather blindfold, so the darkness mustn't be an impediment for it. Then again, how can it tell its way within this colossal labyrinth?

"Is this where you live?" you whisper, trying to make conversation. You need something to distract you from your pounding heart.

It nods hesitantly. 

Your foot hits something and you instinctively attempt to kick it off. Perhaps some algae that begun developing in this forgotten grave. It seems to have wrapped around your ankle, so you bend down to remove it with your hands. It's a soaked sheet of paper. The ink has mostly diffused into the page, but you can still read some of the larger headlines. "Dozens have disappeared. The mystery of the abandoned Asylum, believed to be haunted by the countless victims of horrid experimentation". Next to the title is a photograph too smudged to make out.

You stop in your tracks, focused on the blurry letters. The monster patiently waits for you. Is it something to be asked? You gaze up at its features, trying to take in the details. You take a deep breath in and open your mouth. 

"Did they...um...do this to you upstairs?"

It seems to ponder your question with the same unfaltering grin that now feels painfully forced. Finally, it nods.

What a strange little creature you are. He returns your curious stare. Now that he thinks about it, you must be the very first person to follow him. When was the last time he spoke to another living creature? He can't remember. The others would panic beyond control at the mere sight of him, blindly running away and getting lost in the sewers. Later he'd find their bodies quickly decomposing under the running water, and he'd dispose of them outside. No one deserves to die here. The really unfortunate ones made it upstairs, into the asylum. He'd rather not brood over it. 

Yet here you are, asking questions and walking alongside him as if you were on a stroll. He doubts he's gotten less hideous over the years. Then again, he can't see to confirm. Just as he can't see you. Despite his lack of vision, he is overwhelmed by the feeling that you're a beautiful being. You must be. And thankfully, you won't have to worry yourself with any of the horrors lurking these cursed grounds for much longer. He'll help you escape.

Then he'll be alone once more. It shouldn't bother him this much, it's always been like this. But meeting you has reminded him just how much he missed the presence of another human, how dearly he longed for a kind voice. Is it selfish to fear isolation? 

"Oh! You're right, I can see a gate from here." You exclaim in gratitude. 

You sprint towards the rusty bars and feel a cool breeze against your skin. This must lead outside. The creature has kept its word. Soon enough all of this will be a nightmare of the past.

"I-" 

The monster seems to be making an effort to speak, but all that comes out is a dissonant croak. You're confused and he can sense it. 

Must you really leave him behind? He needs to let you know that he'd like to stay with you, but his throat is contracting pointlessly and there's nothing he can use as a writing surface. What is there to do? His chest is tightening with the frenzied desire to keep you with him forever.

Please don't leave him.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Friendly reminder that Gwen's father was most likely going to shoot her.

And Miguel might've legit saved Gwen's life.

Rewatching ATSV - This scene always just gets be HEATED. Everytime I catch something that makes me

'Okay. Okay yeah, yeah - AHHHHHHHHHHHH-'

And this time I realized. Oh. OH.

Gwen's dad was PLANNING to shoot her - Or.. if we consider cop training, he was mere seconds away from actually firing on her.

And he would've had Miguel not been there.

In Gwen's confrontation scene - her father WAS actively threatened and afraid of her. And from what we see, he was VERY VERY close to acting on it, more than you think.

The point in the scene begins with him pointing the gun at her, and as he speaks and Gwen begins to beg, he begins to gradually lower it.

Until she steps closer to him. And then he starts pulling it on her again.

He is literally re-raising the gun at his daughter, because she took a step towards him.

So not only is she his daughter, she's also like... 5'6 and sixteen years old.

And he's still afraid of her, enough so that when she takes even one step closer, he is ready to threaten her life again.

You can hear the fear in his voice, and I don't doubt for a second he would pull the trigger - either on a warning shot, or a 'nonlethal' blow.

We've all heard cops say it before. 'I panicked', 'it was self defense'.

And Friendly reminder-

MIGUEL saves Gwen's life here.

Now look at this first photo.

And before you keep reading, please guess what's really really REALLY bad about that photo. Just look.

Trigger Discipline.

If you don't know, trigger discipline is the concept taught to gun-owners in order to reduce accidental shootings and firings.

Trigger Discipline is the idea that your finger should NEVER be on the trigger of gun unless you plan to fire it in the next two-three seconds.

Otherwise, THIS is the proper position to hold a gun.

Gwen's father is a cop. He's 100% been trained in trigger discipline. He knows not to do this.

Which implies - George Stacy was ACTIVELY PLANNING on shooting Gwen right then and there. As in, seconds away from pulling the trigger.

Raising a gun to his daughter at close range, finger on the trigger.

I think his actions can speak for themselves. He was going to shoot her.

And the only reason he didn't, was because Miguel saw this - and forcefully took the gun from him. (Like a proper Spider-man put some respeckt on his name)

George didn't care that there were TWO adults standing there as witness. He didn't care that he's not supposed to touch the trigger. In that moment, truly all he cared about was imprisoning Gwen - by any AND ALL means necessary.

And to top this off -

Friendly reminder, he never apologized. For ANYTHING.

He doesn't apologize for pulling a gun on her. He doesn't apologize for forcing her into homelessness. He didn't apologize for accusing her of murder.

He doesn't even ADMIT that she DIDN'T KILL PETER.

All he does is quit and compliment her. No apology. No acknowledgment about how his identity as a cop turned him into a toxic horrible father. No acknowledgment that Gwen isn't a killer.

Just 'I quit'.

Had Miguel not been there - I'm very sure George would've posed a VERY real danger to Gwen's life.

He doesn't deserve to be forgiven. And really, considering his arc, glorification - and his failure to even apologize - it really goes to show that at some points ATSV really teeters on casual copaganda.

Also Miguel that was really really cool of you (you saving Gwen's life totally makes up for the whole chokeslamming Miles thing <3 /j)

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part ii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, some fluff if you squint

word count ; 4.3k

notes ; at long last, here's the much waited part two! truly didn't expect the first part to blow up like it did, but i'm ever so grateful for all the support and the patience for those still here!

parts ; one two three (tba)

“Lyla, show me the nearest florist from here.”

“The nearest flower shop? That’s gonna be Business is Blooming on 27th Street—”

“27th Street?!” Miguel exclaims, his shock at the distance startling him and making his hands accidentally tighten the belt he was fixing much too tightly. He lets out a strangled choking sound and quickly loosens it before his legs lose oxygen, a feat that he’d hate to do just minutes prior to an event that could possibly change his life for the better. “That’s at least fifteen minutes away and on the opposite side of Clark! I’m already late, aren’t there any other ones closer?”

Lyla’s smaller holographic form pieces together on top of his full-body mirror that displays him in a formal-casual attire consisting of a cream turtleneck, black dress pants buckled with a coffee brown belt and topped altogether with a sepia overcoat that hadn’t seen the light of day since he bought it all those years ago. She puckers her grinning lips, a little amused at the rarity of Miguel in such an outfit and thinking he looks like a cup of coffee.

“Well, there’s always that crowded grocery store on Main?” she suggests as she examines her fingernails, instantly changing the pattern of them with a snap of her fingers. “But that’s gonna cost ya another twenty minutes and you’re already what—? Ten minutes late?”

Miguel fights off a groan at her teasing. “Lyla, I’m serious. Are there genuinely not any other ones around here? Any local ones? C’mon, this is Nueva York, there has to be at least one.”

“You could always try the marketplace. But then again, it’s Sunday so might not really be wise to take your chances,” Lyla shrugs.

Miguel even wonders if men these days still even have the dignity to give their partners flowers after realizing there is a significant lack of florists in today’s day and age. He wouldn’t be like them; flowers are a timeless gift everyone enjoys and he thinks if he can’t get it for you, he might as well not call himself a man at all. 

His eyes go to spot the window in the reflection of the mirror where the sun is beginning to finally set and the city’s nightlife is rising from the dead. Buildings of all heights buster from every corner and the open road that eradicates much of the land dissolves a weary pit in his stomach, obviously annoyed at the many obstacles that block his path. Miguel takes another glance at the clock, the minute hand inching closer and closer and closer to 6:00. The initial plans were to leave the apartment by 5:30, acquire some gifts for you and then travel to the restaurant by 6:00, but seeing as how he’s still trapped in his abode, Miguel thinks that he can only do so much.

But he realizes that’s for Miguel O’Hara, renowned Alchemax geneticist and full-time father. Miguel O’Hara, an everyday citizen, couldn’t possibly crunch so much in such little time.

For Spider-Man, however…

Lyla eyes him suspiciously and purses her lips when Miguel looks at his wrists and then at the window again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miguel.”

“What’s wise?” he replies coyly, going to quickly shovel off his clothes to replace them with a familiar blue and red attire.

“I know whatcha gonna do,” Lyla says and glitches around him as he searches for his suit. “But it’s not gonna end well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, mister!”

Miguel shakes her caution off, too occupied with shuffling on his superhero suit onto his body before neatly tucking his other outfit into his hammerspaced pocket. “It’ll be quick, I swear. I just need to get her some flowers and then I’ll be on my way. Lock up the house for me, yeah?”

“You’re not gonna make it,” Lyla shakes her head. “Just ditch the flowers and get her something on the way instead.”

But the last of Lyla’s words don’t make it to Miguel’s ears, as he’s already slinging and gliding himself out of the window and toward the given address of the florist. Lyla can only watch in artificial disdain as Miguel’s figure grows smaller and smaller through the passing seconds. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she flickers off the apartment lights before disintegrating.

The roar of the city life grows louder and louder the more Miguel comes closer to the center of it where the flower shop lays. People gather in clusters bustling about all over, making him a little weary of himself as he stares at them from above a high tower. He’s not exactly an ordinary passerby that can easily maneuver their way through so easily—especially not with this getup. Spider-Man is also a name that rather became widespread across the city of Nueva York, meaning that even if one person were to see the flash of blue and red, he’s up for trouble. 

The evildoers tonight seem to be at cease, thankfully. He hasn’t heard of any malicious plotting or future events that will take place today by any of the supervillains that hunt him down like deer recently. Then again, there’s always smaller crimes still waiting to be stopped, but he’s sure the cops will come around for those. Miguel convinces himself it’ll just be a one time thing.

Yet when the familiar song of police sirens blare through the city, he twitches at the thought of leaving such miscreants in the hands of police when he’s sure he can take them down like an army of ten men.

But the police have ten men on them, so truly he can just leave it alone, right? He’s essentially in front of the flower shop that’s seated below an apartment building. All he has to do is just jump down, get the flowers, and leave in the nick of time. He doesn’t have time to dilly dally with low-rated criminals. 

Then again, when he spots the gang of robbers in two white vans speeding down the road at a blistering speed without any caution for pedestrians, Miguel grits his teeth. On their tail is a rally of five police cars that keep gaining and losing them by the second and Miguel isn’t sure whether the irritation was from his indecisiveness or the fact that if he didn’t do anything, there will be consequences.

Perhaps do both to ease his mind? No, he can’t do that. You’re most likely on your way to the restaurant, all dolled up and fresh-faced. He still would need the time to fix himself up in some dingy public bathroom. A cop car that’s been hiding in the corner joins the chase—that’s surely more than enough to take care of them?

Miguel’s eyes go back and forth... back and forth between the two sights. Anxiety is doing little to help his situation and a mist of sweat begins to form on his skin the more the seconds tick by, making the innermost part of his suit much more uncomfortable and moist. A clock hangs by an awning nearby that displays the haunting time of 6:03 PM, just twenty-seven minutes shy of the designated 6:30 meeting time.

He glances one more time at the chase, swallowing a thick lump in his throat when he sees the vans hurdle full speed toward an open street of walking pedestrians, all ignorant of the fact to what beholds them in just mere seconds.

Miguel curses under his breath.

It’ll only be this for today, no more after that.

Fatigued eyes go to watch as the last people leave the restaurant, leaving you isolated in your little corner both embarrassed and hungry due to the heavy lack of food served on your platter for tonight. The other waiters begin to scrub the tables and booths free of crumbs and topple the chairs onto them, indicating that tonight has drawn to its close. You think you’ve memorized the entirety of the menu at this point, considering it’s really all you’ve been averting your eyes towards to avoid the looks of others.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the waiters and waitresses pitifully gossiping about you and a heat flashes onto your face by how incredibly desolate you’ve looked in the past three hours. Internally, you thank them for their patience and how they’ve tolerated your excuses for your date’s tardiness-turned-absence, knowing that it must be a pain to look after someone that hadn’t even ordered anything besides water for the time she had been here.

You don’t even wait for your waitress to come to your table for the nth time tonight, going by your own initiative to pack up your things. Your phone is still devoid of any notifications from Miguel, as well, even after the four calls, occasional text checkups, and last minute voicemailed question of a needed rescheduling if he so desired. 

What remains is just a grayed out Read, 7:47 PM underneath all the text bubbles.

“I… sincerely apologize if I loitered at all,” you murmur with your head half-down to the young host who shuffles the menus back into the lectern. “This was truly the last thing that I had expected from him…”

You instantly take back that statement the moment it leaves your lips. If anything, you should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Foolish you were—you’ve been with Miguel for the past three years, this was everyday behavior for him. You suppose this is how Gabriella must feel constantly and another heartache pits itself within you at the shared feeling.

The host shakes his head sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be our first case, I’m sure you didn’t have any ill intent. If anything, I’m the one sorry that he made you wait that long,” he replies with evident pity. “Whoever he is, he must be a dick for leaving such a pretty thing like you alone all night, ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s—” you fall short on your words, not even having the energy to sorely defend Miguel’s name. “Never mind…” you mutter.

“Do you need a cab?” asks the host, “Well actually, I’m about to clock out for tonight. I can drive you home, if you want. It’s the least I can do for you after tonight.”

You’re about to reply to him to turn down the offer, as you suspect he’s the type of guy to use women in these situations to his advantage, but the doors suddenly burst open to reveal the one and only in a hazy state and what seems to… flowers clutched in his hands? The petals, however, are corrugated and some have even completely drooped down from their stem. The paper that is supposed to guard them is wrinkled and torn at the corners. Almost all of the bouquet is wilted, much like your own composure for tonight. 

Miguel isn’t much better. Hair and clothes a little damp, he’s frazzled and evidently guilty, as his face pales when he sees your contrasting appearance. You’re adorned in an a-lined, half-sleeved royal blue dress that made you look so regal in comparison to your daily white blouse-black pants outfit that he's seen too much of. Not to mention additional details of your styled hair and accessories just brought out the best of your beauty that was wasted on essentially nothing this evening. 

“Mr. O’Hara…” you breathe when he passes through the door. The first thing that you notice automatically when his face properly comes into view is a sharply jagged, yet thin cut on the side of his cheek. “Did someth—”

“(Y/N), I’m so… so sorry,” he chokes out. “Something c-came up at work and they asked me to help them out… I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said no, but they were kind of on my ass about it and I got so caught up with it, so I wasn’t able to text you and—”

“She waited three hours,” the host drones and juts his thumb toward the dining area where all the chairs are laid atop the tables. Its lights flicker out, leaving only the foyer and smaller hallways lit so dismally in the night. “Until closing. She didn’t order anything in the meantime, so not only you left her alone tonight, you left her alone and hungry.”

“Hey listen, bud,” Miguel snaps at the host. He points a finger at him with irate in his eyes. “Not your business, so stay out of it.”

The host scoffs with a smirk on his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and certainly not the first time I’ve seen this happen. Guys like you always—”

You raise a hand to stop their bickering, afraid of what might happen if things escalate further as you really didn’t desire to do anything more than just sleep off your feelings. Both men stop and turn to look at you with concern on their faces.

“Do you still need that ride home?”

“Are you still hungry?”

A frustrated head shake finally silences the both of them. 

“I’m fine, thank you for the offer, though,” you say quietly to the host. You turn to Miguel, who swallows at the sight of your tired eyes. “May we talk outside? I’d hate to stay here any longer than I need to.”

Miguel attempts to excuse himself one more time, but when you begin to pace yourself toward the door without waiting for him, he realizes he can’t exactly make any more decisions of his own any more this evening. Not after choosing his heroic duties again and again for tonight instead of tending to you.

The moon and stars tonight have made their presence with the special guest of light rain coming in for a visit. The whisper of a drizzle ghosts itself on your goosebumps skin and the chill of a wind nips at your flesh. 

Miguel is quick to follow you. “I’m really sorry again, (Y/N),” he utters so softly that it makes your heart ache with familiarity. It’s the same tone of voice he’s used with Gabriella when at times, he wasn’t able to make it to her events or practices like he promised. “Are you still hungry by any chance? I know a good 24/7 diner that’s pretty close here.”

Without turning around, you politely shake your head and begin to search for any cabs coming your way. “I’ll be okay. I think I have some leftovers in the fridge that can suffice.”

The thought of you eating alone like he did on a night that you shouldn’t be sends shivers of guilt down Miguel’s spine. He curses himself at his past actions—deciding that it was stupid to catch those robbers who didn’t even put up much of a fight, to stop that gang brawl that was happening on the corner of 5th that was resolved the moment the elderly shopkeeper began to yell, to help that old lady that was certainly taking her sweet time to cross the street. They were such unbelievably mild crimes that he didn’t need to attend to, but did anyway even with the thought of you in mind.

Perhaps he should’ve had more faith in technology, because he’s sure Lyla was going to have much fun taunting him for the rest of the week. 

“You can keep the flowers, too,” you say softly when a cab begins to pull up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I have a vase to store them in unfortunately.”

Miguel’s grip on the dismal bouquet tightens, not even trying to fight your refusal as you get into a cab. He stops the door from closing just as you’re about to, trying one last time to make up for his actions. 

“At least let me pay for your cab,” Miguel whispers.

You know he’s sorry. You can see in his eyes the familiar gleam of woe that he’s given to his daughter. Your eyes go to flicker at the cut again, but you know that if you ask, he’s sure to give one his many excuses because it isn’t the first time he’s shown up with an injury before. And you don’t want to put yourself through that wall of verbal familiarity. 

With sorrow gentleness, you pry his fingers off the edge of the car and shut it, putting a physical barrier between you and Miguel. The eyes of the driver goes to pitifully glance at your state before beginning to rev up the engine.

You don’t even have the courage to share a glance towards Miguel one last time before the cab begins to drive off—your wallow of disappointment is deep enough as it is.

The rest of the week is agonizingly slow; Miguel dares to say it’s torturous, even.

He’s thankful you’re still acknowledging his existence and talking with him, but your conversations lack the usual warmth and gentle playfulness they often had. It was already lonely enough dealing with the lack of a third person like him at home, but the feeling of isolation felt even more scarring this time because when he came home late after your babysitting session, you didn’t bother with small talk with him, the only thing that made him realize he didn't have to do everything by himself alone.

You didn’t ask how the late shift was, how were the bosses treating him, if he was getting enough rest… no, you only kept him updated on his daughter's schoolwork and any future events regarding her and her only. Your words never included him or you, only finishing off with a goodbye and have a nice night.

At least you were still kind enough to fix him the usual leftovers.

Work itself wasn’t much better. Conversations were brief and the lab in which you two worked privately was filled with silence that was only broken with the occasional demands and directions of lab work. Sometimes a forced cough would sneak its way through Miguel’s lips if the silence began to disturb him too much. He attempted to make some at the beginning, asking how your day was and whether your father was on your tail again, but he was met with short, sharp responses. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m not sure.”

Never have such words been so agonizing before. Ironic that they are because Miguel often hated it when people rambled and preferred it when conversations got to the point. He supposes, though, you get to the point too fast for his liking nowadays.

When he tried bringing up an explanation for Sunday’s events, you’d quickly shut it down as tenderly as possible, saying things along the lines of “It’s alright, your schedule is hectic. I can understand.” or “I just hope your work didn’t give you too much trouble.” You’re so polite about it that it hurts him. Miguel would much rather have you lash out and insult him than have you soften the landing that does barely anything to ease him because it feels like you’ve put on that mask you put in front of others—professional and orderly—and Miguel didn’t want to be seen as just a mere coworker, let alone your boss, to you.

His pride bites at his ankles. Lies coming out of his lips too regularly, he had to fib to Gabriella the morning after her sleepover when she asked about the date that you had fallen sick and weren’t able to make it. The disappointment on her face mimicked yours too eerily. She asked him if they were going to reschedule it. Miguel could only shrug his shoulders—he wasn’t even sure if you wanted anything to do with him after that event. 

At least nothing changed with you and his daughter. He’d still home to an apartment with you helping with homework or her helping with dinner or tucking her into bed. That’s all he could ask for right now.

Miguel still had the chance to redeem himself this week. There was the annual banquet held at a banquet hall to celebrate the yearly achievements Alchemax and those associated had accomplished, as well as discussing major plans for the future. It was a boring, yet formal event used for connections and idle chatter, something Miguel usually didn’t look forward to. Lyla suggested to him to convince you to go and that Gabriella would just have a one-time babysitter while you got to enjoy (or in your case, put up) with his company as he redeemed himself best as possible. You’re not one to talk with others you’ve never met, so he knew that you would most likely stick by his side for a sense of familiarity. 

It took a while, but you murmured you’d go under your breath to shake him off your tail. Miguel was elated, but it was quickly shut down halfheartedly by the reminder that you were still somewhat upset by Sunday’s incident, saying you’d take a cab to the banquet instead of driving with him like he offered.

No matter, as long as you were there by his side.

Miguel made sure that this time, he’d be out the door much earlier than the last, promising to never keep you waiting longer than a minute. A text on his phone pings that you’re near the back entrance, where the parking lot was so it’d be easier to find you. He swerves a little too harshly into the lot—either from nervousness or excitement or both—at the mention and had spotted you near the staircase adorned in a floor-length blushed, ivory pink halter gown with luminescent tulle, making you look like the human embodiment of an ocean pearl.

His eyes are so fixed on you that he didn’t realize he almost knocked himself straight into an oncoming BMW. The owner, a crabby old man he recognizes from human resources, swears and honks at him, making Miguel hide his face before hurriedly parking a little more safely. 

When he approaches you, he drinks you in your full glory. Everything about you is so fresh… so exhilarating. You’ve done your hair with a couple of clips this time, with more subtle jewelry this time. Your makeup looks tidy and perfect and Miguel enjoys the way it emphasizes your best features instead of morphing them. If only he was wiser on Sunday, he would’ve been able to savor a different version of you in blue. 

Nevertheless, you still manage to take his breath away with just a simple breath like you always have. It’s just that it was only recently had Miguel realized you had that ability and he’d be alright experiencing it again and again if it was with you.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you say and wave a soft wave in front of his face to break his trance. Somehow, you begin to grow self-conscious. Perhaps he didn’t like it? Maybe it was too revealing… the slit at the halter neckline did somewhat peek at your cleavage and you weren’t used to baring your shoulders out. “I-is everything okay?”

Miguel blinks a couple of times. His surroundings finally come into focus like your figure, making him realize how long he had been staring. “Apologies. I… never got to tell you this on Sunday, but I hope to do it now, (Y/N)... ” he clears his throat and straightens his posture, remembering to act everything out as practiced, before softly whispering with evident fondness that, “You look beautiful, tonight.”

A spark of surprise shocks your features for a brief moment, before your usual modesty is displayed again. Eye contact is broken, for you can’t fathom the thought of someone like Miguel O’Hara, favored in every possible way, would be complimenting you so casually. “Oh um. Thank you,” you choke out halfheartedly. 

Miguel leans over slightly over your figure and tucks a lock of stray hair behind your ear. If he wanted to truly make up for what happened, he was going to have to go all out tonight, even if that meant rocketing out of his comfort zone. He just barely catches you hitching a breath at the semi-intimate of physical contact as he tries his best to hide his own when he murmurs in your ear again. 

“I’m not saying it out of manners, I’m saying it factually,” he mumbles, eyeing the passersby that stare in wonder at you. Some ego swells inside of him at the jealous looks that are given to him. “You’ve bewitched me and many others already.”

You stray your gaze away at him with your hands fiddling at the skirt of your dress. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for the dress, by the way,” you murmur timidly. “I’ve never heard of a brand called Lyla, but I admit, this dress of theirs is rather nice.”

Miguel furrows his brows at the mention before Lyla briefly appears on your head, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up before disappearing. It doesn’t take Miguel long to realize that Lyla had shipped something so pristine to you without his permission, though he supposes that she had done him and you a favor given how majestic you look tonight. 

He lets out a soft breath of a chuckle before shaking his head. Maybe he’ll give her some upgrades in return.

You turn your head behind you, not knowing what he was looking at. “Is something wrong? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, no. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts…” Miguel interjects before offering his arm to you. “We should get going. I’d hate for a dress like this to go to waste for only my eyes.”

Internally, Miguel wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and have you all for himself, savor your every move tonight, have you and him be the only ones in this place. He didn’t want anyone to look towards your direction and have you look at anyone else besides him. A little venomous thought of people not realizing you had so much more potential than they realized embeds in himself, and that their awe for tonight was too artificial. He wanted more and to give you more, but then again, he’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, the impossible man that somehow does it all and faces the consequences head on. He can only offer a regular day citizen like you so much.

But for now, he’ll make do with what he can. Not as Spider-Man this time, but as Miguel O’Hara.

a/n ; hi yeah don't panic, there'll be a part three lmfao i lied lolol. most likely it'll be the last part to this little series i've got going, too, since i think making it a fully fledged series would kind of lead some things astray for me. that doesn't mean the end of the miggy o'hare writings, however! still will most definitely attempt to write for him bc bro's GLORIOUS

thank you all for the patience for part ii, and i hope to see that part iii comes out asap! i'll give updates for it as always, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and infinitely appreciated ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ !

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @toofsfairys @raeisthebae (for those with strikethroughs, i'm not able to tag you for some reason :(!)

[devilfic]

part five of this series dedicated to @aspenaspid​ because they asked so, so nicely

cw: 18+ mdni, implied masturbation (m), non-sexual bondage... technically. it definitely didn’t start that way, miguel’s definitely got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut.

miguel cannot look you in the eyes right now.

you’re suspended above the crime scene in a web stronger than your own, and it’s hard to see you the same after what he’d done. it should’ve drained him, made him immune, or at least exhausted his desire for you a bit. and you’re none the wiser, of course, and he’s the only bearer of shame, but he’s watching you wriggle and writhe and he’s struggling not to turn back around and portal himself out of there before he made a mess of his suit again.

jessica had since subdued her anomaly, the one you both had come for, and found miguel standing at the far back of the scene with his mouth set in a hard line, “you might wanna take a sample of that web before we head back. villain’s webbing is double the strength of anything I’ve seen. if you can reproduce it, could be useful.”

it would be useful, yes. the synthetic webbers in the spider-society could definitely benefit. his own webs had their perks, but he imagines what he could do if he had access to something this strong. they’re strong enough to hold you captive, thin enough to look translucent. the white strings knot around your ankles, your wrists and chest, pressing deep into your flesh even as you tug and tug and tug. you keep tugging, growing winded with a fine sheen of sweat across your brow, groaning and whining for someone to just cut you out, that you’d do anything for someone to just run their talon down the axis of your chest and cut you free, catching on your suit in the process and ripping a hole for him to just tear-

you groan even louder this time, “can someone get me out, please?”

jessica laughs, pats miguel’s shoulder, “think I’ll leave this one to you.”

miguel whips his head to her, “me? you’re the one that got them in this mess. you cut ‘em out.”

but she’s already on her way, fashioning a portal out of thin air, “they’re your assistant.” and she falls through before miguel has the chance to argue.

there’s a lot less people around now. this universe’s spider had been tied up on the brooklyn bridge and someone was heading out to get them down, so it was just you and miguel and a spattering of police assessing the damage to the city. you blow a stray piece of hair out of your face and whine, “miguel.”

he swallows. maybe cutting you out sooner than later would be for the best.

you’re suspended horizontally, laid back in the bed of webs spread eagle. he uses his own webs to swing up and onto the surface, careful to keep from getting himself caught, and crawls his way over to you on all fours. he reaches your ankles first and extends a talon to snip away the webbing. it falls apart with a little effort.

as soon as your legs are free, you draw your knees to your chest and sigh and miguel has to look away before he gets any ideas. he crawls toward your wrist next, but hesitates. you’re looking up at him with such doe eyes that he feels his hand tremble a bit, “are you hurt?”

you glance away, suddenly a little irritated, “no. I barely got in on the action before that asshole webbed me up like this. he was gonna eat me.”

miguel raises an eyebrow, “eat you?”

“you should’ve seen the guy. he was huge, had fangs just like yours and six more legs.”

miguel frowns. a giant mutated spider appears in his mind, hovering over you with drooling fangs positioned over your throat, prepared to devour you whole. he was sure he didn’t look much different with a villain in his grasp. “just like mine?”

you turn back to him, eyes searching his own. it seems you both are remembering when his teeth sunk into your arm days ago. “not exactly... one fang was the size of my head,” something that big would’ve killed you with one drop of venom, “I tried picturing you as him to sweeten my imminent death, but he wasn’t nearly as good-looking.”

a comment like that would’ve usually had him cutting a hole in the web just to watch you fall to your demise, but hovering over your body (your trapped body, with nowhere to go, and a tantalizing view of your throat on display) had him thinking... other things.

he crouches on a single line of web, hunching his body over you until he blots out the light of the city above you, until his shadow overtakes you and your eyes widen. he places one hand by your head. his lips part slowly, naturally, revealing the very tips of his fangs to you. he watches your breath quicken and your throat bob with a hard swallow. if he’d had 24 hours to get over the images of you he’d conjured up to get him off, you both would’ve been back in nueva york by now.

but it’s been about an hour since he’d spilled into his hand over you for the fourth (or fifth? or sixth?) time, and none of it compared to seeing you like this.

“oh, really?” his voice rasps low.

for once, for once, he’s caught you off guard.

it was no doubt he was bigger than you. and when he wanted, he could be frightening. but even when he tried—and oh, he tried in the beginning, hoped it’d scare you away—you never wavered. it irritated him then. he’d wanted to make you shake.

and now you’re looking up at him and it’s not quite fear, but it stings like an electric current between you. you’re not quick to quip like usual. he can hear the tremor in your breathing. there are police sirens abound but it might as well be completely silent the way you zero in on him.

he’s committing it all to memory in the event his shame can’t keep his hand from finding its way back into his pants later.

you fill your chest with air and arch your back, a movement that makes his brain short-circuit, just to release your sweet breath and fall back into the webs again, “if I didn’t know any better,” you begin, eyes trailing up from his talons curling around the web by your face to his eyes, “I’d say you were trying to get me excited, mr. o’hara.”

his eyes narrow into slits, “what happened to ‘sir’?”

your face breaks out into a smile so triumphant that he realizes you’d done that on purpose, had tried out that “sir” to see if he liked it, not just to tease him. and now you had him hovering over you with his teeth bared like he had no sense. you were insufferably smug. he could feel how pleased you were, the way your body eased into the webs and each and every twist of your body traveled back to his fingers, overwhelming his senses. you’d caught him in a web of your own.

“if I call you sir, will you let me go?”

miguel doesn’t see it but he hears the sound of you stretching your fingers, making no attempts to free yourself anymore. he feels one of your knees brush his hip and wonders if the web will stay intact if he portals the both of you out like this. he needs it. to research, of course.

“I could just leave you here, let them handle you.” he nods to the people down below, forcing himself not to react.

“it would be just like you to leave right before it gets good.”

“that implies ‘it’ was ever gonna happen.”

your eyes flash with something. miguel watches your forehead wrinkle, then smooth over once more, “you’re right. maybe I should take web-slinger up on his offer when we get back, then.”

web-slinger... hit on you?

miguel’s fist clenches and before he realizes it, the webs underneath his hand snap and his arm falls through, throwing him off balance and dropping his full weight on top of you. he tries to gather his bearings but suddenly something is touching his face—you, your hand that had broken free when he’d closed his talons into a fist at the thought of patrick o’hara (oh, you’d definitely done that on purpose) and you—and holding it an inch apart from your own. he waits with bated breath, all at once at your mercy.

you tuck a stray hair behind his ear and he all but full-body shudders, “don’t worry. you’re the only o’hara for me.”

part six

[echantedtoon]

For the DILF requests. We need more Urami content out there. DILF Urami. So if you happy to write something for your Angel clone AU how Sekido is just shocked, annoyed his much older self is getting affection and attention that would be great. Even if its a little bit NSFW where its implied Urami hit 4th base or got kisses well before he dud. Urami rubbing it in or giving Sekido heavy lidded looks would be gold.

(Warnings for spicy stuff implied, wounds mentioned, maybe mentions of cannibalism and blood. Karaku IS his own warning. Possibly some innuendos.) @hantengudelulu

Rage was quite a feeling. A very strong feeling to be exact.

Many things could cause it. Stubbing your toe on something. Accidentally dropping your food. Your wife refusing to get intimate with you-

"This night was a waste of time!!"

The jingling of metal against metal fell through the home, echoing off the trees sounding off alongside the footsteps angrily stomping about.  The forest practically silent as the man walked his path towards his destination. The air tense and thick with the bubbling volcano ready to explode that was his emotions. The silence palpable as if the animals could sense his rage and stayed quiet to not risk becoming his next target. He's already lost count how many people he ate or ripped apart in his anger. 

"Can you not yell into the darkness?," a voice next to him asked bored. "It's not like it'll make a difference sadly."

Instantly red eyes snapped to his blue eyes counterpart. "Shut UP, Aizetsu! Five weeks staking out that dock waiting for a stupid merchant ship just for that botanist to not know a dam thing about the blue spider lily!!"  The blue eyed demon didn't flinch at his outburst having already been used to this tantrum as he dragged frustrated claws down his face.  "It was a total waste of time!!"

"We don't have to worry about it for now. It's no longer a concern-"

"That's not the point of Master Muzan is disappointed by our lack of progress!! We can't just keep disappointing him like this do you realize- ?!"

He bristled as an arm suddenly suddenly slung around his shoulders and pulled him against the side of a third look alike. "C'mon, Sekido. You need to relax. It's not the end of the world."

In response he shoved Karaku away from him with a growl, instinctually gripping his khakkhara."Your arrogance is infuriating! Don't take out shortcomings so lightly."

With a sigh from Karaku, they backed off knowing well enough that if they pushed it would only escalate with Sekido and while that was entertaining especially when Urogi or Karaku was desperately bored with nothing to do, now was not really a good time to make him go off, especially after a failed mission that literally took weeks to complete. The real challenge was trying to avoid the inevitable blow out that would surely happen later. Whether from Sekido or Muzan was left up to anybody's interpretation at this point. 

Perhaps in an attempt to cheer up the tense atmosphere, Karaku smirked at him. "Well on the positive side, I'm sure our darling little wife is gonna be happy to see us.~ It's been so long since she's been with any of us, and surely she's tired of listening to those old men this whole time."

If anything the mere mention of their wife(or more accurately the woman whom they labeled as theirs), was enough to distract Sekido's temper to give a silent pause to the thought much to his counterparts reliefs. Just the thought of sinking into the soft pale flesh- It was enough to drive a man crazy. An unsteady inhale was taken in, only to be slowly released. Yes. The sweet taste of blood between his teeth would be a satisfying change. 

Karaku bit his tongue to not chuckle at the sudden briskness in Sekido's strides, but decides not to comment on it considering what the pent up demon was already probably thinking about. The night's travel was short, quick, but with the considerable distance, it would still take them until near morning to get back to a certain house that lay nestled in the middle of a forested area, far away from prying eyes for them to not be noticed but close enough to civilization for convenience. The moon overhead rose, ruled the center skies for a few hours, then began to lower herself to ready for her brother the sun to rise. The darkness soon to cease and the light that burns to arrive.

The movements and the looming dread hanging over their heads would soon be no more as the monsters with sins crawling down their backs approached. The lone home sitting nestled between a clearly and trees as if guarded by the outstretched branches. The sight caused both a relief for shelter from the incoming sun and a greater need to get inside- His rapid footsteps approached the door. Get to the promised flesh. His hand grabbed the door. And bury himself deep withi-

The anger demon froze as a sound reached their ears.

A woman's high pitched squeal followed by a series of highly joyful giggles.

Any normal human wouldn't have heard such a thing but to creatures that had very heightened senses. Many paused, three pairs of eyes exchanged looks as Sekido still had his hand on the door. For a few seconds there was a shared silence before the grip increased on the door. The door was thrown open loud enough to elicit a reverberated noise and all sounds quieted inside the home altogether as the demons walked inside. No one was in sight within the first part of the home but judging by the fresh fruit bowl on the table, there was someone living here. 

"Where are they?" 

"She's probably entertaining them in the next room," Urogi piped up having to carefully squeeze his wings in through the doorway to avoid his feathers getting pulled off. "You know how clingy the old men can be."

"Oh, Honey!~ We're home!," Karaku's voice shouted out.

Realistically though, they all knew where she was. It was a small three room home with only a bedroom and bathroom through the only other door in the home. But wasn't it strange that the silence persisted? Until the sounds of faint but frantic shuffling was heard and a moment later the door openef wide open for all to see the woman on the other side. But she looked in shambles. Strands of white hair practically dragging the floor and frazzled, clothes wrinkled and thrown together, and a slight look of panic on her face although she tried to play it off with a smile.

"Oh.. You're back!" Any attempt to quickly smooth out her garments was in vain. "H-How was your trip?"

Instead of talking Karaku merely smirked and skunk two arms around her. It made the irritation of Sekido's twinge slightly just seeing him shamelessly pulling her against him as his hands roamed her sides, pressing her to his front. Shameless nymphomaniac. 

"Nevermind that!" Urogi practically laughed at her, also nudgeing up against her other side, not being the least bit bothered with shoving his face into her clothed shoulder blades. "You look awfully funny! Like you just rolled out of bed!"

Oh how he saw that flash of nerves across her face. "Oh...Well it's still pretty early in the morning after all! I wasn't expecting you four back all of a sudden!"

Suspiciousness clouded Sekido's mind as red eyes practically undressed her. Something about her was off. Even if she had been woken up by them, there's no way she could've been squealing and laughing in her sleep. And that's when Urogi paused...Inhaling deeply by her shoulder before pulling his head back with a confused expression.

"Oi. Why does your shoulder smell like blood?"

Three things happened within the time he said that. The three of them paused at his words. Karaku's hand reached out and in one fluid motion yanked her top apart to expose her collar bone making a surprise squeak croak out of her. And Urami finally decided to make his appearance. Just casually leaving the bedroom, ducking down to fit with his height and totally unbothered, just walked out into the room.

"How was the mission? Any news to report to Lord Muzan?," he asked.

 No one answered him. Too busy oogling at the red wound that stood out against pale flesh. A bite mark. A very, LARGE bite mark. Too big to be one of theirs but at the same time obviously from a predator. Sunk in enough to break skin, but not enough to be fatal. Smack dab over her right shoulder. There was a stunned shock with a few of them exchanging glances. ... Before simultaneously one by one heads turned to give knowing looks at Angel whom looked red enough to match Sekido's eyes, and then to Urami whom still looked unbothered by everything, as if their wife turning up with big marks the size of a housecat was a normal thing. Eventually one of them broke the silence-

"Oh. .. That's why you were occupied," Aizetsu simply stated seeming unusually calm for this.

"HOW?!" Karaku blurted out next grabbing her cheeks with an awestruck look on his face. "Urami's  built like a dam horse!! How'd he make it fit?!"

"KARAKU, THAT'S A DISGUSTING QUESTION!!"

"I NEED DETAILS, WOMAN! This is an important matter!! Seriously, did you both even go that far or was it more forepl-"

"FINISH THAT SENTENCE AND I'LL PUSH YOU INTO THE SUN!!" 

No one's words reached Sekido's ears. A ringing sound being the only thing he could hear, as his head slowly turned to face his older counterpart. Urami simply stood there arms crossed watching the spectacule that was before him, but turned when he felt eyes on him. Sekido's body shook with seething rage, fangs clacking together, and the grip on his staff threatened to break the dam thing. 

His hand shaking as he pointed to him. "You. Did. NOT!!"

Urami was silent. Just obversing Sekido with a calm, half lidded look.. before smirking at him. Sekido's top boiling over the moment that old bastard winked at him. His hands curled up into fists, angry veins buldged throughout his body. 

"Oi, Urami!," Karaku's voice shouted out, "How'd you do it? You'd kill her if you tried anything!"

His eyes turned back to Karaku..one hand curling out to gesture his pointer finger in a 'come here motion'. A moment later Angel walked over, as red as a tomato pulling her dress back over her shoulders, and into the outstretched arms of Urami whom simply just kept her by her side. Sekido's eyes nearly budging from their sockets.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Besides it's not your size, but how you use it."

"YOU'RE FUCKING LYING!! THERE'S NO WAY THAT'S PHYSICALLY EVEN REMOTELY POSSIBLE!! YOU'RE JUST TRYING TO COMPENSATE FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO PERFORM PROPERLY!!"

"Hm. Is that so? It would sound to me that you're the one compensating for NOT being allowed to 'perform' at all."

VOLCANIC ERUPTION 

Angel flinched and everyone seemed taken aback by the VERY loud, and very angry roar that erupted from Sekido's throat as he screamed in frustration and pent up aggression.  "I. HAVE. FUCKING. HAD. IT!!" A hand pointed to Angel. "You allowed Karaku to consummate the marriage! These three are allowed to touch you when they please but I am left on the side like a begging dog in heat!! What else do I need to know at this point!?"

The bedroom door opened once more making Sekido snap around. His jaw dropped once again. Hantengu trembled as he staggered out shaking like a leaf whilst trembling hands attempted to tie his obi back around his disheveled yukata. But seeing Sekido's stare made him stop with a cower. Sekido only stared mouth open at him.

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!!!"

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

July 21st

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1. Hiii!! I was looking for a fic where Wei Ying was captured and his memory was forcefully being shown to the cultivation world in a mirror. I think in one of the scenes he begged them to not do it which made the others think that he was indeed a criminal but well he was not. I have been searching for it but can't find it anywhere. @yilinglaobunny

FOUND? Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

For no 1 there is a whole collection you could try

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2. Hi! First, thank you for all your work!! It is so helpful.

I wanted to know if you could help me find a fanfic where Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao and Nie mingjue all swap bodies with each other. It seems to me that Lan Xichen becomes Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao becomes Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang becomes Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue becomes Meng Yao.

Thank you in advance for your time

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3. There was a fic where it was implied that Wei Wuxian was s*xually (sexually) abused in Yunmeng Jiang as punishment (Not explicitly shown). So when he gets to do punishment with Lần Wangji in Cloud Recesses he gets on his knees and starts untying Lan Wangji’s sash, which spooks him and yards yadda happens Lan Wangji reports it to Lan Xichen. Can’t find it, would love to revisit

FOUND? Hands a tent, he is praying or he is crying by Amity_Bell (M, 6k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse)

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4. Hello! I'm looking for a wangxian fic where Wei Ying ask Lan Zhan for his first born. I think Wei Ying is a witch? Thank you! @seke19

FOUND? 💖 spider lilies to sunflowers by cicer (E, 33k, wangxian, ABO, YL WWX, fairy tale elements, mpreg, omega LWJ, lwj topping from the bottom)

FOUND? take a sip of my secret potion (one taste and you'll be mine) by sweetlolixo (E, 16k, WangXian, F/F, Dark Fairytale, Witch WWX, Princess LWJ, Rule 63, Female LWJ/Female WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Dragon LWJ, Identity Porn, Love Potion/Spell, Pregnant WWX, Childhood Friends, Fem!LWJ has a Dragon Dick!)

FOUND? A Sorta Fairytale With You by Speak_friend (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fluff and Smut, Fairy Tale Elements, Hand Jobs, animal injury (he got better!))

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5. Hello!! Im not sure if this was already asked but im looking for this multichapter fic where all in the first chapter, it is revealed that jiang cheng imprisoned wei ying and a-yuan in this shed i think?? But after years wei ying manages to free a-yuan and he runs to the cloud recesses to get help @draconislyra

FOUND? on restitution by glitteringmoonlight (M, 98k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, WangXian, Dark JC, not for jc fans, Captivity, Angst with a Happy Ending, no reconciliation though, definitely no reconciliation, Crossdressing, Non-Graphic Torture, Violence)

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6. hiii admins ! i read a wangxian fic a few motnhs ago that i cannot find for the life of me :( it was modern with magic au, where wangji can see auras (mostly dark auras for anger) and red strings of fate form between people. He works at a garden shop/plant nursery with his brother and huaisang, wuxian works at a tattoo parlour with wen ning and wen qing + is a single dad to wen yuan afaik

FOUND! Demon Ink by Jade_Valentine (E, 189k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Tattoo Artist WWX, Magic, Chaotic Bisexual WWX, Demisexual LWJ, Slow Burn, Angst, Mutual Masturbation, Domestic Fluff, Welcome to my LWJ & NHS friendship agenda, Shower Sex, Brief mentions of past Lan Bro abuse at the hands of LQR, wangxian family feels, WWX is the Best Dad Ever, WWX's canonical abuse at the hands of YZY, Blow Jobs, Slight Make-Up Kink) Flower shop and tattoo parkor au LZ sees Dark energy coming off WY

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7. hii im looking for a bottomji fic wherein lwj and wwx was cursed with a sex curse fighting the xuanwu and lwj end up getting preggo magically 😂 ive been looking for fics with the same premise through ao3 but i seem to be looking at the wrong tags?? please help me 😭🙏 thank you so much!!❤️❤️❤️

FOUND? Questions at Dusk by ExtraPenguin (E, 18k, WangXian, Top WWX, Bottom LWJ, Mpreg, Lactation Kink, Class Issues, Hero Complex, Baby Animals)

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8. Hi! This is fic finder. It was modern au where the jiang is assasin. They have a restaurant as their base camp. WWX is YLLZ, top assasin with the jiang. But then he retires. LXC and LWJ is a thief. They work together with LQY (either LQY or MY or both). I think LWJ and WWX civilian self is dating each other. The lans gets a mission ro break into the wens. WQ at first help them but she betray them because the wen threatening her. The wens know LWJ existance and kidnapped him to lure HGJ (i think it was to lure his alter ego not YLLZ). But then WWX is the one who rescue him. I think i mixed two fic @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! all the problems we could solve by Stratisphyre (T, 20k, WangXian, JC & WWX & JYL, LXC & LWJ, Modern, Getting Together, somewhat non-linear, Fluff and Humour and Violence, Meet-Cute, Identity Porn, Thieves, a bit of a leverage vibe)

NOT FOUND You Only Die Twice by Mikkeneko (T, 11k, WangXian, Assassins/Spies, Assassins & Hitmen, Modern AU, Mafia AU, Action, Moderate Violence, a lot of people die but no named characters, not exactly lan sect friendly, not exactly lan sect critical either, Assassin LWJ, Kindergarten Teacher WWX, coffee shop meet cute, Let LWJ Say Fuck, slightly cracky, Non-Linear Narrative)

NOT FOUND🔒 (i've got) trouble in mind by seularen (E, 76k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, modern w magic, heist au, thief WWX, forger LWJ, consigliere JGY, epistolary, long-distance relationship, d/d elements, Canon wangxian kinks, happy ending)

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9. Hello! I'm looking for a fic that was in my bookmarks but now I can't find it. The only thing I remember is this excerpt where LWJ and WWX where dueling/sparring and LWJ says yield while WWX is enthralled by his beauty and maybe says out loud how beautiful LWJ is. Thanks for your hard work!!!!!!

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10. hello im trying to find a married(?) wangxian fic where wei wuxian sees lan wangji talk to and hang out with a female lan member he doesn't recognize. he gets jealous and starts to think that lan wangji doesn't love him anymore. at the end they manage to clear the misunderstanding with the help of lan juniors @pleasehelpmesobad

FOUND! White Flag by incendir (T, 37k, WangXian, NHS/NZH, OMC/ OMC) from the Resolutions series by incendir

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11. Hello! Can you find a fic for me where wangxian want their own biological baby and find another lady to surrogate for them with the baby ending up being wei ying's and the lady's, and adopted into the lanclan by weiying and lanzhan?

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12. Pleasee!! help me find this fic. Sob okay so nsfw ask

Basically wangxian as usual is having loud af sex and literally everyone knows this now lqr is like why tf are they so loud. Then he decides that he's tired of them and goes and gets married to some man and literally at his wedding. Anyways, he finds out how good sex can be and wangxian is like, we can be louder than that @thatperson0-0

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13. oh my god i think i'm losing my mind... i just read this fic a few weeks ago, but i can't seem to find it anywhere!

wwx is a female in this and it's from lwj's pov, it wasn't finished i'm sure but idk if they decided to finish it in these weeks. they both go on a night hunt (?) and wwx gets cursed (?) or is hit with something and to help with that they both have sex. lwj confesses during it.

then later when they both are returning to cloud recess wwx asks lwj to forget about it but lwj is like 'i want to marry you'. wwx dismisses that saying 'you don't have to be responsible for this'. but lwj tries to persuade her but wwx keeps doding it and lwj thinks she doesn't want to be with him.

i really hope this work didn't go into hidden ones or is deleted :(

thank you so much for your work.

FOUND? ❤️ We'd roll and fall in green Series by x_los (G/E, 26k, WangXian, Gender Changes, Always a Different Sex, Accidental Marriage, Marriage Festivals, Holidays, Awkwardness, Fist Fights, Pining, Crushes, Sisters, Episode 7, mentioned canon-typical domestic abuse, mentioned canon-typical sexual violence (implication of minors), (not depicted just discussed as possibility), First Kiss, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Politics, School, Horror, Murder Mystery, Road Trips, Bitchy LWJ, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Competence Kink, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Self-Sacrifice, Battle Couple)

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14. I lost a fanfiction and I hope someone here can help me ;-;

It was wangxian set to marry with Wei Ying leaving the Jiang Sect before meeting Lan Zhan. He kept meeting Jiang Disciples send to spy on him. I’m afraid I don’t remember anything else :( @kanrax-blog

FOUND? Bitter Endings; New Beginnings by miixz (T, 7k, wangxian, WN & WWX, major character death, ABO, Arranged Marriage, Unrequited Love, Stalking, Not JC Friendly, Unrequited JC/WWX, Alpha JC, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, No War au, Wēn Remnants Live, Brothers WWX & WN, Light Angst, Fluff, Falling In Love, endgame wangxian)

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15. Hi! For fic finder I am looking for a fic which is Cloud Recesses study arc au. In it WWX grew up either as a disciple of Baoshan Sanren or his parents were alive and he travelled with them; ie he did not grow up in Lotus Pier. He hears about Cloud Recesses and tries to sneak in to explore but Wangji catches him. It happens to be the start of the lectures so WWX pretends he is part of the Jiang group and Yanli and Cheng play along. WWX goes on to charm everyone and is oodles above his classmates in knowledge and sword skills. I can’t remember how the story ends, whether it is just the lecture arc or if it goes into the Sunshot Campaign. Please help, thank you!

FOUND! Become Tomorrow by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 39k, wangxian, BSSR/LY, Alternate Universe, a story full of tragic pining gays, and one chaotic gremlin, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR’s disciple)

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16. I am looking for a modern fic where Lan Wangji ran a bakery and Wei Wuxian was a doctor, or possibly vice versa. The doctor ran in before his shift to grab some treats for his nursing staff and I think it was before the bakery opening hours but the baker let them in anyway. The doctor began to stop by more frequently and possibly taste tested for the baker (an excuse to hang around). Would love to read this again, thank you! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND! crystalized by gusuvibes (M, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Bakery, Pining, Getting Together, Baker LWJ, Nurse WWX, Zizhen in a STARRING ROLE, Bunnies With Bad Names, Elaborate Descriptions of Delicious Baked Goods, Frottage, Eventual Smut, SexyBakingTime)

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17. Hiiiii. Please can you help me find a fic. I dont remember much of it - just vague parts.

It was a time travel fic in which wangxian went back to their teenage years and were trying to set things right. I remember 1 part in which wangxian was trying to decide what to do with small mxy and wwx was against bringing him to cloud recesses. I believe it was because he was insecure about having mxy close to lwj when in their future, lwj was married to/ intimate with mxy's body.

Please see if you can find it or anything similar 🙏

FOUND?🔒 Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator) There's a bit in the last chapter (of the first fic in the series) where WWX remembers MXY & rules out bringing him to the Lan as an option due to awkwardness, & sends him to WQ instead

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18. Hi there, request for the fic finder? Lost the tab I had it on and can’t remember the name. Only made it to chapter two.

It was Huaisang POV? First chapter was Wen Ning helping him sneak outta the Wen Indoctrination place, second chapter was Huaisang trying to break Wen Ning out of the Jin Basement/jail. Idk what happened in chapter three, lost the tab before I could read it.

Distinctly remember Huaisang whacking a dude over the head with a table in chap 1.

Cheers :)

FOUND? Jailbreaking by CullenBlue (T, 21k, WN & NHS, Canon Compliant, POV NHS, NHS Is A Little Shit, Cinnamon Roll WN, Fierce Corpse WN, Ghost General WN, References to Heavens Official’s Blessing, References to The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System, NHS insulting the Wen Clan’s taste in interior Decorating, Mentions of Murder, WN made a friend by talking about his childhood trauma, BAMF WN, Panic Attacks, mentions of gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence in the Name of Comedy, Trauma, Is NHS taking anything seriously? who knows, Bromance)

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19. hello, this is a ff request. i think it's a royalty au, might have been an ongoing series while i read it. i remember that wangxian get married, wwx births twins, but falls unconscious/ill after giving birth. i may be mixing fics up, but i think one of the children is a-yuan, while the other is an OC who is born with weak health. there are discussions for moving him to yunmeng as an older child due to the warmer weather. i think wq married nmj and moved to qinghe, jc and nhs are in yunmeng, and jyl and jzx are in lanling. mxy, whom wwx rescued and "adopted", follows wwx to gusu when he married lwj. again, idk if all of this is the same fic, or if i have mixed them up, but i hope this rings a bell for someone, many thanks!

FOUND! Lost in Diplomacy by Subtleladybird (M, 90k, WangXian, Historical, Royalty, Imperial Pair, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Harem, Politics, Angst, Mpreg, Miscommunication, Brotherly Love, Not really a harem, more like one spoiled non-rival, Time Skips, Pregnancy, Violence, Childbirth, Miscarriage, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Married Couple)

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20. Hi FicFinder! This is my first time requesting for a fic to be found, so I'm sorry if I'm bad at describing TvT

The fic I'm looking for is basically JGY spikes the Lan's tea during the Sunshot Campaign, and it results in JC and JYL thinking that WWX got r*ped (raped) by LWJ. It was found consensual in the end, tho after getting WQ to look at it. Also, there's JGY redemption iirc?

Thx sm <333 @diablolunaticofthemoon

FOUND! The Teapot Plot by ToxicAngel13 (M, 52k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Misunderstandings, Plots, protective Jiang siblings, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Damn Jins, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pre-Burial Mounds, Potential for M-Preg, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots Everywhere, LWJ ’s Biting Kink, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective WQ, JGS is his own warning, Protective JYL)

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[nino-rox]

TASM Peter Parker x Male Bottom Reader

Content Warning : NSFW Smut, sexual themes (Blow Job), The Amazing Spider-Man AU, Top Peter Parker and Bottom Male Reader.

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post.

The door was locked, and sloppy sounds of someone making out could be heard. Peter grabbed Y/N’s ass and squeezed it as they aggressively made out. “You know, if you’re this into me, you could’ve just asked me out,” said Y/N between kissing Peter. “Haha, let’s go for a test run first,” Peter said as he slid his shirt off. Peter’s fingers ran through Y/N’s hair, pushing him down towards his cock. Y/N kissed Peter’s chest, feeling up every inch of his lean muscular body. As soon as Peter’s dick touched Y/N’s lips, Y/N immediately began deep-throating it, looking up at Peter with a look that clearly told him to fuck his mouth. Peter stroked Y/N’s long brown locks while thrusting his hips forward, grunting pleasurefully. Peter pulled Y/N closer to himself as he lifted one of his legs over his shoulder and pushed deeper into his throat. Peter held Y/N by his hair as he began to harshly fuck his face making Y/N gag on his dick. He started going faster and harder, thrusting his hips forward hard enough to make his balls slap against Y/N’s cheeks. Peter reached around Y/N’s neck with both hands forcing him deeper onto his cock, pulling out to admire Y/N’s fucked out expression and teary eyes.

“How are you still not done?” Y/N managed to say, coughing and letting his throat recover from the abuse. “I want more,” Peter said, sitting on the chair and spreading his legs wide, exposing his still-hard cock craving attention. Peter looked at Y/N, his eyes searching for approval. “Fuck yea,” Y/N said as he licked Peter’s shaft and balls from top to bottom. Y/N opened his mouth wide, so Peter’s cock slipped right inside, wrapping his fat dick around his soft and juicy tongue as Peter moaned, leaning his head back, his body dripping sweat and his mind overloaded by pleasure. Peter grabbed the back of Y/N’s head, pushing it further down, his knees shaking uncontrollably from all the fun he was receiving.

Peter’s body began to tense as he felt his climax building up. He groaned loudly as his body jerked violently, thrusting Y/N’s head deeper onto his dick. Y/N looked up at Peter with an expression that clearly told him he wanted more, begging him to keep fucking his throat. Peter grabbed Y/N by the hair, forcing him to throat even more of his fat cock, pulling out and thrusting back in. Peter’s whole body shook from pleasure as his load shot directly down Y/N’s throat, his orgasm overwhelming his body completely. His breathing became rapid as he moaned uncontrollably. Y/N pulled off, making a popping sound, cum dripping from the side of his mouth; he maintained eye contact with Peter as he licked and swallowed every last bit.

[imjustanasshole]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again? (Albus' Curse)

I've been working on a project for the HP, Marauders and Next Gen fandoms that I'm planning to post on ao3. Before I do so, I wanted to explain it a bit and post the prologue here, mostly to get some unbiased constructive feedback, but also to find other people who are interested on this subject as much as I am (and maybe become mutuals)!!

This project of sorts is a fanfic based on the 'a Potter falls for a Black in every generation' trope, with a touch of Slytherin-Gryffindor relationship angst and a slight 'In every other universe Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man and in every other universe, it doesn't end well' inspiration to it (because I love ITSV and ATSV), but in the HP universe, of course. The title is based on Would You Fall in Love with Me Again written by Jorge Rivera-Herrans for the Epic Musical, all the chapter titles are different lines from the song, and some scenes/dialogues will have similitudes with some lyrics as well.

As it is implied in the prologue (posted under the cut), Albus Severus Potter was born with the ability to gaze into people's past through their eyes, this way he finds the hard truths that surround his family and friends, and, most importantly, their ancestors, thus discovering that they've been doomed for decades (or even centuries). He carries this weight that threatens to either kill him or eventually make him go mad, mix that with an unimaginable power and a threat to the person he loves the most, and things are bound to blow up sooner or later.

The three main pairings are Jegulus, Drarry and Scorbus, but the 'main character', so to speak, is Albus Severus. In case there is any doubt, the two former couples don't have a happy ending (their outcome is canon-ish), therefore there is no inc*st of any kind (I've gotten this question asked when explaining this concept before, and... yeah, no). I plan to tell the story of these three couples from the P.O.V. of their respective Potter member, with a third-person omniscient narrator (but there might be some Black-Malfoy POVs, or even externals on certain occasions). There are background pairings such as Wolfstar, Dorlene, Rosekiller, Marylily (and perhaps some Pandalily as well), past casual Rosestarkiller, and others that I'd like to keep a surprise; in the Golden Trio Era I would include Romione, Linny, Deamus, past Dreo, and most probably other past/casual relationships; finally, I must say, I dislike a lot of the Next Gen ships that I've seen, and, honestly, Scorpius and Albus are going to be very much in their own bubble during their chapter, since is much heavier emotionally (and also more family-centered) than the two prior ones, which start in a slightly more light-hearted and innocent tone (even though their ending is quite dramatic), so, even though some background relationships will be present, they won't be as relevant as in the other parts of the story and, therefore, is not worth it for me to mention at the moment (they most probably will be tagged if this gets officially posted, though). I'd like to clarify that, even if the outcome for most of the couples is canon-compliant, the plot is not and the characters are more leaning toward their fandom characterizations as well (not completely OOC, though), most of them are queer and some of them are trans and/or gender non-conforming (including three out of six of the protagonists if I don't decide to make it even more of them). With this, I would like to take a stand against some attitudes that this fandom has had towards trans and queer people as of late, don't forget that we are the backbone of this community. Trans and queer people, along with POC, have created some of the most important and iconic parts of this fandom (and many others), don't erase us, don't dismiss us, don't forget us, and don't support new or old projects that JKR directly benefits from, please. Therefore, I'll be including some of my favorite headcanons/fanon interpretations in this fanfic, for example: Latino/Hispanic James, trans Regulus, ambulatory cane-user Remus, plus-size Lily, black Rosier twins, black and trans Hermione, queer Ron, mixed and trans Harry, gay Draco, trans Albus Severus, and many, many more (trust me, many more). All of this will be treated casually but it will be there because people who are not able-bodied, cisgender, white, straight, etc. also have a right to be present in stories without this being the only important part of their character. So fuck JKR, I don't owe her anything, we created this fandom, we made it what it is and it's ours, if you are not comfortable with any of this, I'm not interested in your feedback and I don't need you to keep reading any further, kindly go fuck yourself and get out of my blog.

And now, the prologue (I hope you enjoy it!):

Prologue: “Penelope”

(Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, Part I)

Albus is pretty sure it was written somewhere in the stars: every time, a Potter will fall for a Black and, every time, it will end disturbingly wrong. At first, he had thought that it was all in his head, it was not possible that they were bound to make the same error generation after generation, the forces of the universe wouldn't be so cruel. He surely had to be mistaken.

However, once he met his Scorpius, he understood. He knew he was doomed to tragedy, just like his father, his grandfather before him, and even his great-grandfather before them. He could see it in his father's eyes, so clear it pained him to foresee he would meet the same destiny, and so he had tried to avoid it. But what has been written can’t be averted, thus he fell for the Malfoy boy, and he was now paying the price.

Years ago, when they had discovered that Albus had this gift, he had anticipated nothing good could come of it. Seeing people’s pasts and even their ancestors' past was a disaster waiting to happen. Having such a connection with them that he felt as if he had been in the room for those memories haunted him, and made him troubled and closed off. Yet, his parents told him it was a gift, his healers said it was superior magic, his teachers called it an advantage. And, when Albus had confessed it to him in their third year, Scorpius assured him he would help him to be able to live with it. Then he had held him as he cried, after yet another horrifying vision of a life that wasn’t his own permeated his nightmares.

He deemed it a curse. It didn’t matter how many nights he spent in Scorpius’ arms, sobbing himself to sleep while the other boy whispered sweet nothings in his ear, Albus knew he was cursed. Cursed and powerful. He had to run away from Scorpius as soon as possible to not drag him down with him. Nevertheless, when Scorpius refused to give up on him, paying no mind to how many times he pushed him away, Albus accepted they were… Well, utterly fucked, simply put.

Regardless, Albus had never imagined they would end up like this.

He is barely standing, Dumbledor’s White Tomb behind him, the land around him destroyed, barely avoiding the Hogwarts castle itself but surely reaching most of its grounds. Scorpius stands about ten meters from him, his back to the castle doors from which terrified students have started to spill out. Harry won’t take too long to be there as well, he’s sure of it.

Albus doesn’t need the judgment in their eyes, he is aware of what he looks like, what this reminds them all of. His gaze focuses solely on Scorpius, though has it ever not done so?

“Albus,” He mutters, loud enough for only him to hear. He has scratches all over his face, but, for the way he feels hot liquid dripping down his head, Albus is certain his own condition is even worse. Scorpius drops his wand and tries to take a step forward. “Please…” He starts to beg but is swiftly interrupted. 

“Don’t!” Albus stops him immediately, taking a step back himself. “Stay back, Scorp!” He weeps, pleading. “Don’t make me do this…”

That's it for the prologue!! It's the shortest part out of the five of them, I'm currently writing chapter one (Jegulus' chapter), and after I finish I have to write chapter two (Drarry) and chapter three (Scorbus) that narrates the events before the prologue, there'll be an epilogue as well, but I'd like to keep its contents a secret... I can, however, reveal the chapter titles, which won't be shorter than 5k words but also won't be longer than 10k words (I'm anticipating):

How had they gotten here?

(first chapter post)

-Chapter One: “Is it really you, my love?” (James Fleamont Potter and Regulus Arcturus Black)

-Chapter Two: “I am not the man you knew” (Harry James Potter and Draco Lucius Malfoy)

-Chapter Three: “Don’t tell me you’re not the same person” (Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, Part II)

-[epilogue name: not revealed (but it exists)]

If even one person reads this and enjoys it, I'd be satisfied. Any constructive criticism is appreciated (and excuse me if there are any linguistic errors, english is not my first language), as well as some tips for posting on ao3 (it'd be my first time using the platform as a writer) and any other comments on the subjects that I spoke about in this post.

(also! playlist about the potter-black/gryffindor-slytherin love theory, still in progress)

[141wh0re]

Red Spider Lily- Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Pairings: Body Guard!Simon Riley x Rich Bitch!Reader (f)

TW: MDNI, DDDNE, depression, suicidal ideation, anxiety, minor character death, angst, substance abuse and addiction, implied narcissism from readers dad, alcohol consumption, vomiting (not detailed, just mentioned), hyperthermia, brief wlw, NSFW thoughts, soft Simon, grumpy x grumpier trope, fun fact: don't mix MDMA with cocaine lads and lasses (can result in hyperthermia), whump, fluff.

Let me know if I missed anything in the tags <3

Word Count: 2626

Summary: Simon retires from the SAS, taking on a job for a well known real estate tycoon's daughter, serving as her sole protector until her father can find a suitable man to sell marry her off to. Yet, instead of protecting her from outside dangers, he's finding the biggest danger is herself. Simon is determined to help you escape this life that was pre-ordained for you, and cure you of your disease. Addiction.

After nearly three decades spent in the military, Simon never expected to find himself here. Stuck in a contractual agreement, protecting and ensuring the safety and well-being of a bratty young woman with a wealthy family. It was almost insulting to him, had it not been for the hefty sum of money the woman's father wired to his bank account every week.

There were a few moments he'd almost made the rash decision to quit his job completely, and allow the someone else to look after this bitchy damsel.

But there was something that kept him here, keeping a protective eye on you and a firm hand at the small of your back in crowded rooms.

Beneath all the glitz and glam, partying and binge drinking, and the drugs... Simon saw you for what you were when you were at your lowest points.

A young girl who was forced into a lonely life of luxury. A girl who lost her mother too young and wasn't sure how to cope. A girl who yearned for her father's attention while he consumed himself in work, social gatherings, and public appearances. A girl who closed herself off from the world and kept everyone at arm's length so the venomous bite of abandonment would be less impactful when those people inevitably left her. A young girl who drowned her liver in alcohol while snorting enough blow to potentially kill her every weekend.

Simon knew you needed consistency in your life with substance. He'd watched his younger brother go through this plenty, repeating a vicious cycle of pain and torment for a fleeting moment with the impostor of joy in powder form.

He also knew you resembled that of a caged bird. Lonely, isolated, and detached from the rest of the world while you awaited either your death or an arranged marriage that would benefit your father's company, and potentially cushion his pockets a tad more.

As you emerged from the master suite of the penthouse, Simon heaved a resigned sigh, seeing you dolled up for the night ahead. Luxurious, private parties and public appearances to keep your name relevant in the tabloids and medias.

He leaned against the kitchen island, large arms crossed in his black button down, rich, honey-colored eyes fixated on you, and his signature black, surgical mask in place.

"Eat. You're not going out on an empty stomach." His deep, thick accented voice demanded. He nodded towards the plate on the counter, filled with chicken risotto with truffle sauce.

You scoffed in response to his authoritative tone before obeying anyways and climbing onto the bar stool, realizing it's probably best not to piss off your body guard.

"Where's it from?" You asked in a bland tone.

"Your kitchen." he answered gruffly as he poured an electrolyte packet into a bottle of water and set it beside your plate.

"Didn't know they taught ya to cook up truffle sauce in the military," you teased in that snarky tone he felt deep hatred for. Your metaphorical mask was going up early tonight.

"It's so cute how hard you work to save me from myself every weekend, big guy. Doesn't it get tiring?" You goaded before working at the small, yet filling dish before you.

Simon ignored your attempts to rile him up, knowing good and well you were fishing for a reason to indulge in your vices tonight. If you went out in a bad mood, it was all the more reason for you to fill your nose with booger sugar, and what better way to elevate yourself than starting it in a piss-poor mood, so your high will be that much better?

"Eat." Is all he replied with, leaving no room for questions or arguments.

As the night progressed, Simon kept a watchful eye on you, taking in your every move, expression, and breath while diligently scanning your surroundings to ensure your safety.

He watched as you finished another glass of champagne that was easily worth three months rent for his studio loft downtown.

You were pleasantly buzzed as you floated about the mansion, like you owned it, being the perfect little socialite you learned to be. Simon's dark, brooding presence loomed behind you, keeping you within at least three arm's lengths at all times.

"Going to the loo," you informed Simon as you spun on the toe of your red bottoms, heels clicking against the marble floor as you sashayed in the direction of the restroom.

You didn't even have to cast a glance over your shoulder to know Simon was already following behind you, keeping his eyes dutifully trained on you and your immediate surroundings.

Once outside the bathroom, Simon knocked on the door before entering and doing a sweep of the room before allowing you to enter.

You rolled your eyes at his precautious measures as he shut the door behind you. After clicking the lock in place, you promptly relieved yourself before standing at the vanity to wash your hands, reapply your red lipstick, then pull a little pick-me-up from your clutch.

Using the compact mirror, you pulled a tampon case from your clutch, producing a small baggie of white powder from within it, and emptied the contents of the baggie onto the mirrored surface as it sat on the vanity. You shook the small tampon case to receive a small straw, then used one of your many credit cards to neatly align the powder in a straight line.

Holding a finger to your left nostril, you plugged it and inserted the end of the straw into the right nostril, hovering over the powder as you inhaled with a strong pull from your nose and lungs.

The powder irritates your nose momentarily, causing it to scrunch and sniffle as the tingles pulse through your nasal passage. Bitterness coated your taste buds as the powder dripped down the back of your throat, earning a cringe from you as you shook your head, coughing slightly to aid the phlegm in easing down your esophagus.

You promptly cleaned up and did a final once over in the mirror, adamant not to stare too long and avoid your flaws. Clammy palms idly smooth over the material of your dress, trying to ensure you look your best, and avoid the nagging feeling at the back of your mind. Your darker-self trying to rear her ugly head and steal your fleeting moments of joy, and stir up the insufferable concoction of anxiety.

Finally, you emerged from the bathroom to be greeted with the sight of Simon stood with his back to the door, his large palm clasped firmly over his wrist.

He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what you were doing in the bathroom. Had it only been a quick stop, it would've been three minutes tops. But when you did your pick-me-ups, it took seven minutes.

He shouldn't know that, yet considering you're a relatively well-known public figure, he has to time every second you're not in his line of sight.

Simon stepped to the side, allowing you to exit the bathroom. His dark eyes gave a disapproving look as he surveyed your appearance.

"You've got a bit of sugar on your dress." He informed you, glancing down at the skirt of your black cocktail dress.

Your eyes hurriedly followed his, searching for the spot and swiping your hand over the material, earning an amused glint to flash in his normal unreadable eyes.

You groaned in annoyance once it became apparent he was messing with you, your hand quickly came up to slap his arm in defiance.

"Arse," you muttered under your breath. Simon's stoic demeanor momentarily gave way to show off a glimpse of underlying smugness.

Simon couldn't deny that you were a good looking woman, and he always found it hard to tear his gaze away from you, especially when you were a magnet for people. You had the natural ability to draw people in, even with your resting-bitch-face. Somehow, someway, everyone gravitated toward you.

It was very much the opposite of himself, all jagged edges, harsh lines with the repellent of a rabid Rottweiler. He found it fascinating on a personal level, but on a professional level, he loathed it.

He hated how people thought they could touch you, or be within three feet of you, or even the way they looked at you.

All he saw was greed, manipulation, and control. He was certain that you saw it too; he could see the faint flicker of disgust in your eyes when someone tried to cozy up to you for their own gain.

A part of Simon's heart ached to see your life full of so many people, yet none of them truly gave a shit about you. But he also knew you did it strategically, much like he had done for most of his life. Although, Simon's was done more coldly, you had a certain finesse about it. You held a sense of attainability, allowing people in just enough to keep control of, but never in deep enough for them to control you.

Behind the rich, spoiled brat, Simon marveled at the true strength and cunning you showed within this materialistic world. He could see the fox within you, calculating and sly as she was, planning her escape.

But the escape plan is what scared him. He heard every conversation you had with yourself, when you thought no one was listening.

You longed for a life without a name. Where you could fly under the radar, only keeping close to you those who truly cared. And as much as he tried to remain detached. He was concerned that one day, you'd find a remedy for that desire.. and take flight for the heavens.

Simon watched vigilantly over you as you remained perched on the outdoor couch with your group of girlfriends. His eyes never left you as your friend slipped a pill between your soft, red lips and did the tactless act of spitting her drink in your mouth to aid you in ingesting the pill.

Fuckin' hell, love. You need better friends.

He sighed inwardly, but heaved a quiet breath as he kept watch, wanting to shake his head in disappointment. But he knew you could feel his disapproving gaze prickling at your muted senses.

Your head dipped back in pleasure as your friend kissed down your neck, across your collarbones and back up to your lips. Half-lidded eyes remained trained on Simon as he stood within your sight, your eyes appreciatively raked over his form, taking in the way his muscles strained against the black fabric of his black button-down, and the way his slacks fit his tree-trunk legs perfectly.

He was a delicious sight and you were feeling ravenous, silently lusting over the man assigned to guard your life. The only man who gave a single shit about you.

Simon internally groaned, his hand clenching into fists behind his back as he watched the scene unfold before him. If he wasn't on duty right now, he'd be fucking you within an inch of your life, and make you pray to a merciless God. Himself.

You pulled yourself up from the couch on slightly unsteady legs, and sauntered over to him, only stopping in front of him once your hands were on his chest.

Simon gazed into your dilated pupils, already noticing the effects of your meeting with your little friend, Molly.

"Wanna go home," you demanded, pouting up at him.

"So soon? You looked like you were having a bit of fun." He replied in a neutral tone, keeping his aloof and disinterested persona in place.

"It's boring here," you whined, "wanna have fun. At home. With you."

"Mm, you wound me, bird. Here I thought you knew not to associate me in the same sentence as fun." He scoffed lightly, trying to keep the inflection of amusement from his tone.

He reached a large, callused hand to rest on the small of your back, acting as a stabilizer for your current state. Tingles ran up your spine as every nerve-ending desperately sought out the rest of his warm touch, igniting hot flames of desire along your spine, and pulsing directly to your rapidly slickening cunt from your heightened state.

Simon watched you closely once you were back in the safety of your home. He gauged you as you stripped off your dress carelessly, leaving it discarded on the floor, much like you had done with your heels the moment you were off the lift earlier.

He sighed as he watched you prance around the room topless, going about your business in your flimsy g-string.

"It's too bloody hot in this damn house," you whined as you adjusted the thermostat.

Your body swayed on unsteady legs, your skin glistened with intense perspiration. A wave of dizziness struck you, forcing you to lean against the wall momentarily while your heart rate soared, soft, frantic breaths escaped your lips while your vision blurred in a not so fun way.

Simon's eyes narrowed with concern before he immediately recognized your symptoms, having realized what would force this reaction out of you.

"How many lines did you do tonight?" Simon asked in a firm tone, scooping you up in his arms effortlessly, then rushed you into the bathroom.

He helped you kneel before the toilet, gathering your hair in one hand so you wouldn't have to focus on much.

"T-three," you panted out, feeling waves of nausea swell and your stomach to roil.

You retched into the toilet, firmly grasping the edges in a white-knuckle grip.

"And you only took one pill. Molly, right?" he asked with concern, gently rubbing his large palm at the center of your shoulder blades.

"Yeah," you croaked weakly before lowering your head again.

Simon grunted in frustration, yet remained vigilantly at your side, helping you through your sickness.

After a while, the vomiting finally ceased as he gently cleaned you up and propped your back against the bathtub. He quickly grabbed a washcloth and a disposable cup for mouth wash before handing it to you.

"Swish and spit in the cup, bird," he instructed while pressing the cold washcloth to your forehead, then moved it to the nape of your neck, trying to quickly cool your body down from the sudden onslaught of heat exhaustion.

You did as Simon instructed before handing it to him to dispose of. Your eyelids were hardly able to stay open, your body felt weak as if each limb was weighed down by imaginary anchors, and your skin felt like it was on fire.

Simon returned with a thermometer in hand, taking your temperature.

102 degrees.

"Fuckin' hell, bird." he murmured gruffly.

With quick efficiency, Simon collected you in his arms again, carrying you out to the oversized sectional in the living room.

You were already drifting in and out of consciousness, finding new items surrounding you each time you opened your eyes.

Simon worriedly administered an IV, a bin was placed beside the couch, cool washcloths littered across your body.

"What's all this?" you slurred nearly unintelligibly.

"Hyperthermia. Just rest. Let me take care of you," he answered in a softer tone than ever before, and had your body not been fighting for it's life, you might have caught the worry in his eyes and concern and care in his deep voice.

For several hours, Simon remained by your side, using a dropper to dispense electrolytes on your tongue, checking your temperature every hour, and gently running his fingers through your hair while you slept on the couch.

"M' gonna get you fixed up, bird... don't wanna see you like this anymore," he whispered in devotion, and pressed a tender kiss on your forehead.

| Next |

[prttyvalentine]

Hi, I have a little request: Could you write a human reader x Valentino?

The reader is a human than, because of a ritual's mistake, fall in Hell and meet Valentino. What would he do about them?

Thank you and Bye

omg I’ve had an idea similar to this just living rent free in my noggin for the longest time now!

I got a little carried away and ended up writing something a bit dark. I hope you don't mind :> Also I kinda scrapped the ritual bit, not on purpose I was just halfway through writing when I’d registered that you asked for that specifically lol. sorry!

Valentino x lost! human reader

TW: noncon touching, *implied* noncon, drugging (val’s pheromones,) abduction, val being a creep in general. don’t like, don’t read; it’s fiction.

no explicit smut but still mature content under the cut

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The headlights of cars passing by seemed to blind me. When I opened my eyes, I was somewhere else entirely.

All around me, everything was tinted red. The air itself was foul, smelling like sex and sin. In the sky, there was a pentacle where the sun would’ve been, shining through the murky air like a beacon. I could see people committing unspeakable crimes in the distance, acting them out in broad daylight as if it was the purge or something.

I was in shock, my eyes darting all over the place until something caught my attention- a red limousine with golden hardware and black and white details, and it was approaching slowly.

It felt like it was taking forever to stop, or maybe I was just dreading it. I got that gut feeling, that feeling where your stomach drops and your head is screaming at you to run away and not look back. When it finally stopped, a greyish-purple, winged demon wearing a red top hat and a matching coat rolled down his window.

“Well, well well… what do we have here? You lost, Bebé? You know, this is a really dangerous part of town… I could give you a ride, make sure you get home… Safe and sound.” He mused, his voice a sultry purr. A puff of pink smoke came out from his mouth as he spoke, and I accidentally inhaled it.

“Oh, uh… thanks! I-I don’t know…” I mumbled, choking a bit on the pungent smoke I’d just inhaled. hesitantly backing up from the vehicle, wanting to put some distance between me and him. On one hand, I needed help, I was in a strange new world and I had to find my bearings. on the other hand… Who knows what he might do to me if I get in that limousine.

“Oh, no worries bebé. I can see why you’d be so… Hesitant. you must be scared to death, huh? I don't think I've ever seen a human around these parts before. I guess your kind just aren’t made for this kind of terrain, hmm?” he purred, his lips contorted in a smile that seemed to almost be mocking me.

The window behind him rolled down, revealing two other people sitting in the limousine- a spider-like demon with white fluffy fur and mismatched color eyes, and a cyclops looking demon with one big eye and teased-up, strawberry blonde hair.

well, maybe it wouldn’t be all bad if this guy had other people with him? Surely he wouldn’t try something in front of people, right? And it’s not like I had a much better chance here on the streets… I knew I was being naive, I knew it was a bad idea- But something about this man, something about the way he was offering to help me… I wanted to believe him, I wanted to believe that I had some hope in a place like this.

“I… I still don’t know. Where would you take me?” I asked, my voice quivering despite my best efforts at acting like I was in control.

“don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, princessa. Just get in the car and I’ll take good care of you, hmm?” Valentino mused, blowing a heart-shaped puff of smoke in my direction. before I could process what was going on, I’d inhaled that smoke again- and much more of it than the last time.

I stumbled back, coughing and sputtering. I realized I was disassociating in and out of consciousness. I hunkered down, choking, only for him to step out of the car door and steady me, wrapping one of those slender arms around my waist. It was an invasive touch, it felt gross, but i was too confused to do anything about it. I felt him pulling me into the limousine with him, and I just let it happen, unable to fight back or even process what was happening.

the world was shifting, everything that came out of his mouth was distorted. I felt like my limbs were being weighed down, like I couldn’t get up from his lap that he’d so forcibly pulled me down on. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out, just a hushed whimper.

a lecherous grin crept on his face at the sound of me whimpering, like he was feeding on my fear. “I told you not to worry, amor… You trust me, don’t you?” he cooed, his voice sickeningly sweet and hot against my ear, almost mocking me. As if that wasn’t bad enough, what he said next made my blood run cold.

“You know… A pretty little thing like you was all over the news last week. A cute little cat demon, she’d been brutally assaulted, left to rot in an alleyway… It’s a good thing i got you off of the streets when I did, isn’t it? Only Lucifer knows what would’ve happened if the wrong person picked you up.”

It wasn’t framed like one, but it still felt like a threat. My eyes darted around the limousine, looking between the spider and the cyclops. Neither of them seemed shocked at all by what he’d just said, as if they were used to things like that coming out of his mouth.

I felt his hands caressing my body, not doing anything inherently sexual just yet, but it still felt like I was being taken advantage of. I could feel the distinct shape of an erection poking me from between his legs, and that’s when I realized just how fucked I was. No one was coming to save me. I would’ve been better off fending for myself in the streets.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

author’s note: It took everything in me to not continue on with this one, but anon didn’t specify if they were okay with a dark smutty fic or not so I quit before I got carried away lol 😵‍💫

that’s one out of three asks, I’ll be doing them in order :> I’ll get to the rest tomorrow or the next day.

[starstruckodysseys]

reese’s dimension 20 masterpost

bc i want to <3

you legally can’t be surprised at the amount of nsbu fics on here. have you looked at my blog before

FANTASY HIGH:

when i step onto that ferry (and the man demands his pay) — oneshot, 1.5k words. kristen & gorgug. remember when we died? i think it’s happening again — or, a study of aguefort’s two most killable students.

you never called it love (how can you be heartbroken?) — oneshot, 1k words. kipperlilly ruminates on life, death, and lucy frostblade.

give me something to sing about — oneshot, 7.2k words. fig/ayda/gorgug. fig falls in love (again), has some crises, and writes a song about it. written for the d20 fanfic masquerade!

NEVERAFTER:

wasn’t it beautiful (before the monsters caught up to you?) — oneshot, 723 words. gerard & ylfa. being a child, being a monster. something about parallels.

NEVER STOP BLOWING UP:

let’s do it baby i know the law

birds of a feather (we should stick together) — oneshot, 2k words. wendell/liv, liv & paula & usha. liv gets a crush, spirals, and talks to her work besties. girl’s night but in the bodies of action movie men.

you got me overnight — oneshot, 3k words. wendell/liv. your classic fake out make out… until it isn’t, because there’s no one to fake it for.

if we’re too plain to be unique — oneshot, 2.4k words. wendell & liv, implied wendell/liv. liv’s killed people with her own hands. it’s an issue for nobody but her. ft: late night talks, characters in cars, and vague transgenderism. which is kind of just every fic i write.

running circles around everyone you know — oneshot, 1.1k words. a sort-of character study, focusing on dang running out of the eastminster kennel club bloodbath in ep6.

if it’s forever (it’s even better) — oneshot, 2.2k words. wendell/liv. wendell drives a boat until he doesn’t and ruminates on the events of ep8, aka the famous craps game and blood rave from lord’s cocktail lounge.

if i could burn this town (i wouldn’t hesitate) — oneshot, 2k words. liv & russell. an introspection into liv’s moment in the jungle and sort of an examination into the parallels between her and russell.

bustin’ makes me feel good! — oneshot, 20.8k words. awesome action heroes friendship, background wendell/liv. ghostbusters au that sort of spiraled into a general paranormal au. dave’s video world isn’t really going out of business… because it’s a coverup for a ghost hunting business. but as darkness creeps into lake elsinore, and things slowly turn more sinister, it’s up to the six employees of the not-actually-video-store to figure out what’s really going on around town. and hey, what’s been up with their boss, lately?

my only wish this year — oneshot, 3.7k words. wendell/liv. just a classic mistletoe fic, complete with actual communication, for once.

take my thoughts of you and press rewind — oneshot, 7.5k words. wendell/liv. post-canon relationship study that honestly could be canon if we all tried really hard. written for the d20exchange!

they might think they’re cooler than me by a mile — oneshot, 2.4k words. wendell & dang & liv. spider-man au! that’s it that’s the fic really. written for underrated d20 month!

we mend together (gaze to cassiopeia) — oneshot, 13.6k words. awesome action heroes friendship, background wendell/liv. five times wendell’s pretty sure his friends are literally magic, and one time he realizes he might be, too. beginning of the nsbu/tuc au!

star-bright crystals — two chapters, ongoing, 8.7k words. awesome action heroes friendship, background wendell/liv. not finale compliant, but goes along with the rest of the season. in an attempt to help paula with her love life, the rest of the former awesome action heroes set her up on a blind date! they’re not good at it. minor crimes and awkward romance ensues, just… maybe not in the way you’d think.

[anewkindofme]

For the hurt/comfort prompts (please ignore if I’m being too demanding) 23 and 24 for TK and Owen please? 🥰

You're not being too demanding at all. I love getting all of these! (Also, we have given up all pretenses of these being traditional drabbles or even double drabbles, because I have no self-control)

Send me a number + a dynamic and I'll write a drabble.

This first one takes place pre-series when TK is in active addiction. So, TW: Addiction, implied/referenced drug use.

23. “I’m okay. You don't need to worry about me.”

“TK, son, your mother is worried about you. Frankly, so am I.”

TK itches his arm, letting out a bitter laugh. “You and Mom talk now, huh? Without fighting?” He adjusts the phone so his dad won’t hear the commotion behind him. With his luck, his dad will be able to spot out the bad neighborhood he’s in through the speaker.

“There’s one thing we can agree on: we want what’s best for you.”

“I’m okay. You don't need to worry about me.”

“You’re my son. I’m always going to worry about you. Especially when you fall off the face of the Earth for a week. Bub, wherever you are, tell me. I’ll come get you…”

“I said I’m fine, dammit!” TK snaps. “Just…quit hovering! I’m not a little kid. I can handle my own shit. I don’t need you or Mom or Enzo blowing up my phone.”

“Tyler…”

“Dad, I gotta go. Tell Mom to back off.”

He turns off his phone and shoves it in his pocket. Being mindful of the cracked steps, he makes it up to the door with the faded “7” and knocks 3 times in rapid succession. He needs something, anything to make the feeling of spiders invading his skin go away.

-----

This second one is a bit lighter, and takes place after TK is shot. I have...issues...with Owen going back to work so soon, so any chance to rectify that, I will.

24. “You're not supposed to be up and about.”

“I knew it.” TK drops the sponge but doesn’t look up from the dishes at the sound of his dad’s voice. “I can still see you, even if you don’t look at me.”

“Yeah, well I can pretend you’re not there if I don’t look up,” he mutters under his breath.

“This is exactly why I shouldn’t be going back to work.” TK finally meets Owen’s eye as he crosses over. “You're not supposed to be up and about.”

“I got bored!” TK whines. “Do you realize how bored I have to be if dishes sound like fun?”

“You’re recovering from a gunshot to the chest. I don’t think you’re supposed to be having any fun.” Owen turns off the tap and wraps an arm around TK, leading him back to the couch.

“Did you really come all the way back here just to check on me?”

“I never actually went back to the firehouse. I just circled the block a couple of times to prove my point. You need me here or you’re never going to relax.”

TK’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe you lied to me!”

Owen arches a brow. “Are you really going to get indignant when you lied about not getting up from the couch unless it was to grab your Postmates?” TK grumbles. “As I thought. Back to the couch.”