#never emotionally prepared for these movies

[echinocereus]

I would die for Samwise Gamgee. I would marry him immediately if he asked. Everytime he spoke in Return of the King i wanted to cry hes so loving and caring and thoughtful and brave and

[chloecherrysip]

"I hope you told your brother how much you loved him, because you're probably never gonna see him again."

"..."

"Was that too dark?"

"YES!"

"Sorry."

[iloveyoubecauseyouarelove]

Hearing my ma go off about betrayed trust like 💀

It's not that deep not everything some does or doesnt do that you Dont like is Not a dig at you

Like my sibling didnt mention they gave 20 dollars to a friend for a game. I dont think it's unreasonable for my ma to have want to know but also it's not unreasonable for my sibling to have just not said. My sibling has hundreds of dollars, im sure 20 seems inconsequential. Should they have lied and said 5 dollars when asked? No, especially not with how hypocritical my ma is about even the "smallest of lies". But should my ma have feelings of betrayal at not being told to begin with? Also no, my ma just likes to think every behavior she doesnt like is an intentional personal attack

Like 1 time i was punished and had to leave my smartphone at home and take a backup phone to school. Keyword: school. I have no reason to be on the phone that has no apps no web right? And my ma doesnt always text me during school. She also told me i dont need to keep the phone On. So i left it off the whole day except for when i check my phone at lunch, around the time she texts me yeah? I dont get any texts so i turn the phone back off until after school. Turns out my ma texted me a Little bit after i turned off the phone. But she starts berating me about not texting her as a way to get back at her for punishing me and taking away my phone. I was just so ??? Damn confused. I explained to her that i turned my phone on at lunch and then turned back off after and she didnt care? And then she was like why did you have the phone off anyways? I told her she said to leave it off. She said she meant the ringer and i didnt know how to do that but also she said i could turn the phone off. She didnt care, she thought she disproved me and i was just trying to make excuses for trying to get back at her. I Might have told her i was going to answer during class and i dont have time during passing cause my classes were so far. She still didnt care. She put it in her mind i was trying to punish her for punishing me and so that's it. I wouldnt be able to change her mind

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 7 |

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Perhaps an emotionally stunted softie who can’t communicate after used to being worshipped by everyone?

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: With the School festival coming right up the corner, your class choosing the Maid Cafe and you dressing up as a Maid. Satoru has to pull a few strings of his own. He may not be your bully anymore, he still is a spoiled boy who wants what he wants.

Between the haze of studies, and the workload because of the festival preparation, two weeks had passed. Satoru? Yeah, Satoru has gone more and more normal you'd say. He doesn't bother you apart from the occasional greetings. Sometimes he would smile and wink at you during the cafeteria where you settle with your friends; they are enamoured by the snow-haired king of school. Both the best friends, Satoru and Suguru are so sought out, you are worried it would end up in you getting into trouble because of it. Satoru is hell-bent on giving you the attention you don't need. You don't wish him good morning upfront when you accidentally catch him in the corridors, he does. Never failing it even once. The people who hang out with you have started to taunt you because of it.

"If it was up to me, I would have also spilled my lunch on his shirt. Maybe then he would notice me like he does, you, Y/N." Your eyes roll back a total of 360 degrees. This, this very behaviour was the reason Satoru was able to humiliate you so many times. The reminders aren't needed. The brutal reminders of you wishing you had no school, of you wishing that maybe he would have a change of heart and leave you alone. All because you said he collided against you purposely. Insufferable, Satoru Gojo was truly insufferable.

The cafeteria was echoing with the whispers, laughs, and discussions of your classmates and seniors alike. This was supposed to be festive time of course. Everyone was busy with something. As for you, this was your break. You had just finished giving your sizing for the maid costume. You hope it would look good on you at least, and you would get some memorable pictures. The thought of the School Festival commencing soon makes you giddy. You're not one of those emo loners anyway, you'd rather enjoy. "Hello Y/N san." One of your classmates diverts your attention, your gaze wanders up at him, reflexively shifting in your bench with the tray of your food so he could sit next to you. "Hello!" You chirped, watching him glance at you in a weird way, what's so weird about it? Well, Satoru looks at you the same way, as if you were a movie. You gulped, the stare was awkward. "So, what did you need?" You asked, raising an inquisitive brow. "Uh, nothing, just wanted to ask if you would participate in cooking as well? Some of the girls have been given the opportunity to dress up as maids, the others are going to be cooking." You think about it, this was pre-decided that you would be wearing a maid-costume. When the discussion happened, you were chosen pretty easily for the same.

"Hmm, I don't think I'm a great chef to be honest." You half chuckle, shrugging. The boy nods, gnawing at his lower lip. He seemed, almost nervous. As if he didn't know what to do if you didn't agree with him. "Why? What's the problem?" You asked again, trifling with your food now that your curiosity was piqued. "N-Nothing as such, it's just, you know Y/N there are going to be people from different schools, seniors- and I don't want anyone to hit on you." His cheeks are beet red when he says that. You raise a brow, you don't know how to take it. "Uh, thanks? I can take care of myself. Didn't take me much time to knock a shitty senior out in this very cafeteria?" You lean back, observing his face. He was looking more and more nervous by the passing minute. What is going on? "You know, I appreciate whatever you thought about me, but I can handle myself and take care of myself. Anything else?" You asked politely, unsure why you are being talked-to like you're a damsel in distress who wouldn't be able to take care of herself from hormone raging teens. "Sorry." He pouted, looking down. "I know it must sound like I am trying to control you - but you should remember I only want what's best for you." You want to puke, you barely know the dude. "Do you have a crush on me?" You cut to the chase, this was getting redundant/ "Who? ME?!" He exclaimed, leaning back, stuttering, "N-No of course- I mean, no- not like- Y/N you are pretty." "Thank you, I'm assuming you do have a crush on me?" He shakes his head no, timid again. "I don't want to die by the hands of Gojo san if I become brave and do agree."

Ah, there it is. Gojo San coming and looming in all over you again. "I understand, so you mean he likes me and he doesn't want anyone else to like me else he'll beat their ass?" The boy looked conflicted, should he? Really tell about all that? He wonders about the pros and cons - beaten up by Gojo to a pulp versus being your friend.

"Y/N, please don't discuss this with him." He begs, eyes pleading submissively. You roll your eyes and sighed, fine - you will keep your mouth shut about it. "Yeah, I promise. Won't share anything won't confront him, never heard of it." "He- uhm, ever since he knows that our class is going to do a Maid-café, he's closely supervising things with Shoko san & Geto san." "I never saw him? What do you mean? I never saw him come and check things?" You raised a brow, you were so sure his chapter was a closed one. You barely talked to him apart from having casual small-talk where you both don't ignore each other's existence. "Well, he did. Mostly timed when you were busy, he decided the menu, he interfered with the maid costumes. When everyone was against the long skirts and the full sleeves he threatened that he would have our class not participate at all. When we asked him what we could do so he could let us have some freedom to organize 'our own' activity - he mentioned he doesn't want you as a maid." A broken sigh escapes your classmate when he's done confessing.

You were.. fuming to say the least, every nerve ending pumping with boiling blood. So he is going to make everyone else suffer because he can't have you in a maid costume? "Then?" You raised a brow, this wasn't any conclusion. "Then I said I could talk to you about it, you're pretty and we hoped we would make a lot of money if you were to participate but Gojo San said he could cover the monetary side of it without any issues. Which left us with one final option, you could either opt out of being a maid, or we don't do it."

Ridiculous, fucking ridiculous.

"Why?" You snarled, what the fuck? "Well, because- as he said, he doesn't want other 'men' to look at you and create all sorts of scenarios in their head. He will have to take things on his own hands when that happens - and he wants to avoid that. I mean - avoiding beating up boys and ruin the festival." "Oh how kind, Gojo San is so kind, no?" You scoffed, sighing. Your classmates depended upon you, and you were once again caught in a clutch by Gojo Satoru. He gets what he wants doesn't he? "Tell him that I will be doing maid. Tell him to die mad about it." You got up, hearing the sound of the lunch-end bell and stomping away.

------

Gojo hasn't come back to you, it's been two days. You are sure your classmate had communicated everything to him clearly. Weird. This dude was so fucking weird. You are taut by your own promise to him though, you wouldn't talk to Gojo about it and risk the very foundation with which he trusted you. A lot has been on your mind since, if he likes you, he has no idea how to show it. Besides, doesn't even… matter if he likes you or not. You wouldn't forgive him… right? "Come on, don't be so pouty just because you're losing!" You heard his familiar voice from the basketball court. "Your glasses aren't working properly if you think I'm losing." You heard Geto remark back. Basketball, Satoru and Suguru are playing basketball. You didn't want to be a lurker but you do peek inside, watching the tall hunks play around alone. Every thud of the ball, every chuckle, every snicker and every goal sounding evidently in the echoes of the empty hall. "Peeking's no good." Satoru smirked, looking at you. You have no idea how grateful he is right now. He caught 'you' looking at him. "Sorry-" You mumbled, clearly accepting your mistake when you are at fault, unlike the fucking cafeteria incident. You were NOT at fault back then. "Whatcha lookin' for?" Satoru asked, playing with the ball and dribbling it while walking towards you. "Nothing, just got my 'final' maid costume." You answered, eyes trying their best not to glare at him when you say so. He hums, "Yeah? Gonna be a maid I hear." He cheekily grins. He heard… as if he doesn't know the bits and pieces of everything minutely already. "That's right, 'very excited' for it." You emphasize, and his eyes visibly softened, the pupils humanly dilating and a soft hum escaping him. "Mhm?" "Yeah" You grin back at him, unsure how to continue the conversation further.

Satoru was, dying. He didn't want to become what he was when you two met, and the way you said you were excited about it, he doesn't want to rip that all off because of his own spoiled wishes. It's a complex web of thoughts. On one moment Satoru wants to claim you as his; no one is even allowed to think about you wrongly. Keep you enclosed with him, marry you even? Breed you so you know you're his. Make babies so he gets a perfect blend of you and him. The other bit of him, wants to let you live so he can hopefully become a safe space for you. Help you trust him which he has ruined, show off the person he likes- loves- he doesn't know whether it's like or love yet.

"Well, I'll see you around." You distract him from his thoughts instantly. His lips part and brows furrow a little in resistance, "Well- shyeah."

He glances at Suguru once you leave.  You're going to be a maid and he wouldn't be able to do 'anything' about it when that brings a smile like 'that' on your face.

[eldritch-spouse]

I slam the door with frustration, spooking the angel patiently waiting by the door. I haphazardly throw my coat on the floor before grabbing the celestial’s hand and stomping into the living room. Forcing him to sit on the couch, I turn on the tv for noise and hastily unbutton his suit. “I need you now. Had a bad day and you will help me relieve stress.”

In different years, Belo would find this way of life to be slightly insulting.

He's a warrior after all, a power. His kind belongs outside, patrolling, securing the well-being of lessers, fighting for the honor of their Highers and holding the safety of Eden on their shoulders.

Ah, but those days are gone. Long gone. His vision glazes sometimes, wet and torpid eyes lamenting the fate of many of his brethren. They, unlike him, didn't have the fortitude to handle their own abandonment, the newfound fruitlessness of their very existence.

It's one thing to never know what the meaning of your existence is. It's another thing to have that meaning embedded in your very core and never be able to fulfill it again. Sometimes Belo envies that freedom, that ambivalence of simply existing because you can, because you were made.

Also unlike him, his kin did not have the miraculous luck to find someone like his Lady. His Lady-Worship, his beam of light in a universe ready to swallow him in its poisonous darkness. The guiding hand in a world so new and so different, so degenerate. So horrid! As amazing and radiant as you are, Belo shudders when he thinks about how you made it this far intact without a celestial by your side.

With new meaning come new duties, understandably.

As Belo still needs to learn quite a lot to understand the symbolism of this new age, he worries himself with protecting your sanctum, making it the best version of itself, and keeping it painfully, effectively warded against all threats- Especially that fiendish "neighbor" you have, what disgusting absolutely abhorrent lifeform it is! Noxious creature!

But alas, your benevolence knows no bounds. Not only have you welcomed him into your life, you refuse to let that wretched pest meet its end. Truly, you are too good for this lost planet.

Now.

Back to his current task.

The sanctum is spotless, but alas, Belo was never taught how to prepare meals for lessers. It was not the type of discipline delivered to his cast. A guardian would know this, even a principality! But not him, not a power. Unfortunate and unacceptable- He must show adaptation and flexibility unlike ever before!

Which is why that uhm... Digital movie playing contraption you have comes in so very handy.

He never thought he'd be learning to cook from lessers, but here Belo is, hoping against all odds that he doesn't ruin the eggs this time. It's not that he can't handle objects in a gentle manner, it's that he's never had to taste things. Therefore, he doesn't know how to create the correct flavor.

And Lords forbid he ever present his Lady with something foul-tasting!

The power is sure he's got it down correctly this time however. Belo has just finished putting the eggs on the plate he intends to present you with, when he stills.

An acute sense of alertness and hearing means a lifeform like him is always aware of the movement around your apartment complex. He knows when your neighbors leave and arrive, which parts of their homes they're in... This also means that he knows when you're nearby, having memorized the noise of your vehicle -Such a shame that he can't accompany you to some locations- And the jingle of your mildly irritating keychain.

The angel scrambles to put everything together, wanting to be at the door with his offering in full display, so eager to see you-

The door rips open.

Only a nick of time allows Belo to secure his painfully crafted work of mediocre culinary, lest it be swatted to the ground. Sharpened eyes spare you great concern.

His Lady exudes frustration. Although his rank is not the most emotionally attuned, Belo senses a cloud of negativity choking you, your glorious features drained and tense. He's overcome with emotion.

" My- My Lady! Whatever happened today? Did you get hurt? Who d- "

The force with which you grip his hand is surprising for a human, dragging the angel only because he always allows you to. The food lies forgotten on the nearest surface. It's by his ever subservient attitude that you can toss Belo to the couch too, his silent confusion following when you activate the bigger display box.

" I need you now. " You begin, patience depleted. " Had a long day and you will help me relieve stress. "

He squawks the same way he does whenever his Worship starts these encounters without proper warning, wings fluttering and fur fluffing in a mixture of shock and anticipation. He fears that a part of him may enjoy getting pleasurably surprised more than any self-respecting angel should.

" But... " He knows it's not a good idea to challenge you, trembling as the last of his covering is undone. " You should eat b-before I service you, my Lady, many hours have passed- "

" I'll eat when I can't feel my legs. " The snarl you give Belo sends shudders down his spine, and he bashfully, albeit inwardly happily, readjusts to spread his legs for you.

" Excuse me but that hardly sounds healthy... "

His cock pokes out a furred slit, beading and twitching to interest. Although Belo becomes uncomfortably erect the moment you recklessly undress before him. It was not, as a filthy demon would put it, a slutty display. It was raw need, irritation and pure dominance. It was a side of his Worship he had yet to witness.

Belo refuses to ever admit it aloud, he cannot, he will not! But... But oh, the sins of the flesh. No, when provided by the superiors, they are not sins, they are gifts. They cannot be wrong. It's not wrong for Belo to enjoy your physical rewards for his work, but it is perhaps sinful of him to lust for more, to so eagerly hope that you'll allow him such pleasures when he performs certain tasks.

He does not touch his aching length because he's not allowed to. His pleasure is for you to decide upon, of course.

The angel prepares to slide down on his knees when you shove him back on the cushions by the shoulder.

Three eyes blink at you. " Am... Am I not to service you, my Goddess? "

You usually enjoy the touch of his fingers upon your most intimate zones, for training him is easy, and Belo adored the sounds of your approval. You did also curiously enjoy grinding over his face, a sensation that often left him pointlessly thrusting against nothing.

None of that today, it seems.

" Shut up. "

He was about to reply with a reflexive 'Yes, my Lady' before catching himself.

When you straddle him, the celestial only tilts his head, figure heated, but never expecting you to simply line him up with your entrance and slam yourself down.

Had he not been in the midst of breathlessly throwing his head back, Belo would have died from worry. As holy as you are, you share the stature of humanity, and Belo knows -F-From common sense, of course!- That his organ is not the same size of a human's at all.

He tries to articulate his concern, but the squeeze of your core around him is hypnotic and sickeningly euphoric. Belo can only hold onto full hips and cry his delight while you mercilessly hammer down on his cock, milking all the pleasure you can from him.

His melodious whines and resounding moans -Something he ought to control- rise in intensity as Belo loses himself and begins rutting senselessly, the tip of his dick nuzzling spots that make the two of you go stupid.

" Don't you dare cum yet! "

He wails, physically wails, body trembling so hard it almost spasms in his effort to reign his movements. " N- Never, never my Lady! I'm good, I'll relieve you- I'm good! "

And as if to confirm it, your serious complexion finally morphs into a self-satisfied grin, all lidded eyes and gentle, mocking affection.

He's the one that's not getting any relief soon.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Beach day with König

CW: 18+ only, protected p in v sex in a semi-public place, size kink, friends to lovers, possessive but slightly emotionally unavailable König

König wants to take you to the beach one day. He has water and some munch already packed, along with a bottle of sunscreen, and he's looking illegally hot there at your door with one of those rare smiles on his face.

You like to think he's reserved his smiles just for you, but the truth is you never know if König is flirting with you without knowing it, or if he's deliberately teasing you and making your heart ache. You can't get to the bottom of who this mysterious Austrian giant truly is, but you know he likes to spend time with you. That must count for something, right…?

You have to go to the same stall to change because there's a shortage of free changing rooms; it's the most beautiful day so of course everyone else is at the beach too.

You only need to grab your swimwear and towel, but you want to add your share to the beach picnic and so you quickly shove the last of the blueberry muffins you baked yesterday into a tupperware box. You almost melt on the spot when König says you have to feed them to him because his hands will soon be covered in sunscreen. Someone has to make sure you don't burn in the sun, oder nichts?

You've done all kinds of shit together but König has never seen you naked. You try to keep it cool – it's okay: you're both adults, it's no big deal. Friends can share the same changing room, and König has always been the perfect gentleman when it comes to these things.

It's just that you wouldn't mind if his eyes wandered a little... You know you wouldn't blame him for that, if he didn't blame you for taking a peek.

A little peek never hurt anyone, but you never knew what it would cost you. You never knew you'd end up against the stall wall with him inside you.

The reserved gentleman you used to know is completely gone. König tears the condom package open with his teeth and rolls the plastic protection on with no shame whatsoever. Trojan Magnum thin, you manage to catch as the torn package ends up somewhere on the floor of the changing room. You can't believe he came here prepared…

You wonder where his usual shyness went when he too cheated on his promise not to look when you change. You wonder where the polite, considerate man went when König presents himself to you, fully naked, uncut and huge.

You're barely able to nod when he bluntly asks if you want to fuck.

The shy, awkward recruit is nowhere to be seen as König raises you against the rough, unpainted boards and spreads your thighs. The sounds of strain and exertion mainly come from him sliding his cock into you, not from him having to carry your full weight.

You always thought your first time with König – if such a thing ever came – would be something more traditional, more romantic. You always thought it'd be a Netflix & chill kind of moment. This guy has taken you out to have a chaste little meal or to see some stupid movie, for weeks and weeks now. König has the most awful taste in films, but you've endured, just like you've endured his monologues about knives and sniping. König has offered you his huge sweater when you were cold, he's has entertained your need to read poems to him, just as bravely as you have entertained his silly ramblings about yet another Böker knife. You have done a million pranks to the other recruits together. Everyone at the barracks is sick of your stupid inside jokes, everyone says you two are the worst. The 'big goblin' and the 'small goblin', they call you apparently...

Close friends don't fuck like wild animals inside a changing room, you think while he rails you as controlled and muffled as he can – you fear what would happen to you, not to talk of the poor stall, if König was allowed to fuck you to his hearts and dicks content. You never knew the socially awkward but intense sniper candidate would take you to a beach and then ask if you want to fuck. On your worst days you've swallowed tears along with the shy question of would he ever want to be more than just friends.

The only time König ever touched you was when he allowed you to try his favourite rifle. The only time you ever kissed him was after your date nights, and even then it was just a quick peck on the cheek. You were never quite sure if you were just close friends with König.

You almost lose it when he grunts into your neck how he's wanted to do this for a long time. Wanted to fuck you, or fuck a woman against a changing room wall, you don't know, but you hold on to his sweaty neck as best as you can. You have to bite his shoulder to prevent loud, long-held cries from coming out. It only makes König more unhinged, though: you sinking your teeth in him like that.

Now he's infiltrating you with the passion of a man about to die if he doesn't get some pussy. Or like a dog, finally allowed to rut a female in heat. If you two were the only people here, he would probably sound like an animal, too. You know you would.

"When we... When we get back, I'll fuck you properly. Long, and hard. Hm?"

"Y–yes," you whisper on his skin – you don't know if you've ever been this flustered. You fear everyone on the beach will know what you've been doing just from how dumb you will look after this. The bite marks on König's shoulder are enough to tell people that your "close friend" is good at more than just shooting a gun.

When you cum, you sound like a widow sobbing at a funeral; when he cums, he sounds like he's dying from a stab wound. You both sound like two people trying to muffle their sorrow instead of trying to fuck their brains out.

And he won't let you down even when he's done with you. He won't let you down, not even as you squirm and whimper in his hold.

"You're mine now, right?" He pants into your ear while covered in a thin sheen of sweat. It's far from any kind of gentlemanly behavior, that low, possessive growl. Your eyes brim with tears – you like him too much when he's spontaneous and a bit crazy like this. You could fall in love with a man like König.

"I always was," you whisper, and he finally puts you down, content with everything you just gave him. You swear you just heard a soft, pleased rumble rising from that broad chest… But some part of that stoic, reserved soldier you know from the skills training and movie nights makes an appearance when you put your swimwear on. König is perfectly in control while you, in turn, are feeling awkward and completely flushed. At least there's no cum running down your thighs as you prepare for your day at the beach...

And who knew König would be so whiny? The condom you used is full as hell, and he has nowhere to put it because there's no trash can in the stall. He grunts as you try to hold in your laughter — he overall looks like he would prefer it if condoms disappeared from the face of the earth entirely so he could feel you without the plastic barrier in between. You giggle when you watch him smuggle it into the nearest trash after wrapping it inside a paper towel.

You spend the rest of the day at the beach, looking like you're the first people who have just discovered love and the fine art of fucking. He can't take his eyes off you, and you can't take his eyes off him. You play in the water, not as friends, but as lovers. Some elderly lady comes to scold you and says there are children here at the beach. You have your legs wrapped around König underwater, and your arms around his neck above: there's nothing lewd going on. But König grows red, all the way from the neck up. That's when you know he has probably never taken a woman in a public place; sometimes you wonder if he has ever taken a woman at all. The big Austrian sniper-to-be remains a mystery as he brings you some ice cream like the gentleman he is, then licks it off from your fingers like a starved dog. He's hot and cold, and confident and shy, feral and distant all in one day.

"You're mine now... All mine."

He "fucks you properly" when you get back, making your whole apartment smell of sex and desperation. And he says it again... That you belong to him. He says it with a shattered, hungry stare, both fragile and frightening.

[mandowifey]

Ritual

Miguel O'hara x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, (My)Dark!Miguel, Reader is captive, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, p in v sex, cockwarming, creampie, gentle sex, emotionally needy Miguel, touch starved boy, mention of injury, reader is going through it emotionally, domestic fluff, general softness towards the end. Reader not specified by details or name.

This is part of a nonlinear storyline.

Synopses: Something breaks.

° ° °

There was a natural rhythm you fell into with Miguel.

Home alone, you enjoyed television and movies until the evening. Miguel did not have a normal schedule to adhere to, which meant you did not get the luxury of anticipating his return home. Generally, he was gone from sunrise to sunset. To busy yourself, you offered to make dinner, not because you loved him but the greasy burgers and empanadas from the food court never settled with your stomach.

You would start your preparations around 4:45, then take your time until the inevitable sound of locks disengaging caught your ear. He would walk in and dim the lights - a habit you had assumed was because he was saving on electric, but learned it was actually that his eyes were sensitive to it. That was how you learned about him. Brief, flippant comments here and there that formed a collage of Miguel O'hara; Nueva York's Spiderman.

Sometimes, you daydreamed about being found. Other times, you worried a hole in your lip, considering the realities of running away. Miguel was an apex predator and, most assuredly, would find and punish you for leaving. Certain days when you had too much space in your head, you fantasized about your old life. A job, an apartment, friends, all things you took for granted. The worst days were when you thought about him. Not in fear, but need. The days when you missed him and yearned to be touched. You were only human, it was only natural to crave companionship, even if it was from your captor.

Pain throbs in your palm, and you shout, dropping the pan of mashed potatoes on the counter. You turn to the sink, clutching your wrist and wincing. After running the burn under lukewarm water, you sigh and walk into the bathroom. You apply some ointment from a medkit and gingerly wrap your hand with bandages. Weaving the tan material through your fingers and over your knuckles, you silently scold yourself for such a stupid mistake.

By the time you walk out of the bathroom, the front door is opening. You scramble, carefully opening the oven to take out the roast you made and setting it down on the stove top. "S-sorry, I'm almost done." You grunt, trying to grab plates and wincing from the sting in your palm. The front door closes, and you feel Miguel's looming presence closing in on you. Something grabs your arm and turns you, a large hand closed around your wrist.

"What happened?"

His voice was quiet but tense. The mask crawled down his neck, exposing his pointed expression and vexed brows. "Did you hurt yourself?" There is an emotion in his voice that confuses you. The hand around you loosens as he draws you closer, rich brown eyes scanning your bandage work.

"Just an accidental burn. Wasn't paying attention, is all." Your cheeks burn, feeling like a helpless toddler.

Miguel scoffs, then softens. "You should be more careful." He draws your hand closer and leans in, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm. "Don't need you burnt anywhere else." His lips tug into a grin, and he releases you. Your body was hot all over, and your stomach twisted into knots. This was in response to a man who had done nothing but use you and trap you in his home to play house. You knew it was sick to feel anything other than resentment towards him, but the tenderness in which he looks at you has your heart confused.

"Yeah, of course."

Your arm tingles as he turns away and looks at the scattered pieces of dinner. "You go ahead and sit down. I'll plate everything." Miguel hums as he grabs out silverware and cups. You were compelled to argue, but your mind was still soggy from the kiss. Instead, you wordlessly sit at the little round dinner table, and wait.

The two of you eat in your regular fashion. Light small talk and mostly letting Miguel vent about his day. Today, it was the stress of two anomalies in one universe. You politely nod and give him empathy when the moment calls for it, but your mind is miles away. Miguel compliments your cooking, as was usual, and sends you to bed so he can clean. Knowing what followed, you go to the bedroom and undress before climbing under the blankets. Your mind back to that moment, recalling the way those lovely brown eyes softened before he kissed your hand.

When he returns to you, his suit vanishes as he walks into the shower. He was quick, only gone for moments before returning to you with bis hair slicked back, smelling of familiar body wash and shampoo. You move the blankets for him, and he climbs in beside you.

"You alright?"

There must have been a far away look on your face. You blink and refocus, looking up as he slowly climbs on top of you. Your legs part, and he slots between them where you feel the drag of his half hard cock. "Yeah, just spacey today, I guess." Miguel watches your face, reading you for deception. He closes the distance and kisses you deeply, like he had many times before. His lips part your own before his tongue eagerly slips in. The man groans, rocking his hips to fuck himself against your folds.

A part of you hates how normal this feels. That your life had become something of a ritual. You hated him for what he'd reduced you to; a pathetic shadow of yourself, wet and mewling for him like an obedient whore. This was never what you wanted, yet there you lay with your captor prodding at your cunt.

Brushing your clit with his tip, you jolt. Miguel notices and does it again, smearing dewy precum along you. "Like that?" He rumbles from above. There is a softness to him that brings heat to simmer in your stomach. "Mhm." Your eyes are scanning the blankets, looking anywhere but at him. A tingle in your wounded palm reminds you of the moment in the kitchen. You think about the way his lips pressed the bandages and the sincerity in his dark eyes.

You felt a nagging desire to reach out to him, and you did. Miguel had been ready to spear into you when both your little hands cup his cheeks. His eyes widen, and his movements halt. Tracing your thumbs along the swell of his cheeks, you bring your eyes to look up at him, catching the man off guard. You think he may be angry until he leans into your palms. Those dark eyes of his slowly soften as he melts against you. The change is startling. You'd never seen him so subdued.

Miguel closes his eyes and lets you hold his head up. He mutters something you can't understand, and you feel warmth spread across your limbs. You didn't want to fight it today. You wanted to succumb to him and feel in control, just for a moment. "Miguel," you say his name, softer than you ever had. Brown eyes flutter open and hone predatorially to yours, waiting. "I need you." You couldn't be sure what facet of yourself asked, but you didn't care. Right then, you wanted him, and you would have him.

He is certain he is going to break. Your voice, your hands, the desire in your words. Miguel never thought he'd hear you ask for it, but there you were, and you did. The man never realized how touch starved he was until he found himself drooping against you, eyes heavy and heart throbbing. You could see the pieces of himself crumbling away, those reinforced walls of stone and brick that guarded him, becoming nothing but rubble between you. Something tugs in your chest, and you pull him down to kiss him gently.

"Come here," you whisper, and he obliges. Miguel lays on his forearms over you, his broad chest and narrow hips pinning you to the mattress. You can not help but feel like a stone cast out in the ocean, unable to save yourself as you sink further into the dark. "I've got you." You mumble, petting your fingers through his wild flare of brown locks. Something prods, and you part. Miguel nudges his hips forward and dips the length of his cock inside your warmth, drawing a gasp from you.

When he bottoms out, you push your forehead to his and whimper. Miguel isn't fucking you as he usually does, this time it is slow, methodical, loving. "O-oh, l-like that!" You gasp suddenly, arching your back. The thick tip of his head bruises your gspot on its journey to your cervix. Usually he is brutal, knowing you fought too hard to ever cum. This steady, gentle rocking has you spiraling. Heat builds in your core so fast your head spins. Miguel is watching your face, eyes trained on your soft lips and the way they part when you sigh in pleasure. He lowers his mouth to catch yours, swallowing your intoxicatingly soft cries.

Each press of his hips to yours sends sparks through your abdomen, his stomach pressing your swollen clit as he nudges to his hilt. "M-miguel, Miguel - f-fuck-!" You were building, and send your free hand to grasp at his back. His muscles flex under your palm, and his mouth nips at your ear. "Cum for me," He purrs in a voice like distant thunder. "Cum." Miguel cinches his jaw and bucks unevenly as fire spreads inside you. The both of you choke and groan. He rattles against you and desperately rabbits inside your cunt as he nears his end. You couldn't take it, between his demand and the slow climb of your orgasm, you crumble with him.

Shrieking, you clench down around his cock as he hits against your cervix, milking his length for all he's worth. Your legs tremble, and you find yourself clinging to his neck, puling softly as you rode out your orgasm. Miguel had lost it too, your noises and getting to watch you cum setting him into his own heat. You hear him strain in your ear, his cock throbbing as he spews molten cum inside of you. The heat spreads, and Miguel grinds his pelvis to yours, stimulating your already sensitive clit.

"Hh-ah, p-please." You paw at his hair, near tears from the intensity of the moment. Miguel kisses you again, bumping his nose against your own as he settles to a stop. The two of you are looking at each other now, damp with sweat from lovemaking. You bring your hand to his cheek, then touch along the broad expanse of his jaw, causing him to lean into your palm again.

After a few moments, he settles to lay his head on your shoulder, not bothering to pull out. You wrap his neck with your arms and stare up at the ceiling, listening as he falls asleep.

You think about that sinking stone,

And wonder if you'll ever see the surface again.

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being a variant and being on Miles’ side [GN]

[Platonic Headcanons]

c/w: major spoilers, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon inaccuracies? I’m not really sure I’d just gone off what I had perceived from the movie

—

[Unedited]

• Miguel and Jessica had been keeping a keen eye on the teenager spider variant (you) from Earth-2315126 since you’d been bitten at five years old

• Strange thing was your father; Peter Parker was also bit, which meant your dimension had two spider variants as opposed to one— not unheard of but not common either

• It was fortunate for you however because you had someone to teach you, show you the ropes, the fact that it was your father who had become your mentor was only the icing on the cake

• And you were brought up into a spectacular spider variant in his care; strong, compassionate, kind

• Though despite having a father the pair kept a watchful eye on you regardless, seeing promise in your future and believing in your potential

• When you were fourteen your father was killed by Lizard, and for an entire year following you gave up on your heroic persona— hanging up your suit in the wake of your father’s death that rocked your entire world

• Being Spider-Man/Woman is about sacrifice, your father taught that to you when you began and you should’ve expected that you could not have it all

• A loving and doting father and the most badass secondary identity ever, it was always bound to happen and you should’ve prepared yourself for it

• But nobody could prepare themself for the loss of a loved one, and the ache in your chest and the burn in your stomach was something you’d never felt before— nor do you ever wish to feel it again

• So you gave up on the suit and you gave up on being the hero, eventually your Aunt May had stepped in and she scolded you pretty heavily about your state

• You didn’t think she had room to talk and she laid into you pretty hard for that comment because she most certainly did, Peter was her brother after all

• After you got it pretty good you decided that she was right, sulking about and ruining yourself wouldn’t change a damn thing, not only that but you knew your father would hate to see you like that

• You knew he wouldn’t ever force the suit upon you and you accepted that you had the choice to avoid dawning it ever again, but you also knew what he would do in your position

• He would bear the responsibility of his beloved city no matter the circumstances and no matter the heartache, because Spider-Man always gets back up

• So you stood firm upon all the valiant determination you could muster and picked your life back up again

• You got better emotionally and grew stable once more, and in the acceptance of your father’s death you had grown stronger, confident, courageous

• With you back on the streets of NYC the people of Brooklyn often voiced just how much they had missed and needed you

• And you didn’t plan on letting them down again, so despite the lack of a piece of your heart you always showed up when people needed you and you’ve not yet let them down

• Now, back to Jess and Miguel— they had known Peter would die and they had known they could not interfere as this was your canon event, the moment that would make or break you.. turns out it did both

• And they watched as you suffered through the loss, gave up on everything and everyone (including yourself) for a little over a year, worked through your pain and powered forward to overcome your grief, then became one of the strongest variants they had ever seen just before your seventeenth birthday

• Yes, they’ve been watching you for twelve years and yes, you have no idea

• It was on your seventeenth birthday that you had encountered Lizard once again, and this time he had taken enhancement drugs to increase his growth rate to tremendously rapid levels

• To say you were a bit stunned to see Lizard the size of a fucking dinosaur would be the understatement of the entire damn year

• Now, you held malicious and vengeful feelings towards Lizard for a long time in the wake of your father’s murder but it was feelings you had never ever acted upon, not even after you decided to pick up the suit once more

• As mentioned before you knew very well that the angry and hateful feeling brewing inside you at the expense of Lizard killing him could ruin you if you let it

• And that’s not where your morals lie, your beliefs and virtues are straight from those of your fathers— to be strong and courageous, righteous and pure for being Spider-Man/Woman is about hope

• So you did intend to take him down but you’d never do it with sinister intent or threatening tactics— just bring him down is all you wanted to do

• And if you were to speak honestly, it wasn’t as hard as you thought it was gonna be, obviously it was still pretty tough because hello? He’s the size of a fucking house, might as well be fighting a damn dragon

• It was easier because you’d felt at peace with yourself, and when at peace with yourself you worked harder and cleaner, jobs and protecting the city was just.. easier

• The fact the fight was easier than you expected could’ve also been because of your bite, the abilities you had gotten from it were a bit different than your father’s

• See, you’d been bit by a radioactive spider yes but it was a specific species and in accordance with that species you’d gained significantly different skills and traits

• The spider that had bit you was a Northern Wolf Spider, the arachnid gaining that name from it’s behavior of chasing, hunting and stalking prey, and in an odd turn of events you’d gained qualities that were more akin to that of a North American Timber Wolf

• Heightened senses came with the bite for every variant, and your specific qualities included; advanced stamina and strength, increased sense of sight, tremendously keen sense of smell and auditory processing, you had thick and durable fangs meant for tearing and searing

• You also bulked up a whole more more since your father passed, and in gaining more weight in pure muscle you’ve had to make your webs more durable, which helped out a lot with your fight against Lizard

• Speaking of—

“They’ve probably got it handled Miguel, is there any reason to actually go to their dimension?”

“I protect the multiverse which makes anomalies my responsibility, regardless of if that variant can handle them or not. And I’m going to have them join us.”

Jessica didn’t say much after, and she followed Miguel dutifully as he walked into the glowing orange portal. The pair flew through the multiverse for all of two seconds before a portal opened ahead of them and they were dropped onto a roof in your dimension.

“Went a bit too heavy on the ‘roids didn’t ya Doc?” The voice of a young teenager caught their ears. Just off to the side and a couple blocks away. Now facing that way they could see the large head of Lizard standing tall over the lip of the building on the distance.

“Is.. is that?—”

“Dr. Curt Connors.”

You leapt off the metal grail of the fire escape just as Lizard destroyed it with a whip of his massive tail. Using the momentum from your jump you swung a reverse axe kick to Lizard’s chin— putting enough force into it to throw his head back as you flip-jumped from him and landed on the road down below.

“I’m going to rip you apart and feast on your innards!” Lizard snarled as he recovered and glowered down at you with a sinister bear of his teeth.

“Season them well first at least, I’d suggest a nice barbecue rub!” You responded before shooting a web to the corner of the building on your left and swinging yourself into the air. Lizard roared angrily before lunging forward and attempting to catch you between his teeth. They snapped close with a chilling clamp and throaty growl from the beast.

Reaching the corner of the building you had shot your web at you leapt up and backwards flying over Lizard’s head and connecting a web to the side of his muzzle.

“Almost got me there!” You yelled as you swung around and around Lizard’s large scaled snout. “Don’t you know that animals that bite are often fitted with muzzles!” You quipped, enunciating the last word with a firm tug thus tightening the webs you’d been wrapping around his jaws and effectively sealing his mouth shut.

You kept the momentum and attached another web to the end of the one you’d been swinging around his muzzle. Then, you angled your hip to swing towards Lizard’s legs and using the same tactic looped around them several times before you were doing the same thing for his arms. When you deemed him wrapped up enough you landed behind him then tugged hard on the web end in your hand and forced Lizard to the ground by pulling his feet out from underneath him.

Once you were sure he was on the asphalt you were swift to web him up tightly and bind him to the ground. Hopefully, Captain Stacey got your message about the antidote and would arrive soon with it.

Meanwhile, as you waited you playfully walked along the edge of the building. The lip acting as your balance beam as you walked on your toes along it, doing a flip every so often just cause. You’d long since forgone your mask in favor of eating the sandwich gifted to you by the bodega owner on the corner.

Your spider senses tingled before—

“That was pretty impressive.”

You only flinched slightly at the abrupt interruption of your own little world, and turned to see two people. One, a very tall and broad man with wide shoulders and a muscular physique. The other, a woman with dark skin and a styled afro.. and she was pregnant.

“Uhm… thanks?”

“Was that a question?”

“Sorry it’s just—” you shook your head before jumping down and only now standing on the same level as him did you realize how tall the man actually was. “Who exactly are you two?”

“I’d think the suits gave you plenty context.” The woman replied, a smirk tugging up one end of her lips.

“Okay.. and why are you here?” You answered, still on edge about the two variants standing in front of you.

“My name is Miguel O’hara, and I lead an elite strike force dedicated to helping maintain the multiverse.” The man responded and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here?”

“There was an anomaly reading in your dimension and we’re here to retrieve whatever villain has jumped into your universe.” The woman explained, jumping in to answer before Miguel could.

“You mean Kingpin?” You replied pointing to the billboard behind them and they both spun around to find the suit wearing antagonist webbed to it. Thick, white webs covering his entire body save for his neck and head, finally a web over his mouth. And they all watched as he glitched and morphed in colorful and mixed patterns, the board he was attached to glitching out too before changing entirely.

“How did you?—”

“My AP Physics teacher won’t shut up about the multiverse and also he doesn’t look my Kingpin at all so.. I mean you know,” they shrugged.

Miguel turned his head slightly to look at the woman beside him before he jerked his head minutely then he was facing the teenager in front of him once more. You met his masked stare head on (something he was impressed by, not many people can meet his intimidating glare straight on) as the woman walked away from you two before slinging a web up to the billboard and pulling herself up to it.

“You know the whole sinister and dark ‘nobody touch me I’m emo’ vibe you got going on isn’t very heroic.”

Miguel didn’t say anything, didn’t move an inch as he just stared at you. “See that right there isn’t becoming of someone who’s supposed to make people feel safe.”

“I protect the multiverse.”

“Right. But there are ordinary people in the multiverse, in every dimension you’ll find people.”

“The multiverse is my priority.”

“Yikes, saying things like that are not very becoming of a Spider-Man either.”

Miguel turned his observant stare cold as he chose to glare at you instead for the disrespectful responses and jokes. And he figured you must’ve felt he’d changed to glaring heatedly because you awkwardly looked away with a hand rubbing the back of your neck.

Finally, the woman returned with the Kingpin variant at her feet. This one significantly smaller than yours and lankier too, he must rely heavily on his Tombstone and Prowler. You’d rather have this Kingpin as opposed to your Kingpin— who for some reason is built like a fucking overgrown Silverback Gorilla.

She fiddled with the watch on her wrist before a golden portal erupted into life beside her, and you watched as she threw the Kingpin variant in before stepping in herself. But not before saluting you a goodbye with a playful glint in her eye and cheeky smirk on her face.

The portal closed and then your attention was back on Miguel, and your spider senses tingling brought a hand up to catch the watch he threw at you.

“Join us?”

You looked from him to the device in your hand, then you looked behind you at the Lizard on the ground down below. Captain Stacey at his neck and injecting him with a vial of clear liquid. You turned back to Miguel with a smirk and eager look as you slid the watch onto your wrist. “Sounds like a damn good time.”

• You didn’t know if you actually wanted to be there at Miguel’s Spider Society or whatever he’s calling it but you were also a bit intrigued by it

• So you followed them when he offered you that watch, and you grinned as he gave walked you around the building, giving you a small tour of his headquarters

• When you met Peter B. Parker you had an emotional breakdown and refused to return to the society for days following your first interaction with the man

• When you finally went back he was concerned that he’d done something wrong to garner such a reaction but you were quick to jump in and let him know it was in no way his fault before you explained why you had reacted as you did

• He was more than understanding, offering to keep his distance if that was what you wanted and whilst you appreciated the gesture you told him you would be fine

• And spending time in his company had begun to fill that gaping hole in your heart, obviously he’d never replace your father and you didn’t expect that of him either but his fatherly presence made you feel better than you had in years since your father’s passing

• Mayday was just an added bonus to his presence

• Time passed and you were there for a couple months before you met Gwen Stacey, and the two of you clicked almost instantly, it was a bit odd for you since the Gwen from your universe was about three years old and hadn’t been bitten but you got used to it

• And in that time you’d also learned the pregnant woman’s name was Jessica and that she was Miguel’s right hand in his society that he created

• You’d also met Hobie Brown and Pavitr Prabhakar whom you’d come to adore more than you’d ever outwardly admit lest you wish to give them egos the size of fucking Mars (but those two alongside Gwen were definitely your favorites) (behind Miguel ofc)

• Speaking of, you’d also grown quite close to Miguel in your time as part of his society of spider people, which was a huge surprise to yourself, him, Jessica and pretty much everyone involved

• He couldn’t really explain what it was, just something about your energy and the way you carried yourself that had him intrigued and impressed

• Your attitude that alluded to you never giving up was something he admired about you too, and it was those qualities that drew him in, made him want to protect you

• The bonding with you was something he didn’t expect to happen but was shocked when he wasn’t against it, and he ignored the initial reluctance and fear that he felt when you two began to get closer and closer

• Maybe it was the little things, the way you’d check up on him after a particularly harrowing or difficult mission, or the way you’d do anything to see if you could get him to crack a smile, there was something about your mere presence too, something warm and comforting

• Something he hadn’t felt since his young daughter was still a part of his life, and he was afraid of the consequences that would follow if he ever got close to you and lost you

• The same heartache he felt for his daughter would return, and it was pain that he didn’t want to feel ever again, that’s why he kept himself so guarded, those broken and vulnerable pieces protected behind vaulted steel doors

• But you had somehow managed to slip through his barbed defenses and made yourself right at home in his heart, and again he was initially afraid of the possibility that he’d lose you too and he’d face that pain all over again

• He doesn’t remember when or how he got over it, but he does remember the feeling that washed over him when he finally accepted your friendship

• It felt akin to a bucket of cold water being dumped over that fiery and searing ache in his chest, relief and comfort that he felt weigh so heavily on his chest he almost cried

• After that your guys’ relationship developed to much deepen levels, and he’d never admit to your face but you had quickly become his favorite and he would do anything to protect you, protect your bond like his life depended on it

• And just like Peter, his mere presence seemed to make you finally feel whole again… complete

• And as time continued to pass you’d only grow closer with the two men, finding safety and comfort in their arms, safety and comfort you’d been craving since you were fourteen years old

• Then, Miles Morales came along and everything went to shit

• Despite being on his team for months Miguel failed to mention that there was a spider variant that was an anomaly

• And in failing to mention that you had to figure it out on your own when Miles’ scent hit your nose and he smelled drastically different from the other spider people

• He smelt odd, unnatural and unusual… strange

• It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was an anomaly but you still figured it out by the way his scent, and you thanked the stars for that particular gift you got from the species of spider that had bitten you

• After Miles, Hobie and Gwen returned from the rescue they accomplished in Pavitr’s dimension at the expense of Spot is when things went from bad to ultimately worse

• Miguel had hoped somewhere small in his chest that you would side with him but he knew in a significantly larger part of him that your morals would not allow you to stand for him preventing Miles from saving his father

• Miguel knew that if you had known your father would’ve been killed that horrible night those years ago that you would’ve interfered without hesitation

• So he was not confident that you’d agree with him and well over half of the rest of the spider variants that this is something that must occur

• And he feared the confrontation with you, he feared the hate he’d no doubt see in your eyes when you find out this is where he stood on his opinion about the situation

• He wasn’t wrong either, because when Miles had returned and they all had cornered him after Miles discovered that Spot would be the cause, you didn’t take it all that well—

You were conflicted, you cared about Miguel but you’re morals and beliefs were very important to you— defined who you were. They were instilled into you by your father and you truly believed that by following through with them to the end you were keeping his legacy alive.

And they were loud in your ears right now, deafening in their prominent voice as you watched Miles get more and more tightly wound.

The thing was.. you agreed with him. And your father would’ve agreed with him too. There is no way Miguel knows for absolute certainty that Miles’ universe would collapse if he saved his father. And there’s no way any of the other spider variants could possibly know either.

There were facts and evidence on Miguel’s side but again— your values were speaking much louder than him. Because your father would’ve been disgusted by the behavior these spider variants were displaying, and he would’ve straight up hated Miguel. That you were absolutely sure of.

“This is wrong Miguel,” you spoke up and the spider variant you were speaking of turned to look at you. “You’re just going to let someone die when you know you could change the outcome? How could you possibly think that’s okay?”

“[Y/Name]—”

“Spider-Man isn’t about the acceptance of loss and grief yet to come, Spider-Man is about hope, hope and promise of a greater tomorrow. Hope that there will always be someone there to help… someone there to protect those who can’t do so themselves.”

“The security of the multiverse is important!” Miguel argued, his tone aggressive and his expression frustrated as he ignored the ache on his chest. The ache that had erupted into existence at the expense of his theory proving correct— you would be against him.

“No! What’s important is not standing by and allowing someone to suffer or die! If that’s truly what you believe, then you don’t know the first damn thing about being Spider-Man!”

“[Y/Name]…” Peter B. trailed as he got your attention, walking closer to you and putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We cannot interfere.”

You smacked his hand off your shoulder and stepped back and away from him several times to be standing beside Miles instead. “You too? Peter this is wrong, so unbelievably fucking wrong!”

“[Y/Name], I can’t let you get in the way. I’m sorry.” Miguel apologized before he was throwing something at yours and Miles’ feet. The device activated and put up a scarlet force field, Miles panicked and beat against the walls. As the variants outside the force field argued you looked to Miguel and Miguel only. And he looked right back. You just stared at him, eyes hard and brows taut and pulled together as he stared right back.

You ignored Miles as he continued to search for a way out, Miguel finally pulled his eyes off yours as Peter B. advanced on him. “Miguel! This is taking it too far!”

“He’ll only do more damage, we all know that!”

As they continued to argue outside the shield you turned your back on Miguel and flexing your fingers extended your thick and powerful claws. You could tear this force field apart if you truly tried, that’s what you were going to do. But before you could even put your hands up your senses tingled and you instinctively put your arms around your head to protect yourself as the shield was destroyed by a powerful electrical surge.

When Miles destroyed the force field he hesitated for but a single moment before he turned, grabbed your wrist and took off.

“[Y/NAME]!”

You distantly heard behind you before you were freeing yourself from Miles to run beside him instead, and you two sprinted through Miguel’s headquarters with you leading him seeing as you’ve already been there for close to a little more than six months.

Getting out wasn’t hard, at least not for you. The variants certainly tried but they weren’t any match for you. A well seasoned and thoroughly trained hero with twelve years of polishing your expertise and craft to a fine point.

Miles had a little trouble keeping up but you didn’t get too far ahead of him in which he couldn’t follow, you two only got separated once. And whilst you weren’t entirely sure where he’d gone off to, you had the absolute pleasure of facing off against Miguel (note the sarcasm).

Your senses tingled as you discreetly swung through the underbelly of Miguel’s HQ, and you pulled yourself up just in time to avoid Miguel’s web. And the two of you fought and danced around each other throughout headquarters. Miguel trying to capture you and yourself avoiding that outcome at all costs by expertly evading him. When you had finally reached outside you met up again with Miles on the train overhead cover that was speeding upon a vertical track at astronomical velocity.

It was hard to hang on, even more so with Miguel on your ass but you made due. Better you than Miles and you’d gladly fend off Miguel for him if it meant he could find his way home to save his dad in time. Maybe it was a selfish part of you that wished something for him that you wanted to have, or maybe you truly just wished only the best for the younger variant.

Either way, Miguel was kicking your ass instead of his and you could live with that.

The 2099 Spider-Man choke slammed you onto the cold, hard metal of the futuristic locomotive and pinned you there by a hand around your neck.

“Can’t you see?! He’s the original anomaly! He’s not meant to be here! He is not Spider-Man!” The man snarled in your face. The anger he was feeling making his fangs appear and he sneered down at you, bearing them ferociously.

“He’s more Spider-Man than you’ll ever be!” You retaliated, attempting any sharp words pointed enough to cut him deep and painful. And you watched as his face turned and grew solemn for only one second before he was darkening his expression and snarling at you again.

“I hate to do this to you, but I can’t lose you over this!” He yelled over the roaring grind of the moving train. And your heart fell to your toes when he beared his fangs again— this time with a wide open mouth. A second later he was lunging forward intent to inject your body with venom.

You thanked whatever god above was listening for your much quicker reflexes as you caught him by the lower jaw and redirected his lunge to the air beside you instead.

Then you were bringing your legs up and forcing him away from you, not wasting a second you shot a web to the top car of the locomotive. You pulled yourself all the way up to where Miles had perched himself, and just before you could get a word out Miguel erupted out of nowhere and tackled Miles down.

You moved to help but got a web wrapped around your wrist instead, whoever shot it pulled you off your feet and then you found yourself under Peter B. Parker and Mayday instead.

“[Y/Name], enough!”

“No!”

“You can’t change destiny!” He argued, just as Miguel had done before, pinning you to the ground— though Peter’s was less of an attempt to capture you and just in a way to get you to listen to him.

“We control our own destiny Peter.”

“This’ll put the multiverse in danger! If you’d known your father would’ve been killed that night would you have saved him even if it meant there was an off-chance of your dimension being destroyed?!” Peter was just trying to reason with you now, and you stared directly into his warm brown eyes as you answered him.

“Without question.”

Peter drew back a bit at your response, then you watched behind him as Miguel flew overhead. That was your cue, so you grabbed Peter’s shoulders and utilized the enhanced strength of your specialty skills to push him off you.

Not enough to hurt him or Mayday but enough to give you space to escape, which you did. Once given enough breathing room to leap you leapt, jumping from the locomotive to fly through the air instead. Miles followed you, and Miguel was right behind.

You didn’t get much of that end of the chase, swinging directly to the headquarters and sneaking in past Kess and standing on the platform the machine usually used to send variants back to their proper dimensions.

It was minutes later when the machine suddenly came to life and you watched as the numerous screens turned on, looking a little closer you saw that it was Miles and that he was using his invisibility power to get the machine up and going.

Seconds later you felt his presence land beside you, and as the mechanical spider above lowered down and began creating the web to send Miles home and consequently you to his universe— Miguel erupted through the glass doors like a bat out of Hell.

And you stood back and watched as he sprinted to the platform’s edge, leapt over the gap and began furiously clawing at the web’s exterior.

Just as he was pulling it apart, the sequence completed and you and Miles were lifted into the air as the portal was created before the machine was throwing the two of you through the multiverse and into Miles’ universe.

• After the exhausting and frustrating chase, and even more annoying escape you and Miles had made.. you decided to follow him to his dimension, if only just to see that he’d be okay

• But he took off the second he was back in his own universe (or so you thought) and you were quick to follow, calling out his name in an attempt to get him to slow down but he did not listen

• So you just followed as he swiftly made his way to his apartment, only upon arrival you decided it might be best if you stayed outside which is exactly what you did, and you listened as he told his mom the truth and she responded with a question of her own not knowing who he was referring to

• When your spider senses started tingling uncontrollably is when you though something might be wrong so you webbed yourself to the roof of the building directly across Miles’ apartment and just observed from there

• As you watched him interact with a man that you assumed was his uncle your senses tingled again only it was too late to react when a muscled arm wrapped around your waist and a gloved hand covered your mouth, and then you were pulled backwards and through the portal into another dimension

• Upon arrival at the new universe you were pinned to the ground on your stomach by a heavy weight much larger and much stronger atop you, holding your arms in the small of your back and forcing you tighter against the ground

• You knew it was Miguel and you knew that unlike back at headquarters this pinch would be tighter to get yourself out of— so you didn’t intend to fight against him, you’d already done more than enough for Miles and on the off chance he still needed you then and only then would you fight for him again

• Until then, you’d accepted the fact you’d been captured, so you slumped to the rain soaked concrete of the building’s roof, and as you lay there you could only hope Miles had reached his father on time

—

a/n: Feel like it got kinda lame at the end but I hope you enjoyed the first post of the blog regardless! I’m super excited to get this blog started! Spiderverse is my hyper-fixation right now so that’s what I’ll be focusing on for a moment! Again, hope you enjoyed! Ciao!

[o-sachi]

Shidou Ryusei ‧₊˚ ⋅ Relationship Heacanons + Mini Scenario

ଳ character; shidou ryusei (blue lock) ଳ tags; sfw, gn reader, no y/n

— Slow burn? What’s that? Neither of you know the concept of it because once you found each other… there was just absolutely no letting go. I mean, you have to be the rarest catch ever to be able to match the freak of Shidou Ryusei. Everything between you happens fast.

— Fast as it is, he’ll never let you forget how much he loves you. He’s so aggressive with his loving too (good luck; you’ll need it). Frenzied kisses, hugs that squeeze the life outta you, and all the weirdly sweet compliments are some of the things you can expect from him.

— Not much of a surprise, but the love language that he likes to give and receive would be physical touch. And we know he’s freaky as hell, but the touches don’t always have to be sexual. In fact, he looooves it when you pat his head and massage his scalp. It’s literally the only time when he’s calm and quiet.

— He never takes you out on dates and you don’t complain. Well, he doesn’t take you out on the TYPICAL kinds of dates. Neither of you like dinner dates or movie nights; they’re too boring. You’d much rather go get takeout at 2 AM and eat it in the parking lot. If it’s not spontaneous, then it has to be something that leaves both of you out of breath—laser tag, amusement parks, and paintball to name a few.

— Despite being on the same wavelength, you still fight quite a lot. However, it’s never so serious that you start shouting and hurting each other emotionally. Actually… most of your quarrels are super childish. The last thing you fought about was whether or not Gege should bring Gojo back. Spoiler alert: he’s a Gojo hater.

— I can totally imagine him watching anime with you. He’s lowkey a weeb, trust. It’s actually one of the more calm moments you have with him. That is, if you consider him reacting to every little thing happening to be calm. Best believe he’s shouting at the screen at the most hype moments of the show. He Naruto runs unironically btw.

— He’s… shockingly the possessive type? Like I can imagine that it took him forever to find someone like you, so the prospect of losing you to someone else pisses him the fuck off. He won’t try to hide it too. He’ll still be all sweet with you, but when you look away—whoever tried to poach you will be facing his wrath.

— People are convinced the two of you can communicate telepathically. You can just give each other a look and you both already know what it means. Soooo many inside jokes that if someone else heard the two of you talk, they’d give you a weird look.

— People wouldn’t usually invite Shidou out, unless you would be tagging along. With you around, Shidou isn’t much of a menace. The two of you become the fun couple that livens up the gathering. In short, y’all some crazy fun.

ᯓ Dancing scenario

It was one of those lazy Sundays that the two of you would spend hanging out in your bedroom. It was unusually quiet as both of you were busy scrolling through your phones. A different audio blaring from each of your devices while you scrolled through several Tiktoks.

"Ryu, look at this one," you say, thrusting the phone into his face. "Let's do this dance."

It was one of the simpler dances you found. Everything else was too complicated for the both of you to do in synchrony. You gave him some time to watch it twice and he grins.

The way he hurriedly got off the bed was enough to let you know that he was up for it. You followed suit, preparing your phone to record the two of you dancing like idiots.

Shidou was already practicing on the side. "Heh, this is easy!" But, alas, he was doing it horribly wrong as he always did.

Finally getting the phone ready, you smirk at his silly attempt at the dance and approach him. "You got it all wrong!"

Of course, he insists that he was doing it flawlessly. But you still show him how to do it. About 15 minutes have passed before he became decent at the moves. It's not like you wanted perfection—the mediocrity of your moves makes it funnier anyway. But at the very least, you wanted him to be able to resemble the dance.

"Alright, alright, just hit the record button already. Don't be so fussy. I dance better than you do!"

You playfully glare at him. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Once the phone started recording, you hurriedly went to your place beside him. The music starts and you were able to hit the first few moves. But as you neared the end, Shidou did a different move.

"See? Who messed up first?"

He doesn't own up to it, of course. Shidou, instead, demands for a 2nd take...

then another...

then one more...

then another take...

then, you finally couldn't take it anymore because how is it possible that the more you do it—the more mistakes the both of you do? In the last take, unfortunately, you were the one who messed up.

He gave you that look and you already knew he was going to rub it in your face.

"Hah! Told you I'm the better dancer."

Oh... he did not just say that.

Without another thought, you pounced on him like a wild animal. He should be thankful that your bed caught him, otherwise he wouldn't be attending football practice tomorrow.

You were a self-proclaimed jiu-jitsu fighter when it came to playfighting with him. Well, you don't know the moves or even the name of the moves—but the point is that you have to make him tap out no matter what.

To some extent, this was your little way of showing cuteness aggression—more so the aggression part. Sometimes he just gets on your nerves and this is the only thing that appeases you.

The two of you roll around on the bed, trying to gain leverage over the other. At some point, both of you almost fell off the bed. But he caught the both of you fast enough and flung you back to the other side of the bed.

As he recovered from that, you slipped him into a chokehold. It was a light one, of course. It wasn't like you wanted him to actually pass out.

"What? Gonna tap out?"

He smirks back at your cocky expression and taps your thigh to let you know he was throwing in the towel. He gave up without much of a fight, but that was his own way of letting you know how whipped he is for you.

Shidou might not be good with words, but you fall for his actions nonetheless.

You smile triumphantly at him. "Guess that makes me the better fighter huh?"

A devilish grin stretches across his dark expression

"I demand a round 2."

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part One: My Boyfriend's Father

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

It was 15 months ago when you first met the man who, unbeknownst to you, would eventually become the center of your disastrous life and that man was not your current boyfriend Maximilian Murphy, a twenty-two-year-old Irishman from Dublin.

You had been going out with Max for about a year when you met the man who changed everything for you and, whilst Max was almost an entire year younger than you, you had both met at London's top medical school after he had transferred from Trinity College. 

Max was energetic, confident and intelligent. He was popular with the girls and, although you were drawn to him because of his sense of humor and easygoing nature, it was quite obvious to you that he was much less serious about life in general than you were. 

After a year of non-serious dating, Max eventually told you that he was taking you to Dublin for his father's 46th birthday and it was then when you first laid eyes on him. Cillian Murphy, your boyfriend's father. 

The name "Cillian Murphy" didn't ring any bells for you at the time as you had never seen any of his films, but now, 15 months later, you knew everything that there was to know about him due to the publicity his movie Oppenheimer had received in recent weeks. 

You went to see the movie too with some friends and whilst you had broken up with Max about a year earlier, you happened to recall the weekend you shared with him and his family in Dublin. 

Both Cillian and his wife Danielle made you feel welcome when you arrived with their son Max late on a Friday afternoon at their large Victorian townhouse near the coast, just outside Dublin.

The house was decorated with tasteful modern furniture and a collection of modern art hung on the walls. The living room featured large windows overlooking the sea with heavy curtains blocking the view when needed.

You spent most of Saturday relaxing by the pool with Max, swimming and sunbathing before enjoying a dinner prepared by Danielle for her husband's birthday.

As you sat down at the table, Cillian seemed distracted, and it wasn't until the second glass of wine that he asked you more about yourself and your aspirations.

"So, what do you want to specialize in?" he asked and you looked down at your plate and replied softly, "I haven't decided yet. I think I might enjoy working in pediatrics."

"Working with children can be emotionally demanding," Cillian said, "but I am sure it's  incredibly rewarding," he then went on to say before acknowledging that Max had told him that you were at the top of your class. 

"It sounds like you have a bright future ahead of you," he told you and your heart fluttered a bit as you heard his voice, deep and resonant, filled with warmth and confidence. It was a contrast to Max's playful teasing, something about which made you feel comfortable and safe.

Danielle, Cillian's wife, chimed in with a question for you, "What got you interested in medicine in the first place?" she asked. You paused for a moment, considering how best to explain such a complex answer.

"Well, my dad was a doctor, so healthcare was a part of our household growing up," you began thoughtfully. "But the real turning point came during high school when I visited a friend who was hospitalized with leukemia. Her doctors and nurses took such great care of her, and it really opened my eyes to the impact that medicine could have on people's lives."

Cillian nodded along, seemingly genuinely interested in your response.

"That's amazing," he murmured. "You are genuinely empathetic and that's a good trait to have, especially as a doctor," he went on to say with a smile and you couldn't help but blush slightly under his intense gaze. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through you, making you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn't felt before. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, you found yourself strangely drawn to him. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you want to spend more time with him despite the fact that he was twice your age.

The day after his birthday party, while you were lounging around the poolside, you couldn't help but notice Cillian looking at you intently from across the lawn. His eyes held a mysterious glint, a curiosity that seemed to grow stronger every minute.

As if sensing your presence, he approached you and started a friendly conversation. The topics ranged from movies to books, and even personal interests. It was a pleasant surprise finding out that both of you shared a love for Jazz before Max pointed out to you that Jazz music was for "old people", causing Cillian to laugh.

The sound of Cillian's laughter was soothing and comforting.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as adrenaline surged through your veins. You tried to compose yourself, focusing on the casual exchange of small talk, hoping to distract yourself from the strong attraction you felt towards your own boyfriend's father.

But no matter how hard you tried, those enchanting blue eyes kept drawing you back in. The subtle smell of his cologne lingered in the air, filling your senses with a mix of excitement and shame.

Luckily for you however, on Sunday morning, Max and you travelled back to London, leaving behind the memory of the lingering gaze that Cillian gave you as you boarded the plane while, in hindsight, you realized that Cillian's gaze did leave something behind - a seed planted between the lines of your otherwise innocent encounter.

In the months that followed, you found yourself thinking about Cillian more often than you expected and, unfortunately for Max, at the same time as fantasizing about his father, you became more and more annoyed by his immaturities. 

And then, one evening, after another argument between you and Max over whether you should go clubbing or stay in and study, you finally snapped.

"This isn't working out anymore, Max," you told it him straight. "We need different things in life and we would be better off breaking up now rather than prolonging something that won't work long term," you told Max, sitting on the bed of his dorm room, causing his chin to drop.

"You don't mean it," he said, sounding shocked.

"Yes, I do," you said firmly as you looked away from him, knowing that he wouldn't understand why you couldn't go on like this.

"No, please, give me another chance. We can make this work," Max pleaded, moving closer to you, reaching out to touch your arm.

"No, Max, I've made up my mind," you said firmly, avoiding his pleading eyes.

You knew that it was only a matter of time before Max would come to terms with the truth, but you also knew that the process would be painful for both of you.

Max moved closer, grasping your hand gently. "Maybe we just need to communicate better," he suggested, his eyes full of hope. "I love you, you know. I am happy to try anything," he continued but you shook your head.

You pulled your hand away, fighting back tears. "I just... I can't anymore, Max," you whispered quietly. "We tried to make it work several times, but our expectations are quite different. I am taking university serious, but you are not. You have different interests and I think that you would be better of with someone else," you confessed, averting your gaze.

"But... but, what about the future? What about us?" Max stammered, desperation seeping into his tone. You remained silent, allowing the silence to hang heavily between you two. Finally, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to lose you, Y/N," Max pleaded, his voice quivering. "We have been together for a year, surely we can find a way to make it work. I promise."

You shook your head sadly, unable to meet his desperate gaze.

"We are both still young and year is nothing if you are in your early twenties. I'm sorry, Max," you managed to whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I think it's best if we end things here."

He let out a choked sob, his face crumpling. "Please," he implored, clutching onto your wrist. "Don't leave me like this."

But you couldn't stand it any longer, pulling your arm free. "I need space, Max," you said sharply, rising to your feet.

"I need to focus on myself and my studies right now," you told him while, deep down inside, you knew that something was missing, something was holding you back from fully committing to your relationship.

And it wasn't long before fate intervened as, just over year after your breakup with Max, you ran into Cillian again at a jazz concert in London...

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[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Idk if I posted this before but something that sticks out to me about the Nimona movie is the subway scene where they pull up to the station where Ambrosius and all the guards are waiting, and when Ballister lays eyes on him, the first thing he feels is fear

I tried exploring this in one of my fics but like-- does anyone realize how fucked up that is. That kind of immediate, knee jerk response does NOT go away easily. When I see my best friend, I feel happy and excited, sometimes annoyed if he did something to piss me off, sometimes nervous or guilty if I did something to piss him off, but you know what I never ever felt upon merely seeing his face? Immediate and intense fear for my life.

Imagine him trying to heal and every time he sees his boyfriend it's a jumpscare for months. Every time he sees his boyfriend he has to remind himself that he's not going to hurt him. EVERY TIME he looks at his boyfriend and for just a moment, sees a threat.

I hid the deeper analysis and comparison below a read-more because I'm sure not everyone cares, but it's especially interesting as a writer for both the comic and movie dynamics. Like both these couples have insane trauma to work through, but it is NOT even remotely the same kind of trauma.

Blackheart has to work through anger, bitterness, and years of betrayal, and while I'm certain Boldheart would get some of that, it wouldn't be nearly on the same level. His Ambrosius had a far more valid reason for attacking him, his Ambrosius apologized quickly and showed earnest remorse from the get-go. Blackheart was emotionally and physically betrayed out of nowhere for no good reason and he didn't get an apology or explanation for a decade and a half and his Ambrosius continued to fight with him that entire time.

At the same time, Blackheart was never afraid of his Ambrosius. I can reckon there was some fear after the initial incident, but it's not shown. He knows that Ambrosius won't kill him just like Ambrosius knows Blackheart won't kill him. Ambrosius isn't a real threat to him in the least, he's more just a nuisance that gets in the way of his plans because that's the silly little game they both agreed to play. Their whole lives for fifteen years was a conscious, weird, fucked up little game of cops and robbers and neither of them really took it seriously, both of them continued to try and protect each other (from Nimona and the Director)

Boldheart for all intents and purposes believed Ambrosius was trying to kill him. He nearly did kill him. He believed Ambrosius would hear him out, but he also believed Ambrosius was prepared to kill him if necessary.

In either case it would be tremendously difficult to trust the other person again. But the unique flavor of angst presented by the movie situation is just OOF

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE MAFIA BOSS KUROO TETSUROU HEADCANONS

Kuroo as a mafia boss would be stronger than usual, fierce, ferocious and hell even DEADLY to his enemies. His gang Nekoma along with Karasuno are the topmost mafia gangs in the country and they team up together sometimes to wipe out their competition. One day as the Nekoma members were coming back from a mission which btw, involved causing some chaos and stirring up some ruckus for their rival gang Shiratorizawa without the Karasuno members, as his gang members were talking about how stupid their henchmen were and how predictable and easy they were to attack, Kuroo stayed silent since his head was throbbing a little and had a headache. He just needed some god damn peace once in a while and so, he stayed silent as he rubbed his temples in annoyance and glanced at the setting sun. As his eyes wandered around the place, he then noticed you sitting on a tree branch, trying to rescue a cat that got stuck up a tree. 'What the heck is that girl doing?' he was confused and yet, he began to watch you with fascination but grew alarmed when he realized the branch was about to break. He then quickly raced over to you to protect you from hitting the ground and asked you if you were all right. Then, he winked at you and said, ''Stay safe sweetheart, don't wanna go getting in trouble again now do we?'' and with that, he went on his way while his friends were just looking at him like deer caught in headlights. Some of them teased him about it and Kenma kept his cool since he was sensible not to do stupid shit like teasing the bossman

After some days, he slowly started to think of you and he grew obsessed with you. He ordered his men to find out more about you, what your interests were, relationships with people, which he hated since he was convinced that they were just trying to use and taint a sweet precious little thing like you, your dislikes, your favorite places to go and hang out and stuff like that. Heck, he'll even send Kenma and Lev to keep an eye on you for your safety which in modern terms is what we call 'Stalking'

He'll kidnap you after a few weeks or so after he's sure he knows everything about you but he'll be prepared to stock your favorite books, chocolates, warm fuzzy blankets, movies, stuffed animals and maybe even a pet like that cat you've rescued from the tree that day. He knows you'll be confused, scared and worried and hence, he'll take his time and be very sweet and kind and caring and patient with you to let you adjust to your new home

The other members of his gang will warm up to you and they'll be platonic yanderes for you, congratulations. Kenma is in charge of your security since Kuroo trusts him alot. No one dares to flirt with you and may the gods save them if someone does something stupid as that

If you try acting up or try escaping, he's just going to be hurt and heartbroken and so, instead of punishing you and locking you in a room and all that dark shit, he'll cuddle you instead and kiss you softly telling you how he should have paid more attention to you

He loves cuddle sessions with you and feels very relieved when you run and rake your fingers through his hair. He finds it very relaxing

Will never yell at you, or raise his hands at you or HECK, he won't even manipulate you emotionally or physically. He thinks you deserved to be treated like an angel and best believe it, he WILL treat you like one

Some idiot during a mafia meeting found out about you and tried touching you in an inappropriate manner and Kuroo had the most scariest and fiercest glare as he just broke that person's jaw and shot him in the head like, 5 times and then seethed in rage, ''No one touches what's mine!''. Later on when he saw how nervous you were about the whole thing, you guys snuggled with each other, Kuroo comforting you and eating cup noodles with some light jazz playing softly with some dim lights on

Loves you alot and he's gonna make you sit on his lap during meetings which will make you shy and you'll be even MORE flustered when he kisses your neck, cheek and leaves hickeys all over you or grabs you from behind. What? He's just trying to prove everyone that you're his.....

[a-dance-for-two]

Heyo, I wanted to ask for a Wu Kong, Macaque or Red Son x fem! Reader

I just finished watching Grave of the Fireflies for the first time and I cried for half of it so I’m just in major need of some fluff and comfort (seriously I will never emotionally recover from this /hj)

Oh no, I’ve heard that movie is really sad, I hope you feel better soon! Sad movies always manage to make me upset for days. I couldn’t choose, so you’ll just get all three, thank you so much for requesting!

Wukong, Macaque and Red Son sad movie hcs

Wukong

Yeah, he chose the movie

He thought it would just be an excuse to cuddle because you’d get a little upset

But he didn’t expect you to start crying

He felt really really bad, and didn’t know what to do

He just held you and wiped away your tears

Macaque

You chose the movie

He didn’t really want to watch it

He didn’t understand why he you got upset about it, but he tried his best to comfort you

He tried to tell you a joke but it was the stupidest thing ever

But since it was so stupid, it managed to make you laugh

Red Son

He’s a sucker for sad movies, but he’d never tell

He was crying with you

Luckily, he was prepared with tissues and tons of pillows

He was a bit too dramatic about it though

You couldn’t bring it up for a week afterwards without him ‘wiping a tear from his eye’

[mannequinreligi0n]

Hello! I'm kinda new at making ask so sorry in advance! Can you make some romance and fluff headcanons with DMC4 Dante? Thank you :)

Ps: sorry about grammar - English is not my first language

Absolutely, I can !!! Thank you so much for the request <3

DMC4 Dante relationship headcanons

SFW, GN

If you have the honor of winning the demon hunter’s heart, be prepared for being put through the ringer emotionally.

Late nights and weeks of nothing but the occasional letter are going to be the norm, unfortunately, considering he’s married to his work.

BUT when Dante is home, he makes sure all of his free-time is spent making up for his absence.

Never much of a romantic, he won’t take you to fancy dinners or extravagant dates - but rest assured, you’ll never be bored or feel any less valued.

Breakfast in bed, movie marathons, and competitive video game matches will make it feel like you two are just like any other domestic relationship.

Cases of empty beers shared between you two as you spill secrets and swap memories til the sun rises.

He hogs all the blankets at night. And it doesn’t matter how many time you try to yank them back, you’ll always be stuck with only the end corner to keep you warm. (Little do you know, this is an intentional ploy so you’ll cuddle up with him throughout the night).

Dante’s love language is absolutely touch. Not necessarily in a sleazy way (though he’s not without his moments), but more like a puppy dog. He’ll curl into your lap as you watch tv, despite his massive frame. Whine and complain when you stop playing with his hair, even if you’ve been doing it nonstop for the past hour. There’s not a moment of independence when Dante is with you.

Dante will feel guilty for not being able to settle down and be a proper boyfriend to you; it will definitely mess with him and possibly even psyche him out of the relationship as a whole. But, with your constant reassurance and unconditional love, he’ll do his best to be present for you and your situationship.

[hisunshiine]

—"lemme swallow your pride" [2/7]

Part 2 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️ pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️ au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut, 🗓️ rating: M 🗓️ wc: 3,629 🗓️ warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, jealousy, using sex to deflect, explicit sexual content: oral (m receiving), spitting, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, light degradation (cum slut), praise, shaft riding, mutual orgasm    🗓️ an: part 2 is here! And yes, based on the title alone, I am sure you are able to figure out exactly what type of sex this story focuses on.  🗓️ summary: “Open up say ahhh, Come here, baby, let me swallow your pride…” Jungkook comes over for an impromptu movie night that triggers some internal angst. You share a little, and he shares a lot... and your angst turns a little green. To change the topic when it gets a little too deep, you deepthroat him.

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)

“I need butter for my popcorn!” Jungkook is his usual whiny self as he stands in the kitchen, taking up space in the most unhelpful way as you prepare snacks for a movie night he planned in his own head and decided to carry out in your living room.

“Go finish the blanket fort, or whatever you were building in the living room,” you order with a small shove to his back, “I will put ample butter on the popcorn—this is not my first Jungkook Movie Night rodeo.”

Jungkook turns to shoot a glare at you over his shoulder, but he shuffles out of the kitchen to the living room without additional fuss. You resume your task, opening another packet of popcorn to cook in the microwave, then search the fridge for a stick of salted butter. Once it sounds like most of the kernels have metamorphosed into fluffy crunch balls of love, you swap the packet for the bowl of butter and let it melt.

Over the hum of the microwave, you can hear Jungkook whistling the main track to the movie he picked, his body appearing in your line of sight every few seconds as he shifts around the room to finish his task.

The beeps signaling the melted butter is ready cause you to jump a little, with how engrossed you are in watching him move. As a male nurse, he’s quite fit. You’re well acquainted with how fit he is, and you can’t help but admire his body when he’s wearing a white, sleeveless, ribbed tank top and black Nike shorts. 

Wistfully, you look down at your own comfy outfit, sleep shorts and a shirt Jungkook left at your place eons ago, wishing you could look as hot as he does without effort. Switching focus, you turn your eyes to the microwave and top off the large bowl full of popped corn with waterfalls of butter for your savory snack. (Whether the savory snack is the popcorn or Jungkook, you’ll never tell!)

“Hurry up! I’m wasting away here!” he’s over-the-top dramatic right now, something you’ve experienced with him before. Whenever he’s lost a patient at work, he doesn’t like to talk about what happened and often can’t because of patient confidentiality, but he seeks out comfort in ways like this: creating a soft place to hideout, comfort foods and movies, and begging for all of your attention. You never ask him about it, and you’re sure it has to do with the last patient he saw before arriving late last night. You think the theatrics are his way of lightening his soul from the sadness, and you’re unable to resist.  

“Oh dear, what will Ggukkie do without this small snack?” you ask as you carry the large bowl into the dim room. 

“Fuck, yes!” He reaches for the bowl so you can settle onto the couch, ducking your head under the blanket he’s strategically strewn across the top of the couch with well-positioned pillows and dining room chairs.

Pressing play on your smart TV remote, you both settle in with a blanket over your laps as the opening scene reveals people trapped in traffic and then Jungkook’s melodious voice quietly sings along to ‘Another Day of Sun’.

Leaning your head onto his shoulder, you sink into the show tunes—made better by Jungkook’s voice—and let yourself become immersed in the characters’ problems, forgetting your own. 

“I hate this movie, Jungkook, and you always make us watch it,” you sniffle, rubbing at your eyes. “It’s just so real, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I love it. I think it’s a true take on the real world—tragic—but realistic.”

You fiddle with the frayed edges of the throw blanket on your lap as Jungkook begins clearing the empty bowl and mostly empty glasses of apple juice from the coffee table.

“Sometimes I like to escape real life, though, you know? I—never mind. What’s next on the movie agenda?” you question, but Jungkook returns to plop down next to you, practically sitting on top of your lap, and won’t let you deflect.

“No, no, talk to me. What’s on your mind? You’ve been thinking a lot lately. Almost couldn’t sleep last night because of it.” 

“Hey, I was sleeping, but someone decided to tire us both out even more, if I remember correctly.”

“Apples and oranges, babe. I even made it to work for my meeting before shift started. So tell me what you were about to say, or I’ll tickle it out of you.”

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, his face set in determined seriousness, and you know from your own experiences that once he starts tickling, he won’t stop until you’re screaming for sweet release from the painful pleasure that is his fingers dancing across the soles of your feet, your neck, or your tummy and ribs.

“Fine. I hate La La Land, because they went through all of that, supporting one another through pursuing their dreams, just for them to not end up together in the end? It’s not the escape from reality that I want in a movie.” You keep your eyes down on the blanket, top teeth worrying your bottom lip.

He says your name softly as he takes one of your fidgeting hands into his larger one. “I feel like there’s more to it. Talk to me, babe.” He stresses the second sentence, and you can tell his doe eyes are searching—no—yearning to make contact with yours.  

“I know you probably aren’t even like…thinking about this kind of shit yet, but Yoongi is getting married. This weekend. And of course, my mom has been hounding me now,” you raise your voice an octave higher to mimic your mom, “saying ‘When are you next? Your younger brother is getting married, and you can’t even give me grandchildren yet.’ I hate it.

“And this movie just makes me scared that I’ll end up in something like it, in a relationship that serves as nothing but a chapter in my life, instead of being the whole book. That I’ll waste time with someone who’s not going to be there a few weeks, months, or years from now.”

Jungkook settles back against the couch with a hum, strong arms folded across his chest. “That’s tough, babe. I can imagine this feeling has gotten worse now too, what with Yoongi’s wedding looming. You know what’s crazy—you’re not the first person to say something similar.”

“Really? Who else do you know has a younger sibling getting married and is feeling the pressure?”

“Actually, you remember SoHee?” Jungkook asks timidly. You do. SoHee is another nurse who used to work with Jungkook at the hospital, but Yoongi helped her get hired at the high school you work at as the school nurse. It’s summer break, so you haven’t seen her in weeks, but of course you remember her.

“Yeah, we work together, duh.”

Jungkook tries and fails to hide the smile building on his face, small dimples appearing to frame his chiseled jawline as he begins to talk about her. 

“Well, she’s picked up a few shifts here and there at the hospital, since it’s summer break and all, and we’ve been texting again. She’s actually a lot like you…But we were just talking the other night, and she was saying how she’s been worried about turning 30 next year, and not being married with kids yet.”

“Do I talk about this a lot?” you ponder. 

“I mean, not like a lot, but it seems to be a theme or something for all the ladies in my life who are a little older than me.”

“Ladies in your life?” You try to keep your tone level, but your face always gives you away. You can feel the way your energy shifts as you tilt your head and raise an eyebrow (or attempt to raise just one eyebrow) to look back at him. 

“Yeah, you, SoHee, some of the other nurses and doctors I talk to at work.” Jungkook spreads his legs wider, and his arms drape along the back of the couch as he settles deeper into the cushions. “SoHee just said she wasn’t interested in, like, playing games, or whatever. She’s said she’s done sleeping around and going out clubbing because she wants to develop something real. It’s something all of you say, all of the older women.”

You internally cringe at the way he refers to you as an ‘older woman’, and your chest tightens at being lumped together with others. You’re his best friend, hell, you take better care of his dick than you take care of your car—what with you topping off his fluids more than your Hyundai and all. To shake the uncomfortable feeling away and climb back out of the hole of deep feelings, you do what you do best. Turn it into something humorous, sexual, or both. In this instance, you go for both. 

“Why are we talking about deep feelings instead of deep throating?”

Jungkook’s boisterous laugh fills your living room, and fills the holes in your heart.

“I don’t know, but I think I’d like to talk more about deep throating.”

Sliding off the couch and positioning yourself between Jungkook’s spread knees, you place your palms on each of his thighs. He reflexively flexes his quads at the touch, and you see him visibly gulp in anticipation.

“Me too.” Though, you have no plans of talking—just doing; showing. You do love to perform for him.

Your hands slowly traverse to the waistband of his black shorts, the soft fabric allowing your fingers to slide up with ease, and the stretchy waistband allowing them to slide down around his muscular thighs without resistance. You release them to pool around his slippered feet, eyes only focusing on the way his proud appendage takes on a darkening, blush-colored hue as his hands grip the edge of his tight tank and pull it up to reveal his six-pack. You take note that he’s shaved his happy trail, leaving an unblemished view that directs you to his pride and joy.

Licking your lips, you shuffle closer and rise up higher on your knees so that you can greet his cock with your moistened mouth—tiny pecks that tease Jungkook so he’ll make your favorite sounds. Your eyes shift to his—brown and dilated in desire.

Gathering your spit, your hand holds his shaft still so that you can slowly drip the clear secretion to meet his tip, watching him watch you slather it from top to bottom as you begin to ready him for what’s to come. (Hint: it’s him). Dropping lower, you take the blushing head into your mouth, tongue swirling around as you get a good taste of the pearlescent pre-cum that accumulated from your strokes. Jungkook squirms minimally each time your tongue brushes the bottom of his cock, sensitive to your ministrations.

“Fucking tease, you know that?” he asks you, and you just smile—or smile as best you can with his cock in your mouth. 

Taking him deeper into your mouth, you break eye contact so that you can add some vigor to your movements, lips wrapping around your teeth to protect his shaft from any accidental nips. He reaches the back of your throat, leading you to gag, which was your goal. Your mouth fills with more spit, the fluid allowing faster movement as you ease back to the first half of his cock, your hand working from the base to meet your lips. 

It’s sloppy, and the sounds of your hydrous cock-sucking mix with curses and strangled iterations of your name. Jungkook’s hands move from clenching the fabric of the abandoned blanket and couch to your face—he loves to hold your cheeks and feel the way they hollow out as you blow him, his eyes never moving from the view. 

Your eyelashes, wet from choking on him, make you look so innocent when you peek up at him through them—but the way your pouty lips envelop him, bobble-heading in his lap, remind him that you are anything but. Your spit is everywhere. It dribbles down from the base of his shaft, runs in small rivers between your fingers, caresses his heavy sack that’s waiting to spill its load and cover your tongue. It even begins to slip towards his puckered hole, and thoughts spin in his head of the things he would ask you to do if—but you’re not.

“How?” he probes with a rasp, knowing you can’t answer. “How can you look like an angel, but—shit, babe—” He throws his head back into the couch unwillingly. “You fuck me and suck me like the devil.” 

Your following chuckle makes his hips thrust up, and you gag around him as the tip enters your throat. A hand slips into your hair, messy and falling around your face, but feeling your throat embrace his head in a warm and wet squeeze has him gripping your hair. It’s just the right amount of pain, he’s not pulling your hair up, just tugging some strands into his fist held close to your scalp. 

Your clit throbs between your thighs, aching and untouched, but this? Making a strong, virile man turn into figurative putty in your literal hands? Nothing makes you feel more confident, more beautiful, and empowered. And if there is, you haven’t experienced it yet.

“Fuck, baby—I—shit!” Jungkook doesn’t know whether you want him to pull out or not, his hands attempting to both pull you off and bring your nose closer to his pelvis, but you don’t stop. Sucking and allowing the spit to run as you speed up, both hands adding friction and pressure—one to the shaft and one to his balls—lewd sounds a cacophony as he feels that spot inside him tighten before he’s weeping rivers of cum into your waiting mouth.

You press your palms flat to the tops of his thighs, holding your balance as his body writhes on the couch. Your mouth keeps a tight grip on his cock as you glide up and down to milk him, breathing controlled as you inhale and exhale through your nose.

“Baby, you’re so fucking good at that…my own little cumslut, hungry for my cock,” Jungkook speaks once he’s able to form words, letting you know you could sit back on your heels. His praise touches you more than either of you know and are willing to share, your inner goddess preening under his heated gaze and soft caresses. “Show me.”

Opening your mouth, you allow him to see the aqueous ejaculate coating your tongue. His tattooed hand grips your chin as he peers inside. He radiates a post-orgasm haze, his smile loose and wide.

“Swallow.” You instantly snap your mouth shut and his hand moves to wrap his fingers around your throat so he can feel you physically swallow him down. You smile in response, and like the hazard to your health that he is, he connects his lips to yours, tongue forging ahead to taste the remnants of himself in your mouth. He groans, his hands tugging at your waist until you’re straddling him. 

“Use me however you need.” 

You know what he’s saying, knows he can’t do much with his cock after the Gawk Gawk 7000 you delivered, but he’s trusting you. His body is at your disposal for however you need to get off. It won’t take long; the throbbing between your legs is echoed with the rushing of blood in your veins, begging for you to find your release through pleasure.

Hands push Jungkook’s taught pectorals until he’s laying on the couch. Pulling your sleep shorts to the side, you steer your legs to straddle his waist so that you can slide your dripping pussy along his softening shaft. You take up a stirring motion, allowing a delicious friction to your clit on his spit-covered rod, you reach for Jungkook’s hands where they’re resting above him and bring them to your chest.

Whining, you realize it’s not enough, not what you actually want, but Jungkook knows you and knows your body even better. Your body talks to him about its wants and needs the way he wishes you would open up to him; the same way his cock is able to split you open like a blooming flower and penetrate to the deepest parts. He lowers his hands to the hem of his shirt (it looks better on you) and sneaks underneath. He holds your breasts, fingers tightening and releasing in time to your hips and you cry out, your own hands laying on top of his as if clutching him to your chest as you rock on his sensitive length with growing urgency. 

“C’mon baby, swallow your pride and let go. It’s okay if it’s fast, it’s hot,” Jungkook shares, “means I was able to take care of my baby the same way you took care of me.”

“Say it again?”

“What part?” he goads, once again loving that when he has you like this, so desperately wet and delirious off of his cum, you’re honest and open. 

“Your baby,” your tone reflects a neediness that has his cock hardening quickly in combination with your frantic ruts. His hands tighten on your boobs again briefly before he glides them to your back and pulls you down so your chest to chest. He knows exactly how to speak to you, how to lower his voice and soothe your ego into cumming for him, on him, so he can soothe his ego.

“Cum for me, wanna see my baby feel good.” His right hand curls a loose strand of hair around your left ear, an endearing touch to make you feel safe and loved and willing to allow your pussy to make a mess of him. “Fuck—baby, my baby, your pussy feels so good, gonna make me cum again? You want me to cum with you, princess?”

Hearing him call you princess—well, it does something to you. You let out a high, throaty whine, a keening call that sings to his soul. And when you call for him, say his name in that whine, syllables broken up in the same pattern of your hips oscillating—fuck. Jungkook hears the extra release of your orgasm, feels the way your unfilled hole clenches at the base of his cock, and he watches as your body freezes. 

You want him close, but he pushes your shoulder firmly, but gently, so he can see the way his rosy cock is cupped against his lower abdomen thanks to your pretty, puffy pussy.

“Look, princess, look what you do to me.”

You pry your eyes open with sheer will as the aftershocks continue to cause you to tremble from your throne atop him. Looking down where Jungkook holds your shirt taut so you can see his fat, peeking head between your thighs, you watch as cum dribbles out slowly from the slit, his perfect and glorious steel cock exuding the proof that he thinks you’re too blind to realize. 

In actuality, you’re so fucked out by him, that you don’t think it means anything more than what he says. You do this to him. You make him feel so euphoric that he’s unable to refrain from covering himself in lust and desire for you. There’s a part of you that wishes others could see this evidence of your fucking, proof that you make each other feel so good that your cum collectively coats his abs—a messy visual art piece worth framing…

Reaching for the coffee table, you grab Jungkook’s phone as it’s nearest to you, and swiping open the camera, you take several naughty photos of your position: close-ups of your pussy wrapped around his cock, a wider angle that captures the view of his abs and cum running into the dips between them—proof that you did that to him.

Jungkook lies under you, watching in awe as you document one of the best sessions he thinks you’ve had together, or ever, and surprise paints his features when you switch to video, recording without a second thought.

“Look what your baby did to you,” you giggle, fingers drawing dirty lines, “made you make a fucking mess.” You aim the camera so that it can take in the pornographic view and resulting mess. “Anything you’d like to say to defend yourself?” Jungkook just laughs as you aim the camera at his face—he knows this is something just for his eyes only, and yours if you want to watch it with him again, maybe while he fucks you from behind.

“Nothing to defend, princess. I told you to use me, and said if my baby cums like a good girl, I’ll cum again with you. Just following through with it.” Jungkook grabs the phone, turning the camera on you, and you try to shy away, but he doesn’t let you get far. Gripping the front of the shirt, he tugs you to his chest, both of you making sounds at the way your pussy rubs him, and then you’re both in the camera view, his hand in your hair as you rest right below his chin. 

“Best throat and pussy on the planet right here,” Jungkook tells his future self, memorializing today forever. 

“Yeah, gave him that gawk gawk—he has the prettiest cock…it deserved to cum twice.”

Jungkook can’t handle hearing you talk like that without wanting to bury himself deep inside you. Locking his phone, he tosses it onto the carpeted floor and pulls you closer, his lips fervently kissing you as he waits out the refractory period until he’s able to do just that.

stay tuned for “it’s the way that you can ride” coming 8-?-2023!

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[loveydovey-leviathan]

crying hcs

gn! reader | older brothers younger brothers

cw: simeon's and solomon's part is romantic, but all other characters written (including the brothers) can be taken as platonic

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Simeon:

He's always been emotionally guarded. Layers upon layers that had to be peeled away achingly slow, masks that he had learned to build over time for the sake of his place in the Celestial Realm. You could know him for thousands of years and still not see all parts of him. Crying is one of them-- that's not to say he's ashamed of the emotion, but it makes people worry. It makes the others ask questions he isn't prepared to answer.

He's pretty, unbearably so and that is shown in his tears. They shimmer like the stars and when they slide down his face, he looks like heaven itself. He sits there in silent weeps as to not alert anyone and he can't stop the wings that reveal and furl around him in slight quivers.

He'll be in shock if anyone finds him like this, but when he sees it's you, he suddenly feels like he doesn't want to hide. You've always had this ability on him-- you make him want to be selfish. He wants you to worry and fuss over the angel whose heart you've captured, he wants all your attention on him and no one else, he wants your love and affection like he's never yearned before.

Luke [strictly platonic/familial only]:

He doesn't want to admit it but he cries fairly often, he's only a kid after all. Though you'd be wise not to say that unless you want him to throw a fit. He cries when he's frustrated (usually when he can't seem to get a recipe right no matter how hard he tries), he cries when he watches a sad movie, he cries when he's confused-- when everything he's ever known about demons and humans turns out to be false and he finds himself comforted by those very demons he now considers his family.

He does it like every other kid when they're embarrassed- and honestly, he's incredibly like Mammon when he was a child. When Luke feels the tears rushing to his eyes, he furiously tries to blink them away but when they inevitably fall, he tries his best to hide his face so no one can see him.

It's only different if he's with you or Simeon. In those cases, he'll turn to you for a hug. He'd prefer not to talk about the reason he's crying but he knows the best solution to sort out his feelings is to talk about them. So he does, with hiccups and sniffles and a cracking voice.

Solomon:

It's been a long, long time since he's shed tears. He's lived for thousands of years, and that's putting it lightly. He's seen humanity grow before his very eyes-- all while he remains the same. It took some time to come to terms with the fact that he'll probably always feel alone, one way or another.

He's always been a bit off-putting and mysterious. Demons don't feel safe around him, there's always something behind that mischievous smile he loves to put on. But when he cries, he's so... human. He's raw and emotional; smile broken down and all that's left is a man that doesn't have anyone to call his own.

Then you come along and suddenly that hollowness is filled, little by little. Not gone, of course, he doubts he'll ever be able to fill that hole completely. But when you kiss him like he really is your forever, he thinks that maybe this is where he was meant to be. That all those years of pain and loneliness were all worth it if he got to be with you like this.

Diavolo:

Diavolo has never been ashamed of his emotions, however, there are certain things expected from him as the Future King. He's meant to be strong and independent, able to guide his people in the right direction-- all at such a young age. He's accepted it long ago, nothing can be done about it now, but sometimes the loneliness gets to him. Consumes his hearts whole and he feels nothing but an ache for someone to talk to that will understand.

It starts off slow; tears falling down his face before his shoulders start to shake, racking in sobs. His chin crumples up and he makes no move to wipe away his anguish. And he knows there is nothing to be embarrassed of but that doesn't stop the discomfort that crawls against his skin like he shouldn't be crying in the first place.

For as long as he's lived, no one has ever seen the prince cry but Barbatos. The butler is as emotionally helpful as one can expect, which is not saying much, but he has seen Diavolo grow up before his very eyes-- and he's never cared about anyone as much as he cares about the small child that tried to force him to become his servant, though Barbatos knew he could smite him from existence with a snap of his fingers. So he tries his best. He quickly brews Diavolo's tea for situations like this and quietly sits with him as he sheds his tears. It may not seem like enough but to Diavolo, it's everything. Barbatos has been with him for eternity and it's during these moments when he's truly grateful to have someone like the butler by his side.

He'll look up in surprise if you see him, not expecting anyone to visit at this hour. When he sees it's you, he tries to wipe away the evidence of what he's feeling and laugh it off like he always does-- but the look on your face soon tells him that it's hopeless. He sits back down and stares off into the distance, unsure of what to do as always. He leans into you when you hug him, and it makes him feel better-- just this small action is enough to lessen the burden on his shoulders.