#— Whispers Against The Void •• | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

landfilloftrash · 3 months

Note

May I ask for more of your ShinKaru headcanons please? 😀🙏 or even about Manfred, do you have any HC about his wife?

Not gonna lie with you Chief, it took me longer than it probably should’ve to realize that you were using “Karuma” for the second half of the ship name lmaooo (very jovial)

But headcanons for Gregory and Manfred!!! I have those in spades! I won't go into tooooo much detail because we'll be here all day but I can give you some I sent to my partner! But as always I must preface; this is mostly based on vibes, certain lines I cannot quote off the top of my head, and fanfic-- because both characters and their backstories have not been TOUCHED let me see how they GOT HERE

Anyways /lh

In actual canon, my guess is that they met for the first time during the IS-7 incident. More specifically, the first time they’ve actually TALKED.

However, this alone is boring; So I imagine they’ve seen glances of one another in the courtroom. On Gregory’s end, he has seen von Karma in passing, fresh from the courtroom, going into battle, or going over something in the lobby and scowling, given a polite nod to the man or a nice tip of his hat if he was wearing it and mostly classified MvK as “older gentleman with nice taste in clothing.” if he ever sees him again.

MvK on the other hand might have heard of Gregory in passing? Extremely good defense attorney who regularly beats prosecutors; that’s not saying he’s perfect, that would catch the older man’s attention after all, but MvK has probably heard of him and his Justice filled ways and gone “bah. these fools don’t know how to prosecute that’s all, and he’s a naive fool.” If SEEING him without first noticing his badge, might politely nod back or huff a breath in lieu of greeting. If seeing his badge, 100% a nearly uncontrolled sneer. A mere defense attorney. A bug to crush.

And if later down the line Gregory wants to be that cool bug that Manfred studies closer and finds interesting, that’s his own damn business, thank you very much /lh

The only way I see them happening would be if Manfred's wife was either divorced or dead; He brags about his wife's cooking in a contest about baking that man is a wifeguy fo sho

Anyways

They are court rivals!

They match each other blow for blow, which means whatever Manfred’s brand of insane is that trial, Gregory is ready to go with it and turn the tide, and even if he doesn’t win (perfect win streak), the crowd goes away with a sense of “wow. Von Karma was really on the ropes a couple of times.” and Manfred HATES IT. Not the crowd’s whispers— but now people know there’s someone who can actually MATCH his damn insanity and that riles him up to the point of bloodthirsting lust

Gregory ALSO hates it but for a different reason; he's fighting for his gawddamn life with these cases, doing his best as a defense and usually coming so so close but missing just that little something, and von Karma wins.

But he’s stubborn. He will get people their Justice, and he WILL literally die trying so help him gods. That stubbornness extends to von Karma; he WILL win against this man one day, and he’s tenacious and firm, so one day, it WILL happen.

On other hand.. he’s also interested in the amused expressions and sometimes even delighted smile that pops up on extremely brief and rare one second occasions when Gregory pulls a trap of his own or turns von Karma’s trap around; It’s a predator amused that his prey thinks it can win, but playing along and once again trapping the poor creature, but he can’t deny that the expressions make him pause for a moment. Von Karma is very intrigued as he is incredulous about Edgeworth; the fact he only smiles when cornered, so deadly serious and matching fire with fire, a little bit of a nerd! What is this man and why is he so amused by him? He's gonna have an aneurysm

Outside of the courtroom, there’s not much interaction. But… on occasion, they will cross paths while investigating, and almost make a game of it.

They’ll bicker, snip at each other, get close to violence on a couple cases, occasionally even laugh at a stupid/funny comment the other made, quip and quote back and forth like their lives depend on it and should they fail they’ll disintegrate.

Most detectives, especially Badd, the one they most regularly have to deal with, have caught onto this and stay the FUCK out of their way; no matter if von Karma demands they don’t let Gregory onto the scene, they find out later he snuck past them and is up to his thighs in a mystery he’s two thirds of the way figured out

Meanwhile von Karma is already ‘hiding’ witness testimonies and figuring out what he might need to smudge to keep the 'innocents' safe and the 'culprits' put away. While this is a tried and true tactic, and a very welcome one, if he can get away with not doing those things, he prefers it.

Gregory on the other hand, has a notebook for every case he’s been on with MvK as the prosecutor because every time they go against each other he needs to write down every thought that comes to mind in regards to the case. In other cases not against Manfred, he’s decimated the prosecutions arguments before they get off the ground thanks to having to deal with the god of prosecution. But he goes over these notebooks and regularly writes new theories and ideas on what might’ve actually happened, or if he came across the truth and was unable to prove it, circles it, and when they're all actually solved, he closes that notebook permanently.

On the extremely rare occasion that they have NO culprit, but there’s a crime they’ve been assigned to, they have tossed theories at one another, simple to try and one up each other of course. But it’s a different kind of race and game. It’s slower, much more careful.

Manfred once couldn't get to a crime scene up on a hill because it was a terrible pain day and Gregory said nothing about it as he supported Manfred’s almost full weight and let him recover before they actually approached the police and the scene. They never bring it up again and Manfred hates the fact that it even happened, but Gregory soon after finds a small gift basket and a note that says “tell no one. they will never believe you.” and Edgeworth keeps the note.

Gregory is a very calm and chill man, but he has on multiple occasions yelled in true anger at Manfred for certain topics, and Manfred purposefully doesn’t bring those topics up again unless truly relevant, which is almost never.

Manfred absolutely hates Gregory the way you hate a dog. Gregory hates Manfred the way you hate a season.

That's where I'll leave those for now lmao-- but now. Ouuuh. Headcanons about Manfred's wife, huh? She's not so closely my department in headcanons/personal canons like my buddy @.nwdolphin is! But if I were pressed...

May perhaps not be a perfectionist like her husband, but probably strives for it in a way that Manfred saw, appreciated, and partially married her for

I'm not quite sure on ethnicity or name-- depends on if they met in Germany or Japanifornia, and even then it's a mixed bag either way-- but definitely not "noble birth" or whatever if going on with MvK's edwardian outfits /aff Just a normal person from a normal Ace Attorney universe family, so of course her name is a pun/irony.

That being said-- Business woman though. Possibly a CEO of some kind? Possibly just a simple worker. Either way, she commands attention

Softer face for Franziska? She's who it came from!

Like I said earlier in the post; Manfred brags about her cooking! Wifeguy for sure. Her cooking may not be "perfect" but it's made with a genuine effort and a love of the task/people it's made for, so it's perfect to him, goddamnit all, and he will stand by this until he dies

This is all not to say that she's perfectly fine with her husband's bullshit; she calls him out when he gets too Into It

Definitely challenges her husband in more than one way-- whether it be verbally, mentally, or maybe even physically in a sparring match when they were younger and Manfred's leg didn't act out as much!

Manfred fr wouldn't have it any other way; he strikes me as the kind of guy who would decay rapidly without a proper challenge in some way or another (enrichment for the caged tiger in his enclosure please)

I could definitely see her being the one that completely and utterly endorse her youngest daughter wielding a riding crop as little more than two so even she could defend herself

Both of them were definitely so proud of her

Of course her eldest also got a weapon (<- the one who gave them their weapons) who do you think she is

Their granddaughter is named after her, methinks; the eldest keeps in contact enough for Manfred to know her dog's name is Phoenix (whether or not he was simply bluffing on this is irrelevant, I'm taking it and running with it /lh) and even if it isn't, he still knows his granddaughter has a dog who she very much adores.

I think around the time she left his life (death, divorced, missing, etc.) is around the time he truly started to lose the way of how he wants Perfect Justice and instead started to perfectly embody everything wrong with the Law

#whispers from the void #rea rambles #MvK's Wife #Manfred von Karma #Gregory Edgeworth #shingou #blueberrypancakes #thanks for the ask!!#Sorry MvK's wife didn't get as much </3 I haven't thought about her too hard bc I have nothing to work off of #and I'm a usually a stickler for being at the very least canon *compliant*#there are cases where I'm canon defiant but those are rare and usually me going ''this is my city now''#(aka something super fucking stupid happened in canon that goes against characterization and lore and I said "nah <3'')#(or simply an AU and I fully acknowledge canon but simply want my silly goobers having a vaguely peaceful time of it together)#rea rambles in the tags #long post #shut up rea #rea's trash

19 notes · View notes

domesticated-pirate · 7 months

Text

pyramid of needs but it just reads 'being held and enveloped.'

#I keep twitching awake just as I fall asleep as my brain jump scares itself by being half way to sleeping #I think this could be solved if someone held me tight enough against the twitching #moth mumbles #Whispers to the void #I just wanna sleep - I need energy to go to drs about always being exhausted... the irony is not lost on me

2 notes · View notes

bigshot · 1 year

Text

"YOU THINK YOU [[Have it bad?]]??? BUDDY, IT COULD GET [[So Much]] WORS E !!!!!!!"

#[[pain]] IN MY [[guts]] !!#isola mini #isola dash commentary #tfw you stared into the void and the void whispered back #and then dipped you in milk just to throw you against a wall to make a loud thud

5 notes · View notes

little-dirty-fairy · 3 months

Text

I'm desperate to be raped by any man, to be beaten in the night and dragged behind a dumpster to touch me and denigrate me, tell me how hard it made him for wearing those short clothes while they rub their hard cock against my ass and He tears off my clothes, pointedly ignoring my sobs and pleas, slapping my face when I try to call for help.

He sticks his fingers into my pussy that is just starting to get wet, pinches my clit while he pulls down his pants and starts rubbing against my hole, mocking how I ask him not to do it but my pussy twitches with excitement and drools all over his hard cock. .

He pulls my hair and pushes my head hard against the container while he rams my pussy hard, filling and stretching my needy hole, biting my shoulder while he keeps telling me how dirty I am, how slutty and desperate I have to be to moan like this. that way while I'm raped and fucked like a piece of trash, how he's going to burst my holes until he empties his balls full of semen inside me.

He cums inside me as I sob and beg for more, it feels so good that I cum, my legs tremble and my body shakes from the orgasm, he throws me to my knees on the floor before forcing his cock down my throat to clean up the traces. of semen and covers my nose to continue laughing at me.

I can feel the gaze of some curious person who listens to the strange noises in the alley and his murmurs, I try to let go for some air because my head is spinning, my rapist laughs when he notices that we could have an audience and he lifts me up abruptly to tighten my grip. tits, whispering that he is going to take me somewhere else, with his friends so that he can show them the little toy that he found on the way, everyone is going to like to play and use my holes until they are no longer useful.

The idea fascinates me, my pussy dripping with semen contracts into the void and I cling to the stranger, hoping to find more cocks willing to get into my holes.

4K notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 3 months

Text

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, stalking, death of nameless character

gn reader

Thinking about Gojo bumping into you on his way to buy sweets and getting mortified when sensing how you pass through his infinity like it isn’t even there – touching him hands-first like it’s only normal.

And the way you look at him, all spluttering apologies – without a single clue – how you quickly walk away like it was no bigger deal than mildly embarrassing.

And he’s left there, stunned and stuck to the ground he stood on, suddenly feeling stripped naked.

He had to follow you – naturally. Can’t let the biggest threat to his life just walk around unsupervised. Obviously, he has to keep tabs on you now – every single day – your constant whereabouts, where you work and study and loiter and live, and who you communicate with.

It’s all platonic at first – nothing romantic. He’s stalking you, but it’s for safety reasons. There’s no telling who’d potentially find out about your dormant technique and use it against him.

But keeping his six eyes on you every hour he could spare all day and night of every week, eventually, he can't stop himself from starting to see you as something more than just a threat…

He's not blind to it either – he feels the change in the pit of his stomach – in his heart – in his balls even.

He blushes when you take your clothes off to go shower – needs to swallow thickly, watching you walk about your apartment dressed only in undies and a comfy T – smiles when seeing you dance around to music he can’t hear from where he’s perched on the rooftop on the neighboring building – tugs on his cock to the sight of you touching yourself, trying to time his climax to yours.

He’s not watching you for the right reasons anymore… he knows that, but he just can’t seem to stop.

You’re so normal, he’s obsessed with you. So addictive in your mundane routines. Messy notes, chewing your pen when scrambling for an exam – making another easy-fix dinner – picking up the same hoodie from the floor before throwing yourself out the door to go work your minimum wage job – coming home late only to collapse on the sofa with a random episode of some dumb sitcom playing on the TV.

He wants to be your boyfriend – imagines himself going to your school and sitting next to you in the lecture hall, studying together at cafes, watching movies in bed, wearing his varsity jacket, squeezing your ass as you ride him in someone else's bedroom at a party that got way out of hand, cumming on your face and apologizing for it when you give him head on his birthday.

He’s teetering on thirty and has killed more than he can count – both curses and humans – and here he is – fantasizing about having a college sweetheart who doesn’t even know his name…

It would be healthy for him to stop – he knows that, knows it’s becoming dangerous – but he thinks it might be too late now – all he does is try and get closer…

He thinks about enrolling in one of your classes, thinks about moving into your apartment complex, and then he thinks about taking you.

He’s watching you have a nightcap with a boy he thinks he recognizes from your class – you’re both drunk and it’s obvious where things are going...

There’s a devil and an angel sitting on his shoulders, whispering in his ear – but he can't tell which one’s which anymore. One is telling him to leave – to allow you some privacy... but the other tells him to barge in – to crash through the window and rip the guy’s head off by the scruff of his chin.

There’d be blood on his hands, but at least he’d finally be able to touch you…

He glues his hands together – tries thinking clearly – but closing his eyes only results in seeing you gasping and moaning while getting fucked by someone else and it makes him feel like he’s about to lose his shit.

He performs the rituals with his fingers without even noticing – making the hand gestures – his breathing thick before he mouths the words beneath his breath. “Infinite Void…”

You don’t know what’s happening – you’re drunk and unsure if you should be dialing nine-one-one or an ambulance. The guy you’re with is having a seizure, frothing at the mouth and spasming on the floor until suddenly falling limp.

Your breathing is sharp. You think he’s dead. You throw up. The shock makes the tears stop for a brief moment before you start hyperventilating, crying harder.

You’re shaking, and it’s hard holding the phone still – let alone dial any number. Before you can, there’s a knock on the door.

You’re not thinking clearly, naked and wrapped in just a thin sheet as you rush to greet the sound. You don’t recognize the man, but for some reason, you’re spilling your guts to him anyway – rambling about the dead guy in your bedroom.

You’re panicked, and it only takes a curt minute before you’re throwing yourself at him – hugging him tightly – your hands ice-cold on his neck, skin-to-skin without any respect to his infinity – latching onto him for dear life as if you know exactly who he is and how much he loves you.

But of course, you don’t...

You’re just in shock – having just witnessed a boy die. Completely clueless as to how the man you were clinging to so desperately was going to take you back into that bedroom where that boy was lying and do to you what he was going to do before he killed him.

3K notes · View notes

fangswbenefits · 10 months

Text

Intimacy

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Lack of intimacy after childbirth can weigh a relationship down. Thankfully, Miguel always finds new ways to keep the spark alive.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Lactation kink. Fangs. Implied breeding kink. A comprehensive study on intimacy with Miguel O’Hara.

“She’s finally sound asleep.”

Holding back a yawn as you entered the living room, you were promptly met with a very heavy-eyed Miguel O’Hara on the couch, enjoying the comforts of home.

“Thank you,” he said truthfully, straightening up lightly in his seat. “Come here.”

You paced towards him, lazily settling on his lap, both legs framing his as two big and warm hands sprawled across your back, pulling you into an embrace.

Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut once cheek came to rest on his shoulder, taking in his body warmth and enjoying the steady heartbeat that drummed against your chest.

You figured you might just fall asleep and don’t fight against it. Taking care of a baby had been taking a toll on you both as of late, but it was to be expected.

Still, you missed moments like this. No talking, just feeling right at home in a silent embrace.

Miguel planted a few kisses to the back of your neck, but they were void of any sexual bearing. You knew what he meant with those. Absolute gratitude and devotion.

“Next time, I’ll put her to sleep,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm.”

His hands glided along your back, fingertips applying just enough pressure to raise goosebumps across your skin.

“I mean it.”

“You’re also tired,” you drawled out with a yawn, body slumping fully into him. “Work and all that…”

Another tender kiss. “But I have responsibilities here, too.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“You taught me how.”

Point taken.

Silent seconds ticked by and you shifted on his lap into a more comfortable position, ready to enter the valley of dreams.

“I miss you,” he said all of a sudden.

His hands settled on your arms to straighten you, a pair of red eyes encasing yours.

“I miss us.”

Miguel wasn’t a man to deliver empty words as filler, so you knew that he genuinely meant it, which had your heart to skip a beat.

His digital suit began to fragment and reced, exposing the skin underneath. Your placed your hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles flex under your touch.

He was so handsome. Almost unfairly so.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.

You nodded, bringing your lips to meet his in a lazy kiss as you dragged your fingers along his hair, earning a moan of approval.

It was a slow and steady kiss. You were in no hurry and wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity.

One of his hands slid to grope your breast and you felt him groan against you lips, breaking contact.

His half-hooded eyes were now on your chest, and as you followed his line of sight, you realised what had caught his attention.

Your shirt was getting soaked with milk.

Damn.

Two round damp spots spread across the fabric that covered each nipple, and you felt instant embarrassment take over. “Sorry… wanted to pump before putting her to bed, but she—”

“Don’t ever apologise for this,” he silenced you at once.

You tried to slide off the couch to fix yourself, but he kept you in place with both hands gripping your waist, pushing you down on him.

“Stay.”

Oh?

“I’ll help.”

Oh.

“Miguel…”

Masterful fingers worked their way down the buttons of your nightgown to reveal your heaving breasts.

You knew that look on his face.

Hunger.

“So full,” he said more to himself, cupping both of them softly.

A few droplets coated both nipples and he brushed the pad of his thumbs along the sensitive skin, earning a jerk from you.

The tingling between your legs emerged in full force from just the sight of him staring at you like he could devour you whole.

He craned his neck just enough to capture one nipple with his lips before latching hungrily.

The overwhelming sensation was enough to have you clinging to his broad shoulders for support. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped once you felt him sucking gently.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the growing pressure between your legs from his hardening cock.

“Be gentle,” you moaned, caressing his cheek that would rhythmically hollow as he downed your milk.

“Hmmm.”

Then your hand came to his neck and you gently gripped it, feeling his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp.

You stared adoringly at him, slowly grinding into his covered cock. A raw groan reverberated through his throat, and you could tear your eyes away from the sight of the warm liquid pooling in the corner of his mouth.

The latch was just perfect and felt too good.

You brought your hand to caress his face once more, brushing a few strands of his hair away.

“You’re so good…” you moaned.

His cock twitched at your praise, and you could feel the wetness damping his own underwear. Now he was the one leaking for you, his body full on auto-pilot as precum readied him for more.

A couple of droplets began to run down his chin, dripping and drenching his underwear.

“No fangs…”

You’d felt them grazing your skin lightly, but you couldn’t really blame Miguel. His fangs would emerge from either extreme anger or blinding pleasure. A roll from your hips with added pressure was enough to tear his lips from your nipple, head falling back and mouth parting with a raw moan.

He bared both sets of fangs as both hands gripped your waist. Your own mouth dropped open as haziness filled your vision, absolutely revelling in seeing your own milk dripping from his lips and down his muscular neck.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut.

You hurried to collect some of the beads of milk from his skin, but Miguel intercepted you midway, capturing you into a searing kiss. His tongue hurriedly slipped past your lips and you tasted sweetness.

Parting yourself from him, you focused on the grind of your hips and Miguel snapped open his crimson eyes, lust dilating his pupils.

“I’m not… I’m not…” he mumbled incoherently, too lost in his pleasure. “I’m not… lasting…”

You leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m surprised you lasted this long,” you whispered seductively, pressing a quick kiss to the pulse point on his neck. “So much stamina…”

Miguel was a sucker for praise and it was the easiest and fasted way to get him to crumble.

Your clit rubbed against his covered cock in a steady rhythm as more droplets of milk kept dripping from your nipples. Your eyes roamed along his chest that was glistening as beads of white liquid streamed down.

Suddenly, Miguel pulled you into him, your breasts now squeezed in between you two, more liquid pouring out.

He titled your head and immediately latched his lips against your neck, fangs nearly puncturing the flushed skin.

“You ride me so good,” he murmured hungrily against you.

A moan tangled in your throat and your hips surged to encourage his, ruthlessly intensifying the pleasure. Miguel picked up the speed again and you felt each burst of bliss at every thrust and desperate to feel the next.

Your orgasm was upon you faster than you had expected, the sense of urgency in his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Miguel… Miguel…” you moaned, your panties completely drenched.

“Inside… please…”

Desperate fingers clawed at your underwear, sliding it to the side as the tip of his cock nudged at your entrance. He slid inside effortlessly, bottoming up in an instant, and after a moment he gave a harsh cry and shoved himself so deeply and tightly against you that you gasped, clenching hard around him.

Miguel buried his face in the crook of your neck in a failed attempt to muffle his groans.

He kept grinding and rocking against you with stifled grunts, spurting hotly inside.

Only the sounds of your harsh breathing followed, and you sank against him weakly as if drained of all energy.

A familiar waile filled the room, making you wince.

“Shit… were we too loud?” you asked, trying to ease your breathing.

Miguel was still buried deep inside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “I’ll go check on her.”

You could tell he reluctantly slid out, easing you on your back. The sudden emptiness made you clench involuntarily, and you felt some of his warm cum spilling

“Keep it in,” he said, pressing your legs together as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv miguel

8K notes · View notes

chuluoyi · 4 months

Note

i love your comedy and fluff! but my masochistic heart is itching for more angst to fluff for gojo🥲 and i have this brainrot ever since i read "baby", "protect" and "wife": childbirth gone wrong, that's why he is sooo concerned about your wellbeing during your maternity leave~

�� ࿔ 🕰️ 「 09:45 P.M 」

tw: childbirth. there are two very same ask for this now and so that's the cue for me to practice my crack/angst more :3 okay this is basically an extended version of protect's epilogue and oh, it's a happy ending! mini sequel -> 11.10 p.m

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always doing whatever you want! ow!”

“deep breaths, sweets. deep brea—”

“easy for you to say! you don't contribute anything other than shoving that damn stick into me! and now i’m left with the consequences!”

“i kindly remind you that you very much enjoyed my stick that night—”

“i hate you!”

satoru looked at your tear-streaked face and patted you in the head—his notable love language, erupting into laughter. “of course you do.”

lying on the hospital bed, tears welled up in your eyes as you roasted your husband and your contractions kept getting closer together. three hours after you woke up to your labor pains, all you could feel was that you were ready to burst.

gripping his hand tight, you purposefully dig your nails in just to spite him. “i’m serious. i hate you. you’re not putting me up for this again!”

“you say that now, but the moment we are home, those words are going to be null and void,” satoru snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood, ignoring the slight pain you inflicted on him, because what was this compared to what you were going through?

but his facade dropped as soon as breath was knocked out of you and you whimpered. he instantly gathered you in his arms.

“hey, hey... take deep breaths...” when you did, he planted a tender kiss on your damp forehead. “that's it, there you go... the baby's going to be here real soon, okay?”

you panted, limp in his hold as dull pain overwhelmed you. “yeah... your baby.”

“our baby, love. not just mine,” he corrected, smiling. he had one hand on your swollen belly, palming the subtle firmness, and gently rubbing it. “our munchkin.”

“i’m just the container though.”

“heh, no,” he chuckled softly. “you're everything.” his eyes crinkled affectionately, a hint of laughter still in his voice, and your heart actually melted when he whispered: “my everything.”

truthfully, despite your bravado, you were scared shitless. yet, as you nestled your head against your husband's strong chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his reassuring heartbeat, and when you gazed into his eyes, you were sure, because he exuded confidence as if he had no doubts that this was going to go perfectly fine.

and so holding onto him you did. he held your hand through it all, talked you through your pain, and you were so, so grateful to have him by your side.

the next hour was a blur, as excruciating pain blinded your senses. you were wailing when everyone told you to push, and you gave it your all. you kept it up even as you felt like being torn apart.

and before you knew it, cries unlike any other, ones you had only imagined until that moment, echoed through the room.

“he's here!” satoru's hitched voice reached your ears, and you went slack, falling back to the sheets.

you were completely spent and all you could register was that the cherished baby both you and satoru had been waiting for was here. you shivered, your mind tuning in and out—lightheaded, wondering why you felt so drenched down there.

“holy shit! i can't believe it! i can’t—” if you were awake enough, you would realize that it was one of the rarest times when satoru was choked with emotions. he turned to you. “i—”

and suddenly you felt strange. an eerie chill seemed to engulf your entire being. your hand slipped from satoru's grasp as your vision dimmed, the world growing darker.

“are you okay? hey—” his voice sounded distant, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. satoru finally realized that something was wrong, as his six eyes discerned the rapid dwindling of your cursed energy, and the room reeked of the tangy scent of blood.

you barely made out the nurse's shouting next. “blood pressure is dropping!”

"come on!" now he was utterly panicked and tried to get a hold of you, shaking you slightly. “hey, stay awake—look at me, i’m right here, please—”

but to his horror, your head lolled back as you lost your consciousness. soon, he was thrown out of the delivery room. just like that, in one sick twist, his world was crumbling down hard and fast.

a sense of helplessness washed over him as he stood outside the room, barred from being by your side. inside, you were bleeding out, and he was unable to do anything but wait.

didn't he say he would protect you with everything he had? once again, gojo satoru was humbled—not everything was in his grasp. he couldn't save those chosen by fate not to be saved.

suddenly, it felt like suguru all over again, except the stakes were higher. he shuddered—his fist clenched so hard that it drew blood, while his other hand clutched his chest, desperately willing the searing pain away.

would he really lose you this way? the sheer thought made his ears ring. no fucking way. even hell knows he'd go berserk. would fate really let him decimate anything in his path? surely, no... right?

he was unaware that he had been murmuring these silent prayers when the doors slid open, revealing the doctor who had been assisting with your delivery earlier with the news. it was a case of a postpartum hemorrhage, she said, an unfortunate incident.

all things considered, you were going to be okay. that knowledge alone was enough to make him breathe freely once more.

when he was allowed to see you, the moment your eyes blinked open, the first thing he did was burying his head in the crook of your neck.

and there you have it—the first time you had ever seen him really shaken to the point of shedding tears.

“you scared me,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “i—i can't stop thinking— if you really left me—”

“i’m fine now...” you were somewhat wonderstruck by the knowledge that you had this potent hold over him. oblivious to how your soft voice calmed the depths of his soul, you stroked his hair, and he breathed in your scent, grateful to every force imaginable for returning you back to him.

“sleep,” he gently pulled away, his eyes rimmed with red, his fingers caressing your cheek. “you need it. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

“the baby—”

“they just cleaned him up. he's resting too,” satoru reassured with an impossibly tender smile, and his next words made your heart lurch.

“my strong girl, you did it. you're a mother now… thank you. thank you... for making me the father to our child.”

you felt like you might burst into tears. you felt so loved, so secure, even after you went through the most challenging ordeal in your life. and as you drifted to your rest, you could hear the love of your life whisper in your ear ever so lovingly—

“i know i have said it before, but i’ll say it again. with everything it is that i have, i swear to you, nothing will befall you and our baby, for i will spare nothing and give everything for both of you... even my own life.”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #okay i'm just in the mood of very soft gojo #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

3K notes · View notes

murdrdocs · 3 months

Text

UNTITLED 001. luke castellan

description. luke sneaks into your cabin with pure intentions in mind. those quickly turn into something more.

includes. SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, fem! pet names ("sweet girl"), semi-public sex (everyone's asleep), unprotected p n v, desperate luke, very slight somno (r is dozing off but consenting), very slight coercion

wc: 1.2k+

thinkin abt ... Luke sneaking into your cabin, having abandoned the kids back in the Hermes cabin and he just hopes that nothing bad will happen in the hour he’ll be gone.

He shouldn’t have left in the first place, but he needed to feel your body. Even just by laying with you for a little while, letting your breaths synchronize and lull him off to a relaxed state of mind.

It's what he does at first.

Laying with his chest to your back, an arm thrown over your waist, his eyes closed as he matches your breathing. You’re awake for a little while, but neither of you speak.

By the time you’re dozing back off, Luke has different intentions. His hand has pressed flat against your torso, having slid up a little to splay beneath your chest. He whispers your name, and only when you answer in a low hum does he let his hand trail the rest of the way up.

He waits, he hesitates, attempting to gauge your reaction.

You’re tired, he knows it. You had been unable to hold your eyes open during dinner earlier in the night, and now, you nuzzle yourself closer to him as if you’re planning to fully walk into the embrace of sleep.

You bury your head under his chin, settling your ass against his crotch.

“‘M tired,” you explain as if he hadn’t already known that.

“I know. I know, sweet girl.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I'll take care of you. You don’t have to do anything. Okay, angel?”

He's a sweet talker, always has been. Luke could convince you to do anything. He knows his power, but he speaks to you void of any true manipulative intent. If you said no, he would cut his losses and sleep peacefully with you until it was time to return to his cabin.

But you agree with another hum.

“Okay, Luke. Thank you.”

Luke makes quick work of your bottoms. they’re loose and short, just like they always are, and he could get away with slipping the crotch to the side but you reach a hand to the elastic and start to pull it down. Luke contributes by sliding the fabric down the rest of the way until your bare ass is against the flannel fabric of his pants.

He does the same with his own clothing before wrapping his fist around his cock and tugging a few times. It’s dry, and despite the slick already gathered between your legs, Luke knows it won’t be enough.

“Angel?” He prompts, continuing after a moment. “I need you to do something for me.”

It takes you a second to respond and Luke fears you’ve fallen asleep.

Eventually, you ask, “What is it?” (your words come out slurred but Luke clearly interprets them)

He holds his hand in front of your mouth, commanding, “Spit.”

You do as told.

He smears your saliva over his cock and doesn’t bother wiping his hand free of the rest before he props your leg up.

“Jus’ stay right there,” he tells you as he lines himself up with your entrance blindly. It takes a second and a couple of tries but eventually the tip of him slides in.

He goes slow, inch by inch he lets you adjust, and he gently shushes your small sounds. Little mewls and breaths that could easily pass as you having a dream, but he wants to play it as safe as possible.

Fortunately, it’s not long before he’s completely within you, and he doesn’t waste anymore time. It'll be soon enough before someone wakes up from a dream and notices he’s gone. Or even worse, before someone in your cabin hears and is forever scarred.

The possibilities motivate him.

He holds onto your hip as he thrusts up into you, his cock curving into your walls from the position, creating a friction that you’re not quite used to.

Your head turns to face him, and the light is low, but there’s just enough moonlight through the windows for him to see your eyes. For him to take notice of your heavy eyelids, almost completely incapable of holding themselves open once more.

Your eyes close every so often, and during those moments your face relaxes, as if you’ve completely fallen asleep. Then Luke puts more force behind a thrust and your eyes lazily blink open.

“Yeah? Still with me?” There’s a little humor behind his words. He can’t hide his smirk at this point, and if you weren’t on the cusp of sleep and if it weren’t so dark, you would’ve negatively commented on the look on his face. As if it didn’t rile you up.

Instead, you nod and bring your face closer, pressing a single kiss onto Luke's parted lips before you lose the motivation to do even that. You let your head fall back against your pillow, looking straight up as you let Luke pleasure you.

Your ass presses back into him a little more, your hand holds onto his forearm.

Luke slides his hand back up to your chest, rubbing his thumb into your erect nipples over the fabric of your thin tank top before he easily dips his fingers beneath the shirt and does the same once more. Skin against skin this time.

You sigh heavily, your chin tilting a little more pointedly towards the ceiling. Luke kisses your cheek, sloppy and repeatedly, even trialing a few down to your shoulder.

“You close?”

It's barely been long, but Luke knows that like this—sleep hazed and comfortable after a long day—it won’t take much to get you to cum.

And just as he expected, you nod.

“What’d you want me to do? Hm? You can tell me, baby. Tell me what you want and I'll do it for you.”

He’s talking a little too much at this point, the anxiety of someone finding them prickles at the back of his neck. But he doesn’t control his mouth when he’s fucking you. It’s like your cunt puts him under a spell, makes him spill out every single thought in his head before he spills up into you.

You look over at him once more, your eyes pleading to him.

“My clit, Luke. Please.”

He nods and lets his hand find the bud, using two fingers to swirl tight circles around it. He feels you clench around him, tight enough that he has to hold himself back from cumming up into you then and there.

No matter how ethereal the moment is, he knows he can’t do that. So instead, he pushes you over the edge and pulls out just as you finish.

He’s already jerking himself to finish whenever you fumble behind you. He watches you with pinched eyebrows, attempting to decipher your intentions, and then your hand drapes over his and you stare at him, exhaustion so clear in your eyes that he can’t believe you haven’t given in yet.

You do the frenzied motions with Luke, hand over hand over cock, until he cums on your inner thigh, your leg finally closing afterwards and squishing the liquid between them.

It’s less than ideal, and you’ll have to wash your sheets and shorts in the morning, but for now you let Luke pull your shorts back up, do the same for his bottoms, and you’re asleep before he can hear his “goodnight” echo from your lips.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan #celeste writes misc

2K notes · View notes

liliacamethyst · 8 months

Text

Webs of Redemption (Part IV)

Sequel to Web of Shadow and Light

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 6,7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, heavy angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

The piercing cries of your baby boy, Gabriel, are a haunting symphony of fear that reverberates through the labyrinthine corridors of the Spider Society headquarters. Your heart pounds in your chest like a drum, each beat echoing the terror that grips you. After your recent fight with Miguel, you felt weakened but your mind is a whirlwind of fear and worry. You sprint through the maze-like structure, your feet moving as if on autopilot.

Unbeknownst to you, Lyla, the holographic AI assistant you've always found slightly weird, had been assigned to watch over Gabriel. You never imagined she could pose a threat to your child. But as you approach Gabriel's room, a chilling sight stops you dead in your tracks. A laser barrier, courtesy of Lyla, blocks the entrance. Your solar powers, usually so reliable, are fizzling out, leaving you helpless before the impenetrable barrier.

The room beyond the barrier is filled with an invisible, deadly gas - monoxide. You can't see it, but the signs are there. The malfunctioning heating unit, under Lyla's control, suggests sabotage. She must have manipulated the unit to produce the lethal gas. Gabriel's cries grow fainter, more desperate, and you're powerless to reach him.

Your pleas for help echo through the corridors, your voice raw with desperation. You call out for Miguel, your words a plea, a command, a prayer. Miles is there, his powers at the ready, but they're useless against the laser barrier. You watch as Miles strains, his powers flickering against the barrier, but it's no use. The barrier remains, as unyielding as ever.

Suddenly, the cries stop. The silence is deafening, a void that swallows your heart. "Gabriel!" you scream, your voice a raw wound. "Gabriel!" But there's no answer, only the oppressive silence. Your world grinds to a halt, every second stretching into an eternity. You can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but stare at the barrier that separates you from your son.

"Miguel!" you cry, your voice breaking. "Miguel, he's not crying! He's not... he's not..." The words die in your throat, too terrible to voice. You turn to Lyla, desperation etched on your face. "Lyla, please! Open the barrier! Miguel, tell her to open it! He's not crying, Miguel, he's not..."

Miguel's eyes turn blood red, a terrifying sight that sends a shiver down your spine. With a guttural growl, he lunges at the barrier. His claws rip through the laser code, tearing it apart. The barrier flickers, wavers, and finally shatters under his assault. Miguel pulls his suit over his mouth, rushes into the invisible cloud of monoxide, and moments later, emerges with Gabriel in his arms. His heart pounds in his chest as he pulls back his suit, revealing his son's face. "I got you, baby," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "You're okay, I got you. Nothing will ever happen to you. Please, open your eyes."

But Gabriel doesn't react. His little body is still, too still, and a cold dread seizes Miguel. He doesn't hesitate. With a urgency, he rushes over to the medical bay, pushing past the shocked faces of his friends. He gently lays Gabriel on the table, his hands shaking as he starts to perform CPR.

"Come on, Gabriel," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. "Come on, baby." He administers chest compressions, his hands moving in a steady rhythm. He gives two rescue breaths, praying for a sign, any sign, that Gabriel is okay.

The room is silent, everyone holding their breath as they watch Miguel work. The seconds stretch into an eternity, each one a lifetime of fear and hope. And then, finally, a small cough. Gabriel's eyes flutter open, his gaze unfocused but alive. A wave of relief washes over you and you fall to your knees thanking God that your boy is alright.

Tears blur your vision as you rush over to Gabriel. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest as you scoop him into your arms, holding him close. His small body is warm against yours "You're alright, my baby," you whisper into his hair, your voice thick with emotion. "We're going home, you're alright." You rock him gently, his soft breaths against your neck soothing the ache in your heart.

But as you look up, your gaze finds Miguel. The relief of the moment does nothing to quell the anger boiling within you. His eyes meet yours, wide and filled with regret, but it does nothing to soften your glare. "This is YOUR fault!" you scream, your voice echoing through the room. The words hang heavy in the air, a damning sentence. "You did this! You brought this danger into his life!"

Tears stream down your face, hot and unchecked. Your words are choked with emotion, each one a raw wound. "You will NEVER see Gabriel again. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve to know his laughter, his tears, his NOTHING." The words are a bitter poison, spat out with all the venom you can muster. "You deserve to SUFFER, just as you've made me suffer and HIM."

The silence that follows is deafening. Miguel, eyes wide and shell-shocked, opens his mouth, but you cut him off. There's nothing left to say for him and he knows it. The portal back to your universe begins to shimmer into existence, and you hold Gabriel tighter. You're going home.

Just as you are about to step through, Gabriel, who'd been silent and wide-eyed through the whole ordeal, turns in your arms. His chubby little hand stretches out toward Miguel, a soft and innocent "Dada?" escaping his lips.

After the door of the portal closed behind you, Miguel stood still for a moment in complete shock, the echoes of Gabriel's tiny "Dada" ringing in his ears. He stumbled back, finding his way back to his office. It felt cold, sterile. It felt like a lie.

"Miguel..." Lyla's holographic form appeared before him, her synthetic voice filling the room.

"Lyla!" Miguel barked, startling her. "Why?"

"Wha-" Lyla began to stutter, taken aback by Miguel's rage.

Miguel slammed the files that Margo had uncovered onto his desk. The holograms fluttered in front of them, evidence of Lyla's deception. "What did you do?"

"I...It's not what you think, Miguel," Lyla attempted to explain, her holographic form wavering.

"I am giving you one chance to explain yourself, so choose your words wisely," Miguel warns, his eyes piercing into hers.Lyla takes a step back, mumbling under her breath. "I should have killed that bitch when your bastard was the size of a pea." She scoffed, looking up defiantly at Miguel.

Miguel's heart drops. He can hardly believe his own ears. “Never speak of her that way again!" Miguel's fist tightens, and the tension in his jaw is nearly audible.

"Oh? Because she dazzled you with her beauty? Parading in that tight suit you adored? You always looked at her as if she was the sun, the center of your universe. All the while, I was there right beside you and you never even glanced at me. I was your anchor, Miguel. Can't you see? I was always there, supporting you, giving everything. All she did was leave you."

Lyla's holographic image wavers, her eyes a storm of pain and defiance. "No, it was me. I left her. She was the light in my world, but I took her for granted. By the time she left, I had already abandoned her." Miguel's eyes shimmer, the weight of regret making them heavy. He couldn’t fend off the flood of guilt and sorrow from the past. He embraces the anguish, refusing to shy away from it. Because Miguel, in all his flaws, was never one to run from consequences.

"Why?" The word, barely audible, escaping his lips. He doesn't even glance at Lyla as he voiced the lingering question.

“Because... because I love you, Miguel. I've been in love with you for years. I am the woman for you."

He stumbles back, his fingers flying over the holographic keyboard as he pulls up Lyla's software. He had programmed a self-destruction command, a failsafe, though he never thought he'd have to use it.

"This isn't love, Lyla," Miguel says, his voice shaking with anger. "You almost killed an innocent boy. I almost killed my son, Lyla!" His voice echoes through the room, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Lyla's form began to flicker, her synthetic eyes widening in fear. "Miguel...what are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Miguel doesnt respond. There is nothing left to say.He just stares at her before finally pressing the command.

“Miggy, please mi amor, let – “ Lyla let out a digital scream, her form glitching, as she was slowly deleted from the system.

And then, silence.

Miguel drops the icy demeanor he'd been holding onto, falling to his knees. The weight of what he'd done, what he'd almost lost, crashed onto him. He wraps his arms around himself, feeling a sharp, hollow ache in his chest. He became the monster, he swore to protect the universe from.

"What have I done." he whispers to the silent room, his voice breaking. He buries his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs.

"Man, shits been mental." Hobie collapses onto the couch next to Gwen and Miles, who are trying to keep young Mayday distracted in Peter B.’s universe.

"Watch the language, Hobie!" Gwen scolds, her eyebrow arching sharply.

"Alright, my bad. Everything's just been chaotic since Miguel vanished, especially after his... uh, Lyla bird — the hologram lady — tried to... you know, kill his kid," Hobie fumbles.

"Watch it!" Gwen and Miles chorus, causing Mayday to pause her play and glance up curiously.

"Alright, alright, fam. Point taken, jeez. Nearly unalived his son," Hobie corrects himself. "But we need a plan. One of us needs to check on our Sun, ensure she's holding up mentally ya know and then there's the Spider-Verse mess. Those black holes are messing things up, and without our brooding, drama-filled, ‘oedipal’ leader, the rest of us Spiders are stuck."

"What's 'Oedipal'?" Peter B. interjects, walking into the room with a bowl of mashed dinner for Mayday. The child's face brightens at the sight of the meal, and she eagerly crawls to him.

"I believe Hobie's trying to reference Oedipus," Gwen says with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, that Roman dude who had beef with his son and erased him from the living world, right?" Hobie muses.

"Nope. It's Greek mythology. And he killed his father and married his mother," Gwen corrects, slightly exasperated.

"Man, that's all kinds of messed up," Hobie grimaces, making a face that gets a giggle from Mayday.

"You think it's funny when Uncle Hobie gets it wrong?" he teases the little one.

"Enough with the history lessons, guys," Peter B. interjects, concern evident in his voice. "Ever since Miguel's been gone, nothing's been right. Honestly, with everything that's been happening, I'm just overwhelmed. I'm especially worried about Sunny and everything just feel so surreal."

Hobie nods, absorbing the weight of the situation. “I hear you, man. Who knew Miguel was shagging our Sunny behind our backs.”

The chorus of shocked voices fills the room. “LANGUAGE!" they exclaim, eyes wide.

Hobie raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I got carried away. I meant... it is weird how they had a deep love-making connection, and it led to... consequences without us knowing."

Peter B. leans back, a pensive expression clouding his face. "With everything Sunny went through, the joy, the pregnancy and leaving... I should have been there for her more."

As if sensing her father's distress, Mayday halts her meal, reaching out with her small, pudgy hand to comfort him, patting his cheek. Gwen, her voice gentle yet firm, adds, "We all could've done more, Peter. But we were preoccupied, trying to save our universes, and in doing so, we neglected our own Spider-Family."

She takes a deep breath, her demeanor changing to one of determination. "Now, no more moping. Miles and I will hunt down Pav and Margot to sort out the chaos at HQ. Peter, you should visit Sunny and Gabriel and take Mayday along. Hobie, team up with Jess to locate Miguel. Make sure he's alright and bring him back."

Miles cuts in, skepticism evident. "Bring him back? Isn't he the very reason we're in this mess?"

Gwen sighs, trying to choose her words carefully. "Miguel's a … complicated man. He made choices based on what he believed was best. His actions, while perplexing, stem from good intensions. But he's hurting too, Miles. I've seen it. He’s heartbroken."

Miles scoffs, "A heart;for real? That dude? All I've seen is a cold exterior, mad demands, and an excessive pride."

A glance around the room reveals faces of understanding and sympathy towards Gwen’s perspective. Miles' frustration only grows. "Like seriously? All of you? His heart is straight-up frozen and his ego’s bigger than, like, everything! How y’all even thinking about letting him near your best friend."

"Miles," Peter interjects, his tone both assertive and compassionate, "you might not see the full picture here."

Miles, fire in his eyes, retorts, "It's all of you who are blind. I don’t get what charm he has over you, but that man is dangerous. Ain’t no way I stand by and watch him come near her or the baby again, or any of us for that matter. Y’all better wake up and join me.” Without another word, Miles activates his portal, leaving in a flash.

Gwen and Hobie scramble, attempting to follow or stop him. But Peter, with a resigned sigh, motions them to pause. "Give him time. He'll come around. For now, our priority is locating Sunny and Miguel."

Gwen, though worried, gives a nod. "You're right. We've got pressing matters. Sunny is in a vulnerable state, and we need to find Miguel."

Hobie, after a moment of contemplation, says, "Miles not wrong, though. We need to tread carefully around Miguel. Maybe he’s injured ‘imself, like that Icario bloke who got too close to the sun. Miguel might’ve burned his feathers on our Sunny.”

“Icarus. You mean Icarus.” Gwen corrects him once again with an exaggerated eye roll.

Peter agrees, "Yea, Miguel's actions have consequences, but remember, every story has two sides."

"No, sweetheart, it's MA-MA. Say Ma... Not Da, MA-MA.”

“DADA!”

“Alright, if you won't say it, no toy for you. Come on, my love. Say MA-MA.” Blackmailing a one-and-a-half-year-old might not be your proudest parenting moment, but hearing him chant "dada" incessantly has been grating, particularly when said "dada" is a headstrong egomaniac with a hero complex and an overwhelming urge to save every universe but who seems to have missed saving the one thing that mattered most to both of you.

Sure, he's incredibly attractive and, yes, maybe he looked really hot while being on his knees — but those details are neither here nor there. A soft whisper in the back of your mind suggests that, in the end, he did rescue your boy. But that comforting thought is drowned out by the even louder, more cynical voice reminding you he's the reason the danger existed in the first place.

“Dada?” Gabriel pipes up, his big eyes hopeful.

“No, love, I’m still your MA-MA.” With a resigned sigh, you hand the toy over to the gleeful toddler, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. You then rise, intent on tackling some household chores. Switching on the TV, you tune into the news, curious about the latest happenings in Nea Yorkey.

Since hanging up your mantle as Spider Sun you've tried to distance yourself from the perils of heroism. Given all the challenges you've faced and the traumas you've endured, who could point a finger at you for wanting to step away? Your primary concern now is the tiny human being who looks up at you with eyes full of wonder and innocence.

Yet, a piece of your heart still aches for your city. You've always been someone who believes that one shouldn't stand by in the face of injustice. After all : 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' But now, you're not just a hero, you're a mother too. Balancing those two sides is proving to be quite the challenge and extremely frustrating.

Curiously enough, the city's crime rate isn't surging, even in the absence of a superhero. It's almost as if there's still a vigilantly safeguarding Nea Yorkey in Sun-Spiders absence. But that can't be possible, can it? Wouldn't your spider senses have alerted you if that were the case?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further into the depths of concern, the persistent ringing of the doorbell snapped you back to reality. One glance at the door and an all-too-familiar voice later, you already know who's there.

“Would it kill you to answer sooner? I think I've lost count of how many times I rang. And for the love of all things good, it’s freezing out here!” Melissa, still in her over-dramatic fashion, breezes in, shedding flakes of snow from her vibrant winter boots. “And by the way, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Now, where's my favorite little munchkin?”

Melissa, once Gabriel's 19- year old former babysitter, stepped inside, shaking the snow off her boots onto your doorstep. After the harrowing incident involving the Spiders and your son, she was promptly relieved of her babysitting duties. That was an event you've tried to scrub from your memory, a dark stain you wish you could just wash away. But in the aftermath, you found an unexpected friend in Melissa. She turned out to be a wonderful listener and possessed an uncanny ability to keep Gabriel entertained. He had grown quite fond of her in the short time she cared for him.

While you had resolved never to leave your son unattended again, it was comforting to have Melissa's company.

She’d become someone you could confide in, someone who could effortlessly make Gabriel giggle, and most importantly, someone who filled the echoing silence of your home with warmth and chatter. She is your "guy in the chair." Well, more like "girl in the kitchen chair," but the sentiment still stands.

Truth be told, after distancing yourself from the Spider society, a deep-seated loneliness had settled in. While the world continued to move around you, there was a stillness in your heart. The absence of your closest friends, the void left by Miguel - it all felt like a puzzle with a missing piece.

“Nopedidope, I am not Dada, I am ME-LI-SSA.” she says with a playful tone, then turns sharply towards you. The damp red strands of her hair, wet from the snow, swing gracefully with her movement. "What's with him and 'Dada' all the time?"

You shift uncomfortably, hoping to avoid delving into that topic. "Kids and their phases," you mumble, trying to sound nonchalant.

Melissa studies your face, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You're looking a little pale there, Sunny. You know what you might be missing?" She raises an eyebrow teasingly. "A bit of Vitamin D?" Her voice drips with insinuation.

In a mock attempt to shield Gabriel, you place a hand over his ears, which only spurs Melissa into laughter. "Come on, he's too young to understand. When was the last time you had a little fun?A month? Or Two?"

You shake your head, not meeting her gaze. Since Miguel, there hasn't been anyone else. Between the birth of Gabriel and the whirlwind that is motherhood, the idea of dating or loving someone else doesn't even cross your mind. No matter the hurt and heartbreak Miguel has caused, the truth is clear: your heart still belongs to him. It always has.

The mere thought of another person comparing to him feels almost blasphemous.

"Sunny!" Melissa's voice draws you out of your trance. "Don't tell me you've had a dry spell since.. well, since well, Gabriel was conceived. No fucking way. Seriously?"

"Let it go, Mel," you interject gently, because while the weight of loneliness presses on you, and the desire for intimate connection tugs at your heartstrings, a longing for human touch, to be seen as more than just 'mom', there's also an undeniable self-consciousness that wraps itself around you. The aftermath of pregnancy has reshaped your body, and though each stretch mark narrates the beautiful journey of your son's creation, they also evoke self-doubt.

Memories of Miguel's adoration flood back. He had a gift for making you feel cherished during your intimate moments. He would take his time, appreciating every inch of you, always emphasizing how much he desired you. The warmth of his fingers, the gentle press of his lips tracing your curves, and the whispered assurances of how much he wanted you. The way his tongue tenderly caressing the swell of your breast, his hot breath tickling your skin and your - Snap the fuck out of it, Sunny!

But the chill of an empty bed the next morning led to those persistent doubts which still plague you today. We’re you not beautiful enough for him to stay? Were you not interesting enough to make him want to hold you when dawn broke?

For someone who always prided herself on not tethering her self-worth to any man, let alone someone as self-absorbed as Miguel, these feelings of desire and yearning were unsettling. A desire for him to truly see you, to understand and love the depth of who you truly are, continued to consume you.

Love? You catch yourself. Where does that come from? Shaking your head, you mentally scold yourself. He's proven himself less than worthy. It's time to regain control and shut your damn heart out.

"I'm taking this little one out to build a snowman, and I'm setting you up on a date. You don't get to say no," Mel declares.

You raise an eyebrow, replying, "Thanks, but no thanks. If Gabriel's going out, I'm coming with. And I'm not looking for any man right now."

Mel rolls her eyes playfully. "Take a breather, Sunny. We're just going to be right outside. You can watch us through the window. Besides, a little rest might give you the energy for the spontaneous date I might arrange for you tonight."

"You're out of your mind," you retort.

She offers a sincere look. "I promise he's in safe hands, and you can keep an eye on us the entire time. But seriously, you look drained. When's the last time you had a good night's rest?"

You sigh, admitting, "I haven't slept well in weeks." It's the truth. Every time you close your eyes, memories of the HQ come flooding back.

Mel, sensing your hesitation, adds, "I'll protect him as if he were my own. You know that, right?"

Taking a deep breath, you let her go, breaking your cardinal rule of never letting Gabriel out of your sight. You just hope it's a decision you won't regret.

"Enjoying that snow, little guy?" Mel teases as Gabriel eagerly stuffs his mouth with a handful of the white fluff. "Careful, you might get a brain freeze." Gabriel giggles, some snow dribbling from his mouth, while Mel concentrates on assembling a little snowman just outside your apartment.

"I'm not sure toddlers should be eating snow like that," a deep voice comments, causing Mel to fumble and drop the snowball meant for the snowman's head. She looks up, scanning for the source of the voice.

A striking man stands there, tall and imposing, with a dark blue winter coat that hints at the powerful build beneath. Slicked-back dark hair contrasts with the most captivating shade of red eyes Mel has ever witnessed. "And you'd be the expert on toddlers?" she inquires with a playful smile.

"No, but I am a father of two," he replies with a hint of sternness, his gaze shifting to Gabriel.

To Mel's astonishment, Gabriel's eyes light up at the sight of the man. The toddler abandons his snowy treat and dashes towards him. Caught off guard, the stranger momentarily stiffens.

Quickly, Mel scoops up Gabriel. "I apologize. He doesn't usually act this way. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

The man offers a curt nod. "It's fine. Just... keep the snow-eating to a minimum." As he begins to walk away, a heartfelt cry of "DADA!" from Gabriel stops him in his tracks.

"Apologies again. He's taken quite a liking to that word recently," Mel says as she notices the man returning, drawn by Gabriel's continuous 'dada' chants.

"Would you mind if I help with the snowman?" the stranger asks, catching Mel off guard. Why would a stranger want to make a snowman with a woman and a child unless he has other intentions? Maybe he's interested in her? Gathering her confidence and a dash of flirtatious playfulness, she replies, "Quite the knight in shining armor you are, offering to help. And here I thought chivalry was extinct."

"Definitely not a knight." Without another word, he starts forming a small snowball, handing it to an elated Gabriel. The child's joy doesn't waver as the stranger settles beside him.

"Then who might you be, if not our knight in snowy armor?"

Mel inquires, with a teasing undertone, trying to uncover a bit more about the handsome stranger who'd seamlessly inserted himself into their snowy afternoon.

The stranger's dark crimson eyes briefly flit to Gabriel before returning to Mel, an unreadable emotion crossing his features.

"Not important."

Mel nods, storing away the information.Well, the lack of information. “Well okay mysterious. I like that. So let's get this snowman built, shall we?"

The trio gets to work. Mel gathers snow, crafting the middle part, while the man starts on the head. The handsome stranger's hands are deft, moving with a surprising grace that contrasts with his brooding exterior. Gabriel seems inexplicably drawn to him.

At first, the toddler pats at the snow with his little mittened hands, but every so often, his bright eyes lift to watch the stranger. Whenever he moves to fetch more snow or adjust the snowman's form, Gabriel eagerly toddles after him, mimicking his every motion with endearing clumsiness.

There's a curiosity in Gabriel's eyes. He reaches out multiple times, trying to touch the mans face or grasp his hand, seeking a connection. To Mel, it seems as though the baby is yearning for the recognition of the stranger and he feels an inexplicable bond with, though she can't quite put a finger on.

The handsome stranger, for his part, can't seem to help himself. He bends down often to adjust Gabriel's scarf or hat, taking every opportunity to interact with the child and help him in a very protective manner, Mel notices.

He smiles softly when Gabriel's tiny hands try to shape the snow, occasionally guiding them with his own much larger ones, demonstrating how to pack the snow just right. At one point, when the snowman's body is nearly complete, Gabriel gives an excited laugh, dropping down to sit in the snow.

The stranger follows suit, sitting beside him. The two of them start creating a tiny snowman just for Gabriel, the man showing him how to roll the snow and place the pieces together.

As they craft the mini snow figure, Gabriel, with his tiny voice, attempts to communicate with his limited vocabulary, pointing at the snow and then at the stranger, as if asking for validation for his creation. “Dada!Dada!” And every time, he gives a nod or a soft chuckle, providing the affirmation the little one seeks. “Yes, you did that buddy! Great job, mijo.”

When Gabriel eventually throws himself into the snow to make a snow angel, the man can't help but laugh genuinely, a sound that seems foreign to his usual stoic behavior. And in his excitement, Gabriel opens his mouth wide in a beaming smile, revealing two tiny fangs. Instantly, the mans eyes glint, a myriad of emotions reflected in them.

The affection and emotion emanating from him is almost touchable. The silent exchanges, the shared smiles, and the comfortable interaction between them, even in the absence of many words, speaks volumes.

Your eyes flare comically with disbelief. "You let a stranger do what?"

Mel, in a bid to downplay the situation, waves her hand dismissively. "Relax. We just built a snowman."

"With my son! Mel, are you out of your mind? No it’s my fault trusting you with my son again! What was his name?"

"He... didn't say."

Your voice rises, "What did he say at all?"

"He's not dangerous, Sunny. He mentioned he's a father, and he's scouting for a new apartment. Asked if there were any vacant ones nearby." Mel pauses, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality. "And Sunny, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. Impossible for someone that handsome to be dangerous. I mean, the man looked like he was carved by the gods with a face even angels would envy.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Enough with you sappy, dreamy nonsense. A vacant apartment? And you don’t find that at all suspicious? So you let a total stranger play with my son without knowing a single thing about him... just because you wanted to sleep with him?"

Mel gulps. "You might've done the same, given the situation. Besides, nothing happened. Why are you overreacting?"

Your voice sharpens. "Overreacting? The fact that you're still standing here and not on the other side of my door means I'm underreacting."

Mel steps back, hands up, "Whoa, calm down, mama bear. Look, I'm sorry. But... I've got something to make it up to you. I messaged Marc, that guy from the café, and guess what? He's super excited to go on a date with you! He'll be here in about..." Mel theatrically checks her wrist, even though she's not wearing a watch, "...twenty minutes."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow. "And he's okay with me bringing my son on the date? After your stunt, there's no way I'm leaving Gabriel with you. Why not set me up with that mystery Adonis you just met instead?"

Mel smirks, "Firstly, ouch. Secondly, don't let your son cockblock you. The plan is: dinner, a stop at his apartment for some dessert, and then you come back here – hopefully a more relaxed and sunny version of yourself, Sunny. Thirdly, Marc is amazing, and Mr. Greek God is off-limits. He's mine."

"No, I’m not going."

Mel pleads, "Come on! Marc was so eager to meet you. He's on his way, so maybe run a brush through your hair? Oh, and speaking of him…" Mel's face falls as she checks her phone, "He just texted me."

She reads aloud, "‘Hey Mel, I don’t know the kind of guys Sunny's been with, but I'm not risking my neck for a date. Sorry, but that dude in front of her house was scary and very serious about his threats.’ WAIT WHAT? Who’s in front of your apartment?”

You shrug and swing the door open to check on what Marc’s mysterious message could mean, revealing Peter B, his fist paused mid-air, ready for a knock. "Hey Sun. Did your spidey-sense catch me?"

It hadn’t. Why hadn't it? Have your once reliable senses dulled with time? Before you can respond, Mel jumps in with her own theory. "Did you chase off her date?"

Peter's brow furrows with confusion. "You had a date, Sunny? Was it the guy sprinting away with a bouquet, looking like he’s seen a monster?" He gestures over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint the fleeing figure.

Mel narrows her eyes at Peter, suspicion clear in her voice. "That was her date, yes. He seemed spooked. You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

Peter B throws his hands up defensively. "Hey, deeply mistrusting stranger, I've been encouraging Sunny to get out there for years. " You're immediately reminded of the time he'd tried to set you up with Ben Reilly. “Yea, you don’t look scary enough to spook someone. No offense.”

Sighing, you interject, "Maybe he realized dating a single mom with a toddler wasn’t what he wanted. Either way, I just want a quiet evening to relax and catch up on my favorite show. So thank you both for your unexpected, uninvited surprise visit today but I am tired."

Both Peter and Mel exchange shocked glances. "Sun, I came by to check on you because of... you know, what happened," Peter starts hesitantly.

You nod, taking a deep breath to keep

your emotions in check. "I'm aware, Peter. And I appreciate it. But right now, I'm doing okay. Actually, better than okay. So, I really don’t need help. Please, just give me some space. Both of you."

Mel steps forward, concern evident in her voice. "We're only trying to help here, Sunny. Please, don't shut us out."

"Look," you reply, feeling drained, "there's nothing you can do to help me anymore.You did enough today. Just let me be. My top priority right now is Gabriel. And it's his bedtime."

Peter moves closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Just remember, if you ever need anything, please reach out."

You manage a wry smile. "Not sure my phone plan covers inter-dimensional calls, Peter."

After the gentle squeeze, Peter departs, Mel following close behind. As the door softly clicks shut, the weight of loneliness and grief descends upon you after seeing Peter, a part of your past, again. The walls of the apartment seem to close in, amplifying the echoing silence. It all feels suffocating. An emptiness weighs on your heart, and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to escape its grasp. The reminders of all you've lost and nearly lost play on a loop in your mind.

So there you stand, in the quiet of your bedroom, leaning against the windowsill, breathing in the chilled nightair, while the world and your little baby boy are fast asleep. Emotions threaten to consume you, feelings you can no longer lock away, fearing they'll devour you from the inside. And in this moment, you speak out, though there's no one there to hear. No one to hold you close, no one to offer comfort for your broken soul. "Are you happy now? Did you manage to save the universe? Fix up every black hole? Then why did you leave one black whole in my heart? Why didn't you fix that,huh? Why am I not worthy of being saved by you?

You might fool the people around you, they see you as this scary untouchable figure, shielded by layers. But not me. I see through it all. Beneath that facade, you're just as shattered. I tried to piece you together, but where did that lead me? Broken, just like everything else you touch. And I won't let you near him. I won’t let you break him, you hear me? No, of course not.How could you hear me. You're universes away from me. Why? Are you afraid to get cut by the shards of the broken heart that you left?

I hate you Miguel O’ Hara. I hate you for breaking me. You left behind fragments only you can touch, and I hate you for it. For shattering me and then leaving me alone. I hate you.”

You wiped away the tears that escaped your eyes and closed the window, oblivious to the subtle shadowy silhouette that shifted just beyond the windowpane; "I'll mend your fractured rays, mi sol, so you shine whole again.“

A whisper, lost within the night shadows, never reaching your ears.

The gleaming city spread out beneath, its nighttime heartbeat pulsating with a soft electric energy. High atop one of its buildings, Miguel stands, casting a shadow on the walls of the room where his son sleeps peacefully. The warm lights from the streets below give off a soft glow, just enough for him to see Gabriel’s tiny chest rising and falling.

"So, you're staying here now? Just watching over Universe 586?" A familiar voice breaks the silence, and Miguel looks up to see Jessica Drew, her red and white suit glinting under the streetlights. "I never thought I'd witness the great O'Hara, savior of the universes, now guarding just two souls."

Miguel's jaw tightens. "Go away, Jess."

She lands beside him gracefully, her tone challenging. "Are you stalking your own child? Or seeking redemption from Sunny?"

"You don't get it, Jessica."

"On the contrary," she shoots back, her eyes intense, "I understand more than anyone else. I saw how you felt about her all those years ago. And I see it now. You were afraid, weren’t you?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," Miguel replies, defiance lacing his tone. "But I am not good enough for her light."

Jessica exhales, her voice softening. "And who made you the judge of that? Because according to Sunny’s emotional outburst, you're more than deserving." He clenches his fists, the weight of regret pulling at him. "I had my shot at happiness with Gabriella, and I lost it. People like me, Jess, we don't get second chances."

She points to the window, to the serene image of Gabriel. "That's your second chance, Miguel. Right there."

His eyes well up, the gravity of his mistakes reflecting in his eyes. "I almost killed him. How can I even begin to forgive myself for that?"

"But you didn't," she whispers, her voice filled with conviction. "And you wouldnt have hurt him or else you would have done it immediately. I saw you, Mig.”

A third voice joined them, and Peter B. swings over, landing with ease beside the two. "She's right, Miguel. I watched you with him, the tenderness, the love. It was there, even before you knew who he was to you."

Miguel shakes his head, shutting both of them out. His gaze is hard, still fixated on Gabriel. "I can't go back. They're better off without me. Besides, you heard her. She hates me."

Peter stepsforward, his gaze intense. "That's utter bullshit. I know Sunny. She’s strong, fierce, and forgiving. We heard her loud and clear and this woman loves you more than anything. Don't let fear rob you of your family."

Peters words hang in the air, and just as Miguel is about to reply, a shrill,ear-piercing cry cuts through the silence. His spider-sense goes haywire, a ripple of unease running down his spine. Without a second's hesitation, he dashes toward the source of the sound, leaving Jessica and Peter behind.

Inside, Miguel finds Gabriel crying, tears streaking his small face. Instinctively, Miguel scoops him up, the little boy immediately nestling into the familiar crook of his father's neck and calms down. “Hey, my little spider. Daddy ‘s here, don’t cry. What got you so scared?” he coos, spotting Gabriel's favorite toy on the floor. Miguel retrieved Gabriel's favorite toy from the floor, a routine he'd secretly adopted every night when, after falling asleep, the little one inevitably dropped it. With practiced ease, he nestled it back into the baby's grasp.

But before he can fully relax, Miguel's spider-sense jolts him again. Looking up, he sees a familiar, dark-clad figure hovering, hands sparking ominously.

“Drop the child, Miguel.”

a/n: Hey guys, part 4 is finally here! Thanks for your patience and all the love you've shown me. While I initially thought Part 4 would be the conclusion, I've decided to extend Miguel's character and redemption arc, so we'll wrap up with Part 5. I'm already deep into writing it, so you won't have to wait as long. I truly appreciate all your feedback and support. You've all been wonderful. Remember to stay safe, stay hydrated, and always prioritize your mental well-being. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter! 🤍

@ieatmunson @buggiecrawls @strawberriesareprettycool @lux-thebimbo @hk-4ever @invaderzim13 @hannah-goulll @arivh @alwayslegendarymoon @deputy-videogamer @560ria @myconglomerateromance @mateihavenoidea @alwayslegendarymoon @shibble @pagesfalling @kurooyy @regretfulmoth @crazysandwichlady2p04 @ poet-dae @rev-hellfyr @suya-x-syx @daimiyu @lazy-idate @jenniferdixon05207 @lostprince @amplsblog @eternalsams @cubinhodegelo @ prvttystvr @dabi-hawksbrainrot @noxiousfeline @maeplayscello @everyoneluvsvane @vinskyspuff @snazzajazz @yuuuumii @loreleis-world @fuckub @shugrcrush @fandomsinthegalaxies @vladersira @greatstudentbird @avengersinitiative2012 @therealnekomari @xiangping-28 @tanchosanke @tulipsc @tonystank1011 @la--figue @pingpongfingfong @ash-tronomicall @spardaenjoyer @venuswash3re @sofi786 @ranpuwo @sayonaratoyou @fuckthatfeeling @k7a4 @mxjss @rizahawkeye1380 @sinnamongirl @soosheee @cheezit-luv3rr @ransbatonowo @azurerose010 @azestar12334 @muertethekid @jay-joy @staronus0buttercup @mashiromochi @iseizeyourmom @salty-sister @aryjai @surhii @sinning-fae @gel0517 @hinata7346 @princessfuckyou @danyisawesomedontdenyit @typicalife-101 @arabell13 @thekinghazzastyles @sockears @perfectprofessorloverapricot @mkissad @spiritndrain @melovetitties @ihateuguys @honeycriess @pinkbearddragon @yrlocalsimp @savagemickey03 @beiroviski @vanilla-sweets @autismsupermusicalassassin @itsjstz @wifeofnatasharomanoff @alleo-i @jxsoook @saint-chlorine @novausstuff @canary58143 @amal31 @belle643 @ellahlour @akyino @give-me-cats-or-give-me-death @daemonlover @jiminling @forever1kay @chixkencxrry @nessrin @noelsilly @crispmarshmallow @rfvuhhvbin @johfaam @cenkisabibl @rosseyblog @pixiepaintt @pissboyazzy @couchpotato2006 @youcantseem3 @burningfishkidlamp @hellsingalucard18 @mimooyi @riverflowsanywherebuthere @desmanchaprazeres @dorck26 @seasaltjackal @cupcakeandkisses @lost-in-thevoids @starlightaura @stained-tea-cup @yarri0 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @rizzie-lovee127 @shirasakai @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @hiptobesquare13 @iloveplayboicarti @cosmoscoffeee @spaceemeeatt2 @bblouifford @aisyakirmann @xdarkcreaturex @lotustv @fenrysashryver @bri-loves-sunflowers @azrealbanerstark @lostaudfound @ithechipmonk @bby-lupin @mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake @hxlytrin @laennetargaryenskywalker @angi531 @namjooningera @stevenknightmarc @vr00m-vr00m @itsmadamehydra @blep-23 @alastorhazbin @bluevenus19 @bxdbxtxh15 @mrs-ohara09 @strangetrashblog @embersfae @animez96 @thekidscallmebosss @missdragon-1 @navyyoo @harmonics0537 @1206kju @chiharuundead @ahleeyuh @amyg1509 @kiruoris @rvnd0m-th1ngs @vallaufeyson @roses-and-grasses @enalofi @janeety @ash-aragami @peachycreamysmut @saltyllamakidwombat @3zae-zae3 @soupinacan444 @thepassionatereader @lukasdreamland @miracleangel19 @blackqueengold @yosistairl @adv3rs1ty @walkingtravesty97 @girlbloggingisamentalillness @rocketstyx @joined2023lol @whatdudtheysay @thatshouldgoonahat @eileen201804 @nuhteyam @panassbitch @ahoeformyself @abyemayiamay @stevenandmarcslove @froginmygarden @yunamaii @polireader @st0rmyt @delusional505 @enesitamor @groovycass @teamowolverine @blueoorchid @ausara23 @cyberv0dka @danika1994 @rawegggohan @mysteriousmeaning @defiance749 @rinx35 @tamales78 @saucypeanuttt @mitskistannn @shinydragoneagle @rorytrusov @shoyosdoll @sleepycow21 @urdads-gf @okgenic @nim360 @chuckle-nuts @trashybebe @cowabummwerdude @fresa-luna @fjordg @perkip3nguin @randomficlover @skylarlyn823 @prettysbliss @sajova @xxtipherethxx @yeahnotf @pendeja4bts @shoxji @mysingularitybts @moon-alexys00 @szaplsdropthealbum @kibo-ichiro @ace-mothman @shadowdaddysposts @emmytheinsecurepinata @darksunemiku @inafantasyworld10 @kyezofficial @beanstock7 @awesome-animenerd @levermilion @elliellielliesgirl @ thesimpybitch @jasontoddsfavoritechair @athena-portgas @redhoodedtoad @strawnanamilk @bijuu-naginata @chaimantis @ef4iryone @1-800-call-a-milf @idcalol @eddiesb3dstainss @rootintootincowboi@6billionyearsold @xiaolanternn @etherealkistar @mitzukichan18 @quackimilktea @my-goverment-is-a-dictator @bxbyyyjocelyn @teramjna @morilemochi @chompwoman

@vanillacoffeeology @calicoootalks @shine101 @mental-illness-is-my-friend @myhomethesea @janedah0e @st4rrlighttt @imnotyourbcbe @1lyyff @marsbars09 @migueloharaapologist2

4K notes · View notes

chiyoso · 6 months

Text

whoever writes non-nsfw stories

you're amazing, i feel you, i love you, instead of giving fucks to the numbers, give your favorite fictional men and women those fucks instead

fuck em' dry, fuck em' raw, fuck em' good

#— Whispers Against The Void ••

43 notes · View notes

greatooglymooglyyy · 1 month

Text

Trust Me (M. Sturniolo)

chris version?, masterlist

contains: angst, verbal arguing, trust issues, accusations of cheating, make up sex, smut (soft!dom matt), a bit of fluff

a/n: yikes. i don't even know what to say. bone apple teeth.

“Are we really going to argue about this?”

I pause the motions of washing my face to glare at him through my phone. “Yes, Matt. We’re really going to argue about you hanging out with an ex-fling.”

He sighs and readjusts his hold on his phone. “We’re going in circles. I told you I’m not ‘hanging out’ with her. It’s a business collab.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” I mock childishly and Matt cocks his head. I know he’s confused at my sudden surge of pettiness and honestly so am I. I mean, we’ve barely argued at all in the last six months we’ve been together. But, something about this situation is stirring up old insecurities in me and I can’t help lashing out.

“If it’s really just work, why are you just now telling me about it?” I ask as I pick up the phone and walk back to my bedroom, plopping down on the bed.

“My bad, I didn’t know I was on a leash. I didn’t have to tell you about it at all. I called you out of respect when I found out she was coming.” He answers roughly. I’m about to respond when I hear his brothers calling his name.

“I’ll come over when we’re done and we can talk about it face-to-face, okay?” Matt says, softening his tone.

I don’t even reply. I just scoff and end the call, throwing my phone off the bed. I see the screen light up with a message from him but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I head into my living room to spend the day watching the only man who’s never let me down: Stiles Stilinski.

*************************

I must have fallen asleep somewhere around season three because I wake up to Void Stiles and someone banging on my door. Walking over and staring through the peephole, I’m unsurprised to see Matt standing there looking pissed.

I open the door slightly, peeking my head through the hole. “Wrong house.” But he just rolls his eyes, seemingly unimpressed.

“So we hang up in each other’s faces now, right?” He says as he pushes the door open wider and steps inside my apartment.

Sighing, I close the door and lock it, turning to lean against it with my arms crossed. “Oh, you remembered I exist? Only,” I mime checking the time. “three hours later. How was she? Was it good?”

Matt tilts his head and stares at me for a second, his eyes hardening, before he chuckles darkly and shakes his head. “You have me so fucked up today. Accuse me of cheating one more time.”

“If you want to be single, do that. In love or not, you’re just a man. You’re not the only dick-”

Matt cuts in, his face deadly serious again. “Y/N, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Stop playing with me.”

His expression tells me I’m going too far, but the anger burning inside of my chest won’t let me back down.

I walk closer to him, stepping into his space “I’ve been there, done that with all the bullshit, Matt.”

“And I’m not them.” He snaps, ducking his face inches from mine. “I’m not stupid and I haven’t done anything to make you not trust me.”

Despite my best efforts, my eyes start to water and I look away. He’s right. I can’t punish him for someone else’s mistakes. I walk away and let myself fall backward onto my couch. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my arm flung across my eyes.

Matt comes over, pulling off the back pillows so he can crawl on top of me. He moves my arm from my face and adjusts me so I’m looking at him. “I’m not going to cheat on you.”

“I know,” I admit, blinking back my tears at how stupid I feel.

Matt wipes the corners of my eyes and turns my face with his fingertips so he can kiss my jawline. “You’re the only one I want.”

“Even though I have trust issues?” I ask breathlessly as he moves his lips down my neck, the proof of his want hardening against my thigh.

He shrugs, sliding his hands under my shirt and gripping my sides. “I’ll fix them.”

I nudge him so he’ll look at me and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him to me. Tangling my hands in his hair, I press tiny chaste kisses to his lips. He lets me have my way for a few minutes but gets frustrated and takes control, kissing me harder and sweeping his tongue into my mouth.

I grind my hips up against his, needing friction, and he groans. Removing an arm from his neck, I reach down and unbuckle his belt, reaching into his boxers. Matt moans my name against my neck and begins thrusting into my hand slowly. He sits up slightly, pushes my sleeping shorts to the side, and plunges in his middle finger.

I gasp when his cold ring brushes my clit and lean my head on his shoulder.

He adds another finger, using his other hand to hold my legs open when I try to squeeze them closed. He reaches down and stops my hand movements, clearly getting too close, before leaning back down to place kisses on my face.

Matt adds pressure to my clit, laughing when I push against his shoulders. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, pretty girl.”

I moan out his name as an answer and he picks up the pace, curling his fingers to brush my g spot. He keeps up his pace even when I tell him I’m coming, his thumb rubbing circles as I ride out my orgasm. When I come down, he pulls out his fingers and wipes them carelessly on his jeans as he stands up.

“Get on your knees.” He tells me as he kicks off his pants and boxers. I slide off the couch, following his instructions, and face him, assuming he wants head. But when I reach for him, he shakes his head. “Bend over the coffee table.”

I raise my eyebrow slightly but do as he says, bracing my hands on the frame.

Matt kneels behind me and nudges my knees farther apart. He swipes my hair to one side so he can kiss my neck as he lines himself up, grunting quietly as he enters me.

He gives me a second to adjust when he bottoms out, beginning to thrust when I start to squirm. He pulls back as far as he can and slams back into me, pushing me into the table. I gasp, looking back, but he only smirks, leaning down to lightly nip at my shoulder. He continues his rough strokes, his hand digging into my hip.

Fighting for control, I meet his thrusts, pushing my hips back into him, until he braces a hand on my back and pushes me down.

I give up and I press my face into the cool glass, moaning loudly, as he hammers into me. Matt moves his other hand up to the back of my head, lacing his fingers through and tugging gently. “My girl.” He breathes out, the soft tone of his voice contrasting his rough thrusts.

“Please, Matt,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel my body tightening up.

“Come all over me, baby.” He says, pulling me up and pressing my back into his chest while he thrusts up. My body melts against his, and I unravel around him. I shudder when he continues thrusting, his hand coming up to circle my oversensitive clit.

It’s too much but when I try to wiggle away, he pulls out and stands, yanking me up with him. He leads me back to the sofa and bends me over the arm of it before sliding inside of me again.

He grips both of my hips, using them as leverage as he pounds himself into me. I can’t believe how much he’s stretching me, the tip of his dick kissing my cervix as he thrusts.

He brings his hand up and covers my mouth, shushing me, which must mean I’m being too loud. But I can’t think of anything besides the way he feels inside of me.

I can tell when he gets close because his thrusts become sloppier and he starts moaning out my name. He pushes inside of me as deep as he can and comes, dropping his head onto my back.

We both try to catch our breath for a second before he pulls out of me slowly and points me toward the bathroom. “You can go first.”

When we both have cleaned up, he comes back over to where I’m sitting on the couch and squats down. His eyes are kind and sweet as he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. “Shower?”

He lets me get in first and I flinch at the cold ass water he’s set it to, turning up the heat. Matt hisses as he follows me in, leaning past me to turn it down. “Are you trying to boil us alive? That shit is proof that you’re a demon.”

I laugh at his dramatics as he grabs my soap and lathers up the loofah. He scrubs my arms gently before spinning me so he can get my back.

When he's done, he pulls me into his chest and I lean my head back, the feeling of his skin against mine like ecstasy.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He says, his voice grating across my ear before he places a kiss behind it.

I turn and smile at him, adoration flooding my body. “I think I’m starting to.”

1K notes · View notes

domesticated-pirate · 1 year

Text

Dr's be like " GooD News! We can't find anything wrong with you! So keep an eye on your symptoms and come back if anything changes! :D"

.... i guess i'll just keep collapsing/nearly passing out whilst feeling exhausted all the time and being unable to string more than three thoughts together with muscles that ache from sitting and being unable to walk more than 10 mins without getting out of breath then .... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#tag essay / rant #el rambles #personal #health stuff #nothing against Drs in general (the NHS is an absolute blessing <3) but like look at my record #of never going to the drs for any issues for 25+years #would I be here just for the lols? mayhaps im there bc i feel like sumting is not right with me atm #it's only since feb when i went down hard with The covid and I just haven't bounced back yet #(my friends and office people think its long covid but i refuse to accept that - i will be so pissed if it is)#my main concern is that its impacting my work #and I've managed to push through the last few months by having no life outside of work but thats not sustainable #and also even if it were sustainable - im still exhausted and struggling at work even when im doing nothing outside of work #also like ... if nothing chnges this is still not my optimum/my norm so am i meant to wait for it to get worse?#like regularly loosing consciousness in public?#im thinking maybe go back in a few weeks and be like - TeCHNically nothings changed but this still isnt my norm plz find something #whispers to the void #at least i found some gentle herbal sleeping tablet that have been working for me this past week...#small wins #ty for listening <3

4 notes · View notes

kombuuuu · 10 months

Note

Can I request Miles 42 bullies you at school and is always bothering you but he gets mad and tries to fight someone else who is bullying you because he’s the only one who can be mean to you😩😩‼️

Deflecting.

Earth42!Miles x Fem!Reader

“I would get your hands off her if I were you, homeboy.”

This one is kiiiinda violent, not by Miles mostly be warned C:

PART TWO !!

such a cute wife (throw me on an island to live in my delusions)

You were quiet, silent most days. Not stepping out of the very thick circle you’d made for yourself consisting of just you.

And yet, still.

Still, the mere thought of keeping to yourself as a permanent transfer student would make even the most daft of people scoff.

You weren’t anything special, you were void of attention, and happy that way. Acted appropriately and left anger at the door. Had nothing and no one to complain to, so why make problems for yourself?

You’re entire life was just floating along your schooling and waiting patiently for the day you left. Even if you were the rare case of “Got transferred half way through the year because the school saw potential!” girl, you’d just wanted to be left to yourself.

But even the premise of that seemed almost impossible now.

Because ever since you were pushed by some rushing kid straight into Miles Morales, tripping him over with you. Him and his asshole friends had made it their life mission to bother you.

“The cute new girl?”

“Yeah, the one that—,” The first boy glanced at Miles. “,—tripped on.”

“Oooh, shit—, She’s fucked.” The other man whispered back, laughing under his breath. You could feel his taunting stare at the back of your head, and when you checked your peripherals, Miles was sending a sickening glare your way.

You sighed.

—

The ache in your head was probably the only thing keeping you awake.

The day dragging longer than usual had you right about ready to get home and knock yourself out within a minute of being in your bed. Your hand slowly dragged down your face, taking a deep breath and stuffing your jacket somewhere in your locker. The heat of the school mingling with the temperatures the Summer was providing and then adding on the rain from the prior day? You cursed Brooklyn and its humidity. Reaching to close your locker, you finally fit the jacket in the already cramped space. A little piece of the fabric poked out, and you pushed it in while simultaneously trying to keep everything else in too. Pulling a face before you finally managed to get it shut, and slip your finger out before it can get trapped. You turned the key into the dumb metal and scowled at it before pocketing the key and turning to leave.

Being so engrossed in your feud with the locker, you had failed to realise the very man who’d given you this headache, leering over your frame. Turning straight into his chest and reacting in a pained groan, gripping your forehead in displeasure and glaring up at whomever was standing so close to you.

Which happened to be Miles Morales. Staring down at you with cold, dulled eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” The simmering anger in your voice was made known, and also promptly ignored. He tilted his head down at you, braids shifting with the movement, his expression barely changing. If only he had a conscience. Then maybe you could read his expression, the emotions on his face —, but in this universe? The thought seemed laughable.

He stepped forward, sending you staggering closer against your locker.

“Back off—,” You’re voice shook a little as you swore. Dropping his eyelids into a glare, he spoke, “You keep talkin’ to me like that, and we gon’ have a problem.”

“You keep creeping up on me like a fuckin’—,”

“Like a what?” Miles’s bored, taunting voice grated against your eardrums.

You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving, and clenched your jaw. Shaking out the annoyance in your bones, you kept your calm.

“Don’t get shy on me now.”

A surge of anger rose through you, before you willed it away.

He was antagonising you.

You tried not to instigate him. If you didn’t encourage it, maybe he’d go away.

“Never mind. Whatever, Why—,”

“Miles, my man.” A different man clapped him on the shoulder, giving you the chance to step back and away from him. The other man was tall and lanky, spindly in the way where he looked out of place for a high school. His blue eyes caught sight of you, smirk contorting the bridge of his nose and baring his teeth. “Fuck you doin’ with this thing?”

“What d’you want.” Miles diverted attention from you quick, his companion not getting the hint.

“Fuck, nevermind man,” The man sent a sleezy smile at you, looking you up and down slowly, a short whistle under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up, James.”

You glared are the taller man, something like bile clawing at your throat. The way he was talking about you was sickening, nothing more than a bothersome rodent.

Miles glanced at you, raising a brow, he wanted to see how long it would take before you’d finally fight back. Through the months you’d been at this school, not once had you actually lost your nerve.

On worse days, like this one, you gave him attitude. Snapping at him the moment he showed up, knowing if you didn’t, he’d take the chance too first. He looked forward to those days, where you would engage him. It sent some sick thrill through him. Watching the way your eyes unfocused, urging yourself not to roll them. How your composure surely chipped but never cracked, fingernails digging prints of a fine line when dug into your palms.

He watched your breathing stutter and counted your breaths with you, he’d basically memorised the pattern.

10 beats in, hold for 8, and 12 beats out.

Though, this was only on a good (bad?) day. Other days you just stood and took it. Letting him say whatever he wanted to you, talk shit right to your face. Spread rumours without repercussions and mess with you just because he had the urge.

And just like always. Through the heat of Summer and the full ache in your head, you managed to do nothing.

Just stand and stare as James acted like you were less to a piece of meat.

Miles scowled, dropping his shoulder and causing the man to fall from leaning on him. “Omf— Hey! What the fuck, dude.”

“Let’s go.”

James scoffed, rolling his eyes but following behind nonetheless.

“Miles, what was that shit about?”

“None of your fucking business, homeboy.”

Their voices faded as they walked away, the white noise of chattering people swallowing the scraping of James’s voice.

You wondered what Miles had really wanted this time, as he hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything with James showing up. You hate to thank him, but god. You might’ve lost your mind.

—

Four months in and you were losing your mind. Miles hadn’t stopped, neither had his determination. He seemed so eager to piss you off and do nothing but stare coldly as you composed yourself every time.

Just as that thought brimmed in your head, something kicked out in front of you, sending you flat on your stomach. Hands pressed into the hardwood of the gym below. You groaned, knees being knocked straight to the ground, landing with your arms outstretched in front of you. At least it wasn’t your face.

A voice was heard behind you and you froze, unsure what to do at that moment.

“Get up, [Name].”

James.

“Yeah, I’m—“ You shuffled back onto your feet. Standing up cautiously and checking your uniform was in place.

“Shut the fuck up.” He interrupted you, and you turned around slowly to face him. “Ever since I made it clear how little you were fucking worth, that dipshit Miles has been a fuckin’ dog to me.” He spat at you, the anger rising in his voice, he gripped the polo shirt you wore, dragging your limp upper half closer to his.

You shivered at his breath on your face, wanting to gag.

“Sorry.”

“You’re a fucking freak—.” His group of even more childish people were standing behind him like some sort of team work movement.

“Please let go.”

“I’ll fucking gut you. I needed that motherfucker—,” “Woah.” “,—He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass for ditching me.” Seems like attachment issues. “And you too, cunt. I’ll end your fucking life.”

He pulled you ever closer, using his height to intimidate you, six foot four of an angry man standing over you, no thanks.

A whistle was heard from the main room of the Gym, prompting James to let go of you.

“You’re lucky you’re a looker, call it pretty privilege.”

“..”

“Next time I’ll fucking kill you.”

You dropped from where you had been dragged onto your toes, stumbling a little as James’s group snickered when they walked past, bumping your shoulder and wolf whistling.

—

The lesson ended, and you rushed to get out of there. Making your way to the locker room, and being the first in there, also the first to leave. Changing from your sports uniform and rushing out of the Gym.

You kept looking over your shoulder, Knowing that James wasn’t lying. He probably would kill you, or, objectively worse.

You tripped over your feet before righting yourself again. People around sent curious looks to you which you ignored easily.

Getting to the front of the school, glass double doors shut with a “locked” sign on it, you continued to shoulder forward. Ignoring the shout of the office lady, you pushed against the metal bar and opened the door. You’d already known about the doors being unlocked constantly, having seen many times teachers trying to check no one was watching before slyly slipping out. So when the door opened for you with no trouble, you breathed out quick, and booked it.

You praised yourself for the amount of cardio you could do, the school was three stories for goodness sake, the amount of stairs you needed to climb was insane.

You slid to the side, dodging the occasional pedestrian and making it to the main gate, another shout was heard from the front of the school and you slipped out the gate just as it opened for another teacher, thanking them as you passed.

“Thank you!” You shouted as you ran.

“You’re welcome?— Oh..”

“Kid, Get back here!”

The office lady watched you hit the end of the street and turn, no longer in her sight. She threw her hands in the air and sighed.

“I’m going to get fired.”

“No, Marlene. I’ll cover you.”

“Thanks, John.”

“Why were they running, anyway?”

“Dunno, maybe AP exam.”

—

Miles watched as James was escorted back inside the building. His scowl etched onto his hideous face. Two of their shared buddies trailed behind him, rolling their eyes at the teachers questioning them.

One of the girls in his group was pressing against him, Miles getting more agitated by the minute. His disinterest in her only seemed to fuel her infatuation more, and it was getting annoying.

The guys at his table were all laughing at some—, probably sexist joke one of them made, the ladies giggling along with them, feeding their toxic lovers the attention they so desperately want. It’s not like Miles thought he was above these people. He just was. They were scum, but the only friends he could keep. Hurt people hurt people, and all that sappy shit. So when you hurt so much, only a small portion of people can stand you, and you them.

But when your name was mentioned, he perked up significantly — his ears fine tuning to the conversation. Completely forgetting about the raven-haired girl pressing against him, and focusing on the words spat by James and his two huevos.

“She’s hot though—,”

“Fuckin’ cares ‘f she is? Woulda beat her ass.”

“[Name]?”

“Yeah, [Name]. Miles got all fuckin’ sissy I thought she was hot, and now we don’t talk.”

“So?”

“So—!? Now I lost my chance with Imogen, she’s all fuckin’ over him cause I’m gone.”

Right, Imogen was her name.

“You want to beat her up over you losing a bitch? Just bag her instead?”

James rolled his eyes, debating it. Miles tensed, his relaxed posture straightened quickly, causing him to almost knock Imogen in the face. Too which she squealed at. An awful noise, really.

He quickly stood, chair falling behind him with a loud clang, and strode out of the hall, Glaring at James the entire time. His two friends laughed James’s sudden hesitance to respond, knowing how piss scared he was of Miles.

James stayed silent until the doors to the cafeteria closed, and the whispers started up. Then told his buddies off in a harsh tone.

No one had ever seen Miles do anything too bad. But with the amount of times he’s shown up to school with a busted nose and smug aura, you could tell—, whatever fight he’d had.

He’d won.

—

To say that Miles wanted to have the day away from school, probably wasn’t true. With the stuff he’d heard James and his dogs speil, he’d rather you not be alone.

He was—, worried.

But when his Uncle Aaron called him in for something urgent right at 4 AM, telling his Ma it was a work emergency, he couldn’t refuse his Uncle. He fit his mask onto him, faceplates slotting closed. Claws being turned and clicked into place, he flexed his hands, dragging the window of his room open in the early morning, and left with his Momma sound asleep.

—

The peace and quiet of the day had been rather disturbing. Not having Miles or any of his groupies bother you—. Was off, not unwelcome, but odd.

So when the bell rang for your fourth class, everyone heading from their lunch break back to their assigned classes, it was only by nature you’d be pulled into deserted corner of the school by some unknown figure. A hand placed over your mouth and the other gripping your wrist, pulling you back.

You struggled against the mystery person, a sickeningly familiar voice croaking in your ear.

“Be—,” You kicked your head back, knocking his jaw. “,—Fuckin’ bitch, be quiet.”

Your foot slipped under you, bringing him more leverage to haul you further from the light of the main hall.

You screamed through his hand, tears building behind your eyes when you heard a door unlock.

“Get in.”

“Fuckin—, Open it wider, dipshit.”

“Fuck off.”

James ripped his hand off your mouth before you could realise, pushing the middle of your back so you were forced into a dark, cold classroom.

You fell to your knees, a sense of déjà vu kicking in as you braced yourself with your hands.

Your chest heaved, James slamming the door shut.

“Keith, close those blinds.”

“Fuck are you gon’ do?”

“Beat the fuck outta her.”

—

Miles stuffed his claws somewhere in his locker, uncaring for secrecy. No one was there now, everyone having gone to class. He’d arrived fairly late, not an unusual occurrence considering his occupation, though. So the office ladies didn’t mind.

He slammed his locker shut, an image of you doing the same with a pout on your lips coming to mind. He had class with you now, sat right next to you, actually.

So he made his way towards the back block of the school, where you’d be.

—

A hit straight to your cheek sent you flying to the floor again, Mathew letting go of where he was holding you up.

“Dude your grip is shit.”

“Nod off.”

Keith muttered something about “Fucking brit..” from his seat on the prior teachers desk.

You groaned internally, eyes lolling to the closed curtains, the broken glass of the window letting in a sweet breeze. The only reprise from this entire ordeal was a broken window.

There’s some poetry in that, or something.

Blood dripped from your nose and lip. A cut on your cheek now present too. James, the creep, had rings on his thin fingers that, when used, hurt to no end.

You were picked back up by under your arms, closing your eyes in pain and hissing. You opened your eyes in time to see the small glint of metal in James’ pocket, and the wince on Keith’s face before another fist connected to your temple.

—

You weren’t there.

You had shown up to school, evident by your paper on the lecturers desk, but hadn’t shown up for the period.

And by the empty seats of James, Keith and Mathew. He could only guess what was happening right now.

Miles slammed the door to the class shut, ignoring the panicked yells of his teacher and started towards the darker parts of the school. Where no one used, a chemistry accident setting the safety board director deep in debt and a block of the school unusable.

He flung open his locker when close enough, snatching the prototype version of his claws from the locker. Small, sharp finger coverings that were something close to the claws he had for his Prowler suit. The knuckles were brassed and the wrist latch clasped easily to his skin. He slammed it shut again, not bothering with the lock, and honed in his hearing.

The walls were thin enough.

—

“Don’t you think this is a little too far?”

“Shut the fuck up, Keith.”

“Fuck you gonna do if she snitches—?”

He gripped James’s wrist, holding the knife away from both you and himself.

“—You gon’ ruin your life for this shit, man?”

“She’s been playing my fuckin’ nerves—, yeah.”

Keith gave him a bewildered look while Mathew stared on in disinterest, still holding you at a position you couldn’t right yourself.

The blood had stained your shirt now, bruising littering your face and body.

James had taken to ditching the knife.

“Fuckin—, Whatever man.”

It clattered to the ground with a large clang, the tiled floors of the science room made the echo ring in your head like the growing migraine.

“Drop ‘er.”

Keith glanced down at you, then backed off. An odd look on his face while he kicked the knife away from James, unintentionally pushing it closer to you.

He walked back to his seat.

Mathew let go, watching as you dropped to the ground and started coughing.

Choking on your own blood before you spat it out.

“You know how long i’ve been wantin’ to fucking do this?”

He raised his leg, tilting your chin up with his boot, how demeaning.

He swung back and kicked your ribs, sending you into another coughing fit while you fought the urge to throw up, tears streaming the blood dripping down your chin.

“Your family ruined my fucking life.” Another kick to your stomach, you gagged.

“Taking my dad, then my fucking girl too?”

What is this guy on about.

“Your fucking daddy couldn’t just mind his own business. Had to get involved, then you.”

A harder kick to your stomach, you clenched your abs and covered your head.

A sudden shock ran over you, a familiarity that always sat with James clicking in your mind.

James Ohnn, son of Jonathon Ohnn, a man who had a hand in the collapse of a still-in-construction Kaleidoscope that was said to bring revolutionary science to the new world. It’s framing shattered while the workers on it all went with it.

His father was the lead scientist of that Kaleidoscope, and by turn in of your dad, was promptly arrested.

“I didn’t do shit—,”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

He kicked your ribs again, and you swore you could feel them crack.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking ruined me.”

He swiped the knife again, Keith shouting something you couldn’t hear amongst the ringing in your ears.

You shut your eyes, crowding your head with your arms.

A slam broke through the muffles of your mind. Panicked voices and accusations being thrown around before a thick accent curled around your head.

Miles Morales.

“I’d get your hands off her if I were you, Homeboy.”

Miles approached slowly, checking your face while keeping his eyes on the three men.

“Fuck off, Miles.”

“No.” His head cocked to the side, eyes slanting while he assessed the situation.

“What, you gonna fight us?”

James’s voice was shaking. He’d never seen Miles looks o absolutely pissed before.

“Don’t think I can, asshole?”

“It’s three against one.”

“Realmente piensas—, sabes que, no importa.”

Miles lunged at him, Keith and Mathew shouting in tandem while you struggled to keep your eyes open. The pain working its way past your adrenaline and into your bones.

He grabbed James by the wrist, twisting it back and listening to the sickening crunch of his Lunate bone in curious satisfaction. James screamed, trying to tear his hand away from Miles. Even with his right hand pulling too, he wouldn’t budge. The metal clicked together every time James shifted, and Miles gave an extra squeeze before letting go. The force James was pulling sending him flying back, he stumbled and tripped over your feet, falling back and smashing his head on the tiles.

The other two boys scrambled for the door, running out the hallway and whining like dogs.

James groaned, rolling onto his stomach, Miles deadpanned down at him. You watched through blurry vision as Miles picked his up, sat him against the teachers desk, almost slumped against it. Grabbed his hair by his crown, slowly bringing his head forward, bending him at the waist. Before slamming his head back against the wood with a dull thud. He repeated this sick, prolonged process until James had fallen unconscious. Standing over him, then going to grab the knife laid a bit from you. You looked at him from your position, not unthankful, but still—, he was evidently a contributor.

“Don’t move.”

“Wha— Why? I have to get home.”

Miles scoffed, crouching down next to you, knife in hand. His limp wrists resting on his bent knees.

“You gonna’ go home with a cracked rib and busted face? Nah, Chiquita. Vente conmigo, yo te arreglo.”

He stuffed the pocket knife down the side of his Nikes and took off his claws, putting them in the pocket of his jacket.

He hooked his arm under your knees and upper back, cradling you bridal style before standing to his full height.

You panicked a little— “Wha—, No. Miles, put me down.”

“No.”

“Hh— Whatdyu’ mean ‘No’!?”

You hooked your hands over his shoulders and gripped him as he made his way through the back exit of the school.

“I said, I’m taking you home.”

—

You groaned in pain, shirt lifted to just under your bra line as Miles assessed the damage.

He had been joking when he said cracked rib, but there was an underlying sense of real possibility. According to him though, nothing had been enough to seriously injure you. Except the disgusting looking bruises littering yourself.

You tried to focus away from the pain. Or Miles in general, he was very distracting, the lingering attraction you had when you met thought to be squished, was bubbling up again.

He had an ice pack pressed to your skin, and if you were a tad less conscious, maybe you would’ve made a joke of how cold his hands already were. The sweltering heat doing nothing to soothe the bruising.

“Keep this here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Watch the attitude.”

You huffed a breath, laugh being painful.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You shifted yourself to alleviate some pain, and took his place holding the pack on your stomach.

He grabbed an anti-septic from the small kit he had for first aid. When he’d pulled it out earlier, you’d questioned it.

“You get injured women on your room often, Miles?”

“Nah, Just you. Usually they can take care of ‘emselves.”

You’d giggled at that, not entirely offended but more so amused he’d decided not to take offence at your jab.

His hands reaching for your face brought you back to the present. Flinching back in surprise, you watched him watch for a moment. “Chill, ma. Just gon’ put this on your cuts. Needa’ touch your face for that.”

You cringed, the twisting of your lip having you suck in a harsh breath. “Yeah—, yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Mhmm.”

The callouses in his hands were made known the moment he touched you, spreading the cream along the cut on your brow, cheekbone and lip.

His hands were a nice contrast compared to the heat of your cheeks, and the gentleness at which he was using.

When Miles touched your face, leaning his body closer to yours, he wanted to savour the feeling. The softness of your flesh against his own, how he could trace the contour of your cheek without it being awkward. His thumb rubbed a small amount of cream onto your lip and he couldn’t look away. The sight of your blood stained skin under his blemished hands had him stuck in the moment. Unable to answer her last question.

“Miles?”

The way her lips formed around his name sent a burning heat throughout his body.

“Yeah—.”

“Is my lip okay? ‘M I gonna need stitches?”

You poured up at him and he shook his head. “No.”

“Mmh— Okay.”

You looked to the side, addressing his room and Miles watched the way your eyelashes brushed along your cheeks when you blinked.

“Okay, just this left. Gonna be a little cold.”

“Thank you.”

“No stress, Chiquita.”

He grabbed some petroleum jelly, spreading it along the cuts on your face and moisturising the wound.

He then placed adhesive bandages along the places necessary, and placed everything back into his first aid.

“Miles.”

“Yeah, Mami?”

You paused at the name, he’d been using those a lot lately.

“How’d you know to find me?”

He looked down, shuffling up next to you against the headboard. You gazed out the window, ignoring the tension that was eating at the both of you. He did too.

“Gut feeling.”

—

DAMN BABY THIS ONE GOT WILD

tags :3 @gemma42 , @denuparxoume

my gorgeous translator @kissmxcheek !!

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #Miles 42 #earth42!miles x reader #earth 42 #earth42!miles

5K notes · View notes

lnfours · 3 months

Text

sensual | l.n

summary: sharing a wall with your roommate has become.. intriguing, to say the least.

warnings: roommate!best friend!lando x fem!reader, smut (18+ pls), unprotected sex (pls wrap it before u tap it), this is basically just filth with fluff and a bit of angst if you squint.

masterlist | inbox | listen to the playlist

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

you were sitting up in bed, typing away at the research paper that was due over the weekend. an earbud in one ear as you tried to focus. tried to lock into this paper that had taken most of your brain power for the day.

you managed to tune just about everything out, humming softly to the song as you typed. but something pulled you from your trance as your fingers froze over the keys of your laptop. you had thought you were hearing things, tugging and earbud to make sure it was just your imagination before it happened again.

a soft moan coming from the other side of the wall. you were frozen in your spot, now hearing his heavy breathing as everything else fell silent. you felt your heart jump into your throat and a course of heat spread through your body. you should’ve just shoved your earbuds back in and pretended you never heard anything, went back on with your paper.

another moan, this time followed by a soft, “fuck,”

you were completely frozen now, cheeks heating at the fact that you were fully listening in on your best friend get off. you leaned your head back against your headboard, closing the lid of your laptop and the sound of his pants pulling you into the void.

but what really did it was the next, higher pitched moan that he was clearly trying to hold back, followed by a quick, “fuck, y/n, baby,”

that’s when you lost it. your eyes bugging out of your head as you listened. he had just said your name, thinking about you as he got himself off. your best friend, the person who knew you better than anyone else.

it made you wonder what he was picturing you doing to him, biting down on your lip as you finally caved. you tugged down the waistband of your pajama shorts, your hand finding the warm wetness of your pussy. you let out a silent moan, mouth agape as your fingers found your clit.

your back arched slightly when you heard him moan again, “shit, so close,”

you were quickly chasing your own release, cheeks still hot as you heard the wetness of yourself against your fingers. your mind raced, thinking about what he could be doing to you. thinking about how he’d have his way with you, your mouth full of him or his pretty face as you rode him. mind bouncing between different scenarios.

“y/n, fuck, i’m gonna cum, baby,”

you whispered a soft string of curses, your body shaking as you gave yourself an orgasm. his moan dragged out this time, letting you know he had finally reached his. you caught your breath, thinking about what you both had just done. what it could mean for your friendship.

a few weeks later…

lando was scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, laughing softly to the video that had come across his timeline. he heard your door close and a giggle come from you before your headboard softly banged against the wall. he furrowed his eyebrows, listening to you talk until he was caught off guard by the male voice coming from your room.

he tried not to listen, blocking it out until he heard your giggle that had turned into a soft moan. he licked his lips, turning his tv on. there was no way he was about to listen to his best friend get laid. even if she was the one he thought about when he touched himself, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

until you moaned a little louder, almost sounding like it was straight from a porno. that’s what made his sweatpants grow tighter, listening to the suppressed sound of skin slapping together. the way your moans had become slightly muffled, his mind thinking about your face in the pillows, ass up in the air.

he was done for now, hand palming at his painfully hard dick. until the next moan you let out sounded fake, followed by the guy’s soft grunt.

and that was that. there was no more noise other than the soft voices making some slight small talk. he furrowed his eyebrows, there was no way. it hadn’t even been five minutes.

he heard your bedroom door open and soft shuffling outside his door as you ushered the guy out of your apartment. he got up, opening his bedroom door and leaning against the door frame as he watched you close the apartment door, clad in your fluffy robe.

you turned around, jumping at the sight as you held the robe closer to you, “fucks sake!”

your whisper yelling made him chuckle softly, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

he looked good, the dim from his room lighting casting shadows all around him. the way his arms were crossed as he leaned against the wooden door frame, how his biceps looked in that stupid black tshirt. the grey sweatpants. all of it.

you shook your head, taking in a soft breath, “‘s alright, didn’t know you were awake.”

“yeah, can’t sleep,” he said, “who was the guy?”

you swallowed thickly, “it was jake, the guy i told you about the other day.”

you had met jake at the bar last weekend. you had agreed to go home with him, needing a distraction from the man you shared a wall with. it was a decent fuck, actually a less than decent fuck. he was bad in bed, multiple times leaving after he had finished just to leave you get yourself off with your hands once he was gone.

you brushed a piece of hair behind your hair as your best friend stared back at you, “the bloke can’t even last ten minutes?”

his boldness shocked you, pushing it aside as you licked your lips, staying silent. he leaned off the doorway, making a step closer to you, “did he at least… get you off?”

you looked down at the floor and he sighed softly. your silence was his answer. an answer he didn’t really want to hear, but he was expecting nonetheless.

“what a joke,” he scoffed, “seriously.”

you shrugged, “it’s alright-“

“no,” he said, “because if you were mine, i’d happily spend hours between your thighs or with my fingers inside you. the fact that he can’t even spend a second doing that is absolutely ridiculous.”

you met his eyes, realizing how close the two of you had gotten in the short amount of time as you craned your neck to meet his gaze, “‘if you were mine’?”

he looked back down at you, “yeah,” he breathed softly, minty breath fanning your face, “if you were mine.”

you swallowed thickly, “what does it take? to be yours?”

he reached out to you, grabbing your chin, “you always have been,” his eyes flickering between yours and your lips, the lips he’s been craving to kiss, “it’s always been you.”

a wave of silence rushed over the two of you before you softly spoke, “lan?”

he hummed back, “hmm?”

“kiss me,” you said, “please.”

he couldn’t say no, how could he when you’re looking at him like that? pupils dilated and eyes locked on his. so he did, cupping your face into his hand as his lips met yours. he didn’t waste any time, slipping his tongue past your lips as your arms wrapped around his neck. his pressed against your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

he backed up towards his room, bringing you with him. he pushed the door closed, your back up against the wooden door as he pinned you there, lips hot on your neck as he kissed at your pulse point, dragging his teeth over the skin of your collarbone.

“fuck,” you whimpered softly, all the pent up emotions spilling over as his curls tickled your face, “i guess i should tell you i heard you,”

you weren’t sure why you had chosen now of all times to come clean, but his head picked up, “heard me?”

you nodded, “a few weeks ago, i heard you getting off through the wall,” you watched as his face dared to turn red, “and i got off to it,”

he let out a soft moan, “you got off to me getting off?”

you nodded, “yeah,”

“fuck,” he mumbled against the skin of your exposed chest, “that’s so fucking hot.”

you let out a moan when his hand pushed the fabric of the robe aside, his hands finding your nipples and twisting them between the pads of his fingers. your back arched into his chest.

“lando,” you moaned and he let out a soft curse, “fuck, please,”

“don’t worry, ‘ve got you,” he said against your neck, reaching for the tie around your waist, “i got you, pretty girl.”

you let him slip the robe off you, his hands picking you up as the fell to your ass, holding you against his torso as he carried you to the bed. he plopped you against the pillows gently, climbing up between your legs as your hands moved to strip him of the black shirt. he happily let you tug it over his head, his head dipping back to your chest. his mouth took in one nipple as his hand tweaked the other, letting you moan like that before he switched it around.

your hands in his curls felt like a dream, nails softly scratching as his scalp, “fuck, been thinking about this for so long.”

you watched him hook your thighs over his shoulders, settling down at your dripping pussy. you let out a moan when he took a finger down your slit, groaning at how wet you were already for him. you found your hands in his hair again, his lips peppering kisses among the inside of your thighs.

“you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, “it’s a wonder no one wants to see you squirm under them.”

you breathed heavily, “is that what you were thinking about? when you moaned my name the other day?”

he looked back up at you, “baby, i think about you and i doing all sorts of things.”

you licked your lips, “like?”

“like,” he said, pressing a kiss to your core. you let out a moan, covering your mouth as he spread your legs wider to give him total access to where you needed him most, “like how i’m gonna eat you out til you’re begging me to stop.”

you rolled your eyes back at his words, gasping as his tongue met your clit. you threw your head back in total bliss as he sucked and lapped at you, his hand moving up your body to play with your nipples. you were a withering mess before him, letting out another moan when he pushed a finger into you.

“yeah?” he asked, adding another in, “like that?”

you nodded, “mhm,”

“you tell me when it’s too much, okay?” he said, “wanna take care of you.”

you nodded, “okay,”

he brought his mouth back down to your pussy. he continued to eat you out as your thighs shook around his head, his fingers fucking up into you so good you were about to see stars. the feeling of your stomach tightening was the feeling you had been missing, your hands pulling on his soft strands.

“‘m close,” you moaned, “just like that - fuck,”

he smirked against you, but did as you asked. he brought you to your release, your whole body shaking under him. you moaned his name and it was like music to his ears as he sat up, pressing a kiss to your lips.

you reached for his waistband as he moaned against your neck, “need you,”

he kicked his sweatpants off, erection finally springing free and slapping his lower stomach. he moaned as your hand grabbed at him gently, taking him into your hand and giving him a few strokes.

you pushed him over, putting him on his back. he let you, watching you with blown pupils as you took him back into your hand and brought your face inches away from his dick.

“is this okay?”

“more than okay,” he breathed.

you didn’t waste anymore time after that, taking him into your mouth and pumping the part that didn’t fit with your hand. he moaned behind his hand, grabbing at your hair and turning it into a makeshift ponytail.

he watched you go down on him, mouth warm and wet and everything he imagined your pussy was going to feel like. he felt his tip hit the back of your throat and he threw his head back, your hands coming up to play with his balls. he was a goner, eyes rolled back and moans falling from his lips.

you had him right where you wanted him.

“fuck,” he panted, placing a hand on your cheek, “feels so good, but i wanna - shit - i wanna be inside you.”

you nodded, releasing him softly. he grabbed at your hips, pulling you back on top of him and you moaned as you grinded against him. his hands on your hips felt so good, softly lifting you and positioning his dick with your entrance.

“shit,” he mumbled, “did you want a condom?”

you shook your head, “i’m on the pill and i trust you.”

he nodded back at you before letting you sink onto him. you moaned together, his eyebrows furrowing and your head tilting back slightly as he stretched you out.

he gave you a second, leaning up to kiss you. you kissed him back, hands in the curls at the nape of his neck before you slowly rocked against his hips. he moaned into your mouth, hands on you again as you did it again.

you had found your pace, alternating between rocking against him and softly bouncing against him. he held you close, mouth on your tits as his hands squeezed and slapped at your ass gently.

you kissed his neck, leaving a small mark where it could be covered with a shirt. your teeth pulling at his earlobe as you moaned softly into his ear, “fuck, you’re so big,”

he moaned back at you, “and you feel fucking incredible,” his nose met yours, “don’t know if i can ever get enough now.”

you smiled softly, “i’m okay with that.”

“yeah?” he smiled, you leaning back, hands on his thighs as you rocked your hips. he snuck his hand between your bodies, rubbing at your clit, your gasp filling the air, “like my dick that much huh?”

you moaned, “not just your dick,”

he knew what you were getting at, his free hand cupping your cheek. he knew you had felt the same way as him, you didn’t have to say it out loud. it was obvious. it had been for years.

the room was quiet other than the sound of skin slapping together and your soft moans and pants. he broke the silence, “i’m so close,”

you nodded your head, “me too,”

“shit,” he grabbed at your hips and picked up the pace, fucking up into you, “come for me. come all over this dick, baby,”

you whined softly, your own fingers taking over where his had left, “lan,”

“yeah, honey,” he smiled proudly, “who’s making you feel this good?”

“you,” you whimpered, you were so so close, “only you.”

“that’s right, babygirl,” he felt you clenching around him, sending his head tilting back, “oh fuck,”

your body shook with your second orgasm, a moan leaving your lips when he pulled out of you, fisting his dick as he came onto his stomach. you laid down next to him, catching your breath as he tried to even his own breathing.

“i’ll be right back,” he softly pressed a kiss to your temple and you nodded, smiling at him sleepily as he ventured off into his connected bathroom. you closed your eyes, feeling content as you heard the water running at the sink. he came back into his bedroom, tugging on his sweatpants before kneeling back onto the bed and tapping at your thighs, “c’mere,”

you complied, smiling as he wiped the warm cloth against you, cleaning you up, “want a shirt?”

you nodded and he tossed the wash cloth and shirt he had on earlier into his dirty clothes hamper. he rummaged through his closet, finding your favorite shirt of his. he came back to the mattress, “your favorite.”

you smiled and hummed as he helped you into it, smiling when your head reappeared through the hole, “thanks,”

he nodded, this time getting comfortable next to you. he picked up the tv remote, wrapping an arm around you as he pulled you into his chest. your ear listening in on his heart and how fast it was still beating.

he scrolled through netflix, looking for something stupid to watch because he knew you would be asleep shortly. he could tell with the way your eyes were glossed over and the soft yawn you tried to hide into your arm. he turned on a show you both had seen a million times. your head tilted back to look back at him.

he met your eyes and smiled, brushing a piece of hair from your face, “breakfast in the morning?”

you nodded, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “only if i can get the blueberry waffles,”

he laughed, smiling against your lips, “you can get whatever you want, love.”

you smiled and kissed him again, drowning in everything lando. he held you close to him, pressing kisses to your cheek when the kiss got broken because of how big your smile was.

“whatever i want, hmm?”

he met your eyes, a knowing smile on his face as he tilted your chin to look at him, “say the word and it’s yours.”

you licked your lips, “i think you owe me a date first.”

“the go on a date with me,” he said, “tomorrow, that little Italian place you like.”

you hummed, smiling up at him again, “it’s a date.”

2K notes · View notes