#shut down Chase Bank | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitscutie · 3 months

Text

public eye (drew starkey x fem!reader)

pairing: drew starkey x reader

warnings: none, all cute shiz and some sexy moments. ;) shotgunning smoke, make out.

summary: all the times the public thought the two of you were dating, and the one time they knew.

a/n: sorry I've been on such a long break, life got a bit busy recently but i'm hoping to get back into writing - especially for drew! also sorry if the use of arse scares anyone - im british x

requests open!

word count: 1.8k

You and Drew has always been close. The cast were aware, the fans were aware. Ever since season one of Outer Banks came out, and both of your statuses grew, people began to dig. Your relationship friendship dated all the way back to your teenage years, doing multiple high school theatre shows together, and going on to attend the same University.

This also meant that there were a lot of photos and videos of the two of you being stupid kids, and while you had never explicitly said you were dating, even denying it to this day, there were early on suspicions.

A main one being the hundreds of photos together at family events, arms wrapped around each other, in some his jacket thrown over your shoulders as weddings went on into the night.

Though, the more incriminating stuff came much more recently, as now people knew who you were and so what was and wasn't posted was no longer in your control.

→ Sleeping Angels

The first video to cause rumours was posted onto Chase's story. It was short, only fifteen seconds or so, meaning no one was really concerned about what it might cause.

It was clearly from the set of OBX as the trailer surrounding you was littered with both cast and crew members, all shuffling around while you and drew were the complete contrast.

The pair of you were lying (quite comfortably) on a leather l-shaped sofa in the corner of the room. You could hear what you assumed to be Chase and Rudy giggling as they approached, laughing at how tightly Drew held you to him.

You were wrapped closely into his chest, arms lying softly on his wait while on of his held the back of your head, the other tucked under your t-shirt (which was actually your characters wardrobe and not your own) sitting on your back.

They couldn't see your face, but judging by Drew's closed eyes they could assume you were asleep.

Ever so gently the boys began to take gummy worms from their pockets. Each placing one in both of Drew's ears, and finally one was wedged into his mouth which woke him up.

At first, he was confused, looking down at you but upon seeing you still asleep his eyes looked up, squinting to avoid the lights. Unable to hide their humour at the situation anymore Chase and Rudy burst into laughter, Drew joining but much quieter due to his sleepy state as he threw the gummy worms back at the pair.

The removal of his hand on your back is what brought you back to the non-sleeping world. Hearing a mumbled 'fuck off' from Drew as he smiled at the two boys.

"What's happening?" You mumbled, utterly confused, hair sticking up in every direction and Drew quickly attempted to smooth it down maintaining your dignity as you were filmed.

"Nothing. Ignore these idiots ba-." The camera quickly shut off, leaving the viewers intrigued. What had Drew been about to say? Was it an accident? It was all unclear.

Of course with obsessed fans it didn't take long for rumours to fly, the main one being that the words coming out of his mouth were to be 'baby'. They were right. Thought you wouldn't tell them that, not yet at least.

→ Poguelandia

The next clip to blow up and cause hysteria was the two of you at the Outer Banks season three event 'Poguelandia'. You had arrived together and explored together, alongside Austin, your arm linked through the two boys'.

You talked to fans, played minigames and drank. Drank a lot. Which you blamed for your obliviousness when acting a bit too close to Drew for someone who wasn't dating him. To be fair, he also could've avoided it and yet neither of you did.

It happened as the cast and close friends stood atop the exclusive stage, all singing and dancing together as bands played - especially when 'Left hand free' came on.

You mostly behaved for the first twenty minutes, dancing with Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia but soon you wanted to spend some time with Drew, tending to get clingy when tipsy.

You began your walk over as the video begun, Madelyn attempting to grab your arm but it was a futile attempt as now, with him in your sights, you were determined.

The girls looked concerned before Austin- who was stood with Drew- leaned over and whispered something to them all, waving off their concern as they continued to dance and the camera now panned to you and the much taller boy.

You were talking, pressed against the edge of the silver fence which kept you from falling as the crowd kept growing around you.

As you got bumped by an unknown person Drew wrapped his arm around your waist, offering you a sip of his drink which you gladly took but soon regretted as you realised it was beer.

He chuckled with a smirk already knowing you didn't like it. Then he said something, but as the camera was miles away the viewers began to assume, and being reasonable, it did look awfully similar to 'sorry, sweetheart' before you received a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Soon after you joking turned away in annoyance, facing the stage and beginning to sway, your front pressed against the fence, back against Drew's stomach. He wrapped his hand around your waist, beginning to sway with you and you could tell the Filmer subtly freaked out as the camera jolted for a few seconds before it zoomed in further.

It showed Austin wide eyed as he searched the crowd for anyone watching. Not seeing anyone he shrugged taking a sip from his plastic cup before once again dancing with a smile.

Unfortunately, he had been wrong and once again your and Drew's relationship was being speculated.

→ Italy

The final clip of you and Drew which went viral without real confirmation of anything more than a close friendship was while he was filming in Italy.

After being spotted out and about alone for months, suddenly you appeared by his side wearing a pretty sundress, once again arm linked through his.

He wore a cap and you both wear sunglasses, looking like typical celebrities avoiding being spotted, though now it was known he had been here for months it was near impossible.

You were stood calmly in a corner attempting to navigate the way to a restaurant you were going to try when a small group of girls approached you both.

They explained they were big fans of Outer Banks and both of your characters in said show, asking very politely for a photograph in their adorable Italian accents.

They began screen recording in order to be able to capture the whole interaction, as fans often did and it was decided you would take the photo as you were in the middle, the girls on one side, drew on the other.

The viewers watched as you took the phone, hand briefly passing the camera showing a thick silver band ring, in it was a delicately carved cursive 'D'.

As soon as the girls watched the video back and saw it they posted the video to Tik Tok, it garnering as much attention as you imagined it would when showing something so potentially interesting.

What they didn't expect, however, was the further observations. The most major being the necklace that had been in almost every photo of Drews for the past few years, the charm which hung from the end now looked weirdly similar to your necklace, and the viewers couldn't help but wonder if it was a matching one of his own, with your initial carved instead of his.

It was.

→ The Conformation.

The final and real proof to all the fans who suspected you and Drew may be together was a video of the two of you at a cast night out in South Carolina at a club.

The two of you were stood outside of said club, clearly trying to cool down as both of you faces were red, Drew's shirt unbuttoned at the top, his chest rosy must like his cheeks.

He was leant against the wall of the club, legs wide as you stood between them, hands placed on his hips ever so slightly holding his shirt between your fingers.

Your dress which was black and almost fully covered in diamonds shimmered under the moonlight and you could see mouth something along the lines of 'you look beautiful' followed by you leaning forward, burying your smiling face into his neck.

His hand, which wasn't holding a lit cigarette came up to hold the back of your head, throwing his own back against the bricks in a laugh, clearly finding your bashfulness cute.

Soon enough the conversation turned from casual to flirty, body language changing in a way so blatant, you could tell from the other side of the screen.

Your hands moved from his waist to around his neck, hands linked behind his head as his spare hand held your waist, thumb soothing over the fabric covered skin every once in a while.

Realising his cigarette had been left unattended for a while, Drew brought it up to his lips, inhaling deeply. A wordless conversation ensued between the two of you as he brought you closer, mouths inches from each other as he exhaled into your mouth.

The smirk was evident on his lips as you blew the smoke from yours in turn, quickly pulling you in once again - this time your mouths connecting in a speedy rhythm.

You struggled to keep up due to his height, stretching onto your tip toes even in the platform boots you had put on for this very reason. He realised this, laughing, eyes still closed and lips still next to yours as he decided to lean down further to meet you instead.

As the kiss grew more intense, tongues now making appearance and putting on a show for the whole street, his hands reached down (having long since threw the cigarette to the ground) holding your arse between his palms.

Sadly, your moment was put to an end as a relieved looking JD ran out of the clubs door, seeing the two of you.

He patted you on the back, a blush covering his cheeks - from the heat or the intrusion it was unclear - and said something to the two of you before leaving and giving you a moment to gather yourselves.

You both stood up fixing your postures and straightening each others clothes before you shared one final peck, soon after heading inside, hands entangled.

Soon after, the video was posted onto every single social media platform with the caption, Y/N L/N AND DREW STARKEY MAKE IT OFFICAL DURING STEAMY KISS OUTSIDE SOUTH CAROLINA CLUB.

If only they knew you had been dating for years and this was most definitely not the first 'steamy kiss' the two of you had shared.

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #obx fanfiction #drew starkey x actress!reader #rafe cameron #drew starkey x fem!reader #drew starkey x reader smut #drew starkey x famous!reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey fic #outer banks fic #outer banks

2K notes · View notes

lingerina · 3 months

Text

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝐎𝓥𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐈𝓥𝐄 － yu jimin

␥ karina x fem!reader ␥ 916 words 🚨 choking, overstimulation, dacryphilia (?), praise ␥ you swore to never work for a rideshare app again but getting laid off leaves you no choice. you end up becoming someone’s getaway driver, not realizing you’re in for way more than you bargained for. ␥ A/N inspired by this ask (and reblogs) from ages ago. also could be read as (sort of?) optional bias since i realized i never used her name here. 🧍🏻‍♀️ and it took me this long to write for my bias? 🤪

You never wanted to go back to Uber but after being laid off and having bills due soon, you had no choice.

You earned the most when you drove around the airport, downtown, and during late-night hours, which were windows to some of the craziest things you’ve previously experienced as a driver. You’ve gotten caught up in a drug deal and bank heist before, which was why you swore to never be an app driver again.

Every ride, you hoped that your passengers were normal law-abiding citizens who just needed a ride to the local market or something. Fortunately, they had been.

Until you made the mistake of driving off with a passenger who wasn’t the one that ordered a ride from you.

She had run up to your car—impressively in heels—and slammed the door shut as if she was being chased, shouting for you to drive off before you even get a chance to confirm you’re picking up the right person. Meeting her sharp eyes in your rear view mirror startled you into stepping on the gas because in the pit of your guts, you were uncertain if you were in harm’s way again and ignoring her might actually put your life on the line.

The ride had been silent, your actual passenger that you’d driven past being one of the only two thoughts crossing your mind after you had hovered a shaky hand over your phone, that’s mounted to the air vent, to cancel her request. You didn’t know where you were driving, and you couldn’t accept any other ride that were popping up on your app. There were more red areas on the map, indicating major activity and hefty tips that you could’ve gotten your hands on had you refused to let the mysterious raven-haired beauty in your car.

She stared out the window for what felt like hours. She didn’t utter a word and you were too afraid to ask questions. You aimlessly drove around, hoping she would finally say something and end this torture.

When she abruptly met eyes with you in the mirror again, you startled.

You tried to break the ice and asked for her destination, but what followed was more silence, a sudden request to park in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, and two-word commands for you to step out and join her in the backseat where she ended up breaking you.

You’re seated on her lap with your back pressed against her chest and her hand wrapped around your throat. Taunting words brush over your ear, inducing a chill that ripples down your spine as three of her fingers are inside you. Your body horribly betrays you as your car echoes with the filthy squelches of your dripping pussy and your cries as she violates you.

Nonetheless, you part your legs wider and buck against her hand, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from your morals dissipating and your desire to be broken burning. With your leggings torn at your crotch and bearing the stains of your pleasure, you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning mess for a gorgeous stranger who may or may not be dangerous.

She squeezes tighter, her well-manicured nails threatening to pierce the soft skin of your throat, a low praise of ‘good girl’ uttered at the shell of your ear threatening the sliver of sanity you have left. You catch your breath when she releases her grip, which moves down your clavicle to tear at the collar of your tee. She yanks at your bra, unveiling your breast for the palm of her hand, and kneads in tandem with the pace of her fingers.

Your head lolls back over her shoulder, hoarse moans polluting your once-silent vehicle as she fucks you harder. Tension grips at your limbs, your toes curling as her curled digits reach that spot. The spot where you need her most.

“Come on, baby,” she purrs with a sly smirk. “Give it to me.”

You oblige on cue. Your eyes roll back as you soil her hand in the midst of ecstasy, your wetness dirtying her dress, her lap, and the back of the seat. She didn’t spare you mercy before, and she’s definitely not sparing you now.

She toys with you until you think you’ve given her your all. As soon as you fall limp, she slips back inside you and you swiftly ascend to your brink once more, the sensitivity blurring your vision with white dots as you gush all over her.

She refuses to let you recuperate. Just when you think it’s over, she makes her unwelcome return, her expert fingers repeatedly bringing you to ecstasy like a broken film. She gets off on your tears and pleas because they’re a stark contrast to you squirting all over her and dirtying your car in the process. When she’s had her fill, she shifts you off her lap like a discarded toy and finally steps out without a word, leaving you alone in the abandoned parking lot.

With the silence and post coital clarity setting in, you sit up straight and stare at the mess you made. You don’t need a mirror to know that you do not look presentable to customers at all.

Fortunately, it’s still early in the morning. You can rush home, clean yourself and your car up, and still have a whole day to earn money.

You just hope that you don’t have another potentially dangerous or salacious run-in again.

#girl group smut #girl group imagines #aespa smut #aespa imagines #karina smut #karina imagines

456 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 7 months

Text

Eddie Munson x fem!reader requested by anon 18+

TW: somnophilia Working overtime hadn’t done you any favours except adding a few bucks to your bank account. The lousy wage didn’t really make up for the aches in your bones, the sluggish tiredness that took over you as soon as you came home. Your body hit the couch, your bed, the nearest soft surface and gave in each night, barely making it through dinner before your eyes were drooping.

You’d barely seen your boyfriend, a sad ramification of trying to save some extra cash and Eddie had taken to either already being in your apartment when you got home, dinner made for you and warming in the oven, or slipping in after his own shifts, tucking a blanket over you when he found you asleep on the couch.

But tonight, he found you in bed just past eight o’clock, your work uniform shedded by the foot of your bed, using one of his T-shirts as pyjamas. You’d clearly had an unsettled rest, the sheets shucked off and tangled by your feet, a pillow tossed to the floor and his shirt riding up your ribs. It put you on display for him, one leg hitched high on the mattress, lying on your tummy, a stripe of blue cotton between your thighs for him to see.

He sucked in a breath, cock hardening under his jeans and he felt like a teenaged pervert despite seeing so much more of you over the course of your six year relationship. It was something you’d both spoken about before, both done before, each of you waking up to the other running their hands over soft skin, playing and rubbing and tugging until the other saw the bedroom come into focus just as they fell apart.

Eddie wanted that. Eddie knew you needed that. It had been a little while since he’d heard you gasping his name.

You didn’t stir as he shucked his jeans and shirt, his belt hitting the floor with a clatter, the mattress dipping as he slid into bed beside you. But at the feeling of his body along yours, your mumbled something, still in a deep sleep, cheek squished to your pillow, one leg stretching out in search of the heat of his skin. Eddie propped himself beside you on an elbow, one large hand skimming down your back, following the line of your spine, along the curve of your ass. He did that again and again, the shape of you a navy shadow in the dim light that came from the gap in the curtains.

You shifted as he got lower, fingertips skating over bare skin, following the elastic edge of your underwear. He swore under his breath, lips parting in a silent gasp as he watched you arch under his touch, chasing him even in your sleep. The blue cotton briefs were anything but seductive, old and comfy with a tiny bow on the front that Eddie couldn’t see yet and they were almost too small, stretched high over your hips and clinging tight to your folds.

Eddie was rock hard, trying his best not to shift his hips into the curve of your ass to gain some much needed friction but you were doing that for him, subtle, soft movements against the sheets that had his mind reeling. He’d missed you, too much. And apparently, you’d missed him as well.

The boy watched your hands ball into fists against the pillow as he let his hand fall between your legs, cupping your pussy and marvelling at the warmth there, the dampness that already clung to the cotton. You let out a breath, ragged and smothered by the pillow but still, your eyes stayed shut. Eddie cooed, a soft sound, watching your pretty face for signs of life as he ran a finger up and down your folds, pushing firm enough that the fabric stuck to you, soaked through and making it too easy for him to find your clit, finger rubbing slow, sure circles.

You woke up as he was peeling your underwear aside, cool air on your heated skin, ass arched out, searching for more as you came to. You gasped, the noise tailing off into a moan as Eddie sunk one thick finger into you and you could feel his smile as he leant into to nose at your cheek, dotting kisses over your flushed skin. You felt heavy and light all at once, the feeling dizzying, the idea that he’d been paying so much attention to you even when you didn’t know made your heart thunder, the hook in your stomach pulling taught at how hot it all was.

“Eddie,” you sounded hoarse, thick with sleep and want, trying to move from your position to clamber over him but Eddie tutted and pushed on the small of your back, keeping you where he had you. “Ah, ah, pretty girl,” he murmured, crawling over you instead. His finger was still curled into you, a slow nudge against that spot, over and over. He shifted until he was between your spread legs, out of sight behind you, your head still in the pillow. You felt him closer, hovering over you and a line of spit hit your ass, slipping wet and warm down into your folds just before he kissed you, just below your clit. “Lemme take care of you, huh?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie baby blurb #tw: somnophilia

1K notes · View notes

fairlyang · 3 months

Text

Kitty 🕷️

you've never had anyone able to stop you when doing crime, until now

w/c: 5K

pairing: miguel o’hara x blackcat!reader

tags: 18+ smut. stealing, getting caught, chasing, flirting, teasing, falling into temptation, exhibitionism, making out, fingering, blowjob, back blown out, choking, unprotected sex

notes: my fav fics bc I LOVE black cat she’s so hot and I learned sm about her when I was researching

The notorious Black Cat of New York, loved all things shiny, kicking ass, and using her seducing skills to the best of her ability when needed. Never exactly aiming to have turned out like her father but what can one do when kidnapped by Kingpin and are forcibly meant to be his Guinea pig?

Getting created to be a super soldier that was also a seductress? What else would this have led to?

On the bright side who else was able to rob banks and also be able to stop other criminals from doing so before she gets to hit them herself? None other than yourself, of course.

Obviously no one was able to stop the infamous Black Cat or retrieve all the things she'd steal. The cops were completely and utterly useless, slow and dumb. So you always got away and were able to profit off all the high end jewelry you'd steal.

You were going to hit up a jewelry store, to steal a few brand new diamonds for yourself. In your oh so casual Black Cat attire that consisted of a black spandex suit with the matching mask covering your eyes, along with the realistic long silver wig.

You were somewhat unrecognizable, but it wasn't like anyone from your personal life was gonna be robbing banks or jewelry stores. There'd be no reason for anyone in your life to see you when you were doing Black Cat activities.

And with no one to stop you, you were golden. Or were you?

I quickly turned off the security system in the jewelry store from the alley right next to it, I grabbed my bag of goodies and I hid my special tablet behind some trash before quickly going inside by the side door. It was vacant, as expected.

I went to the back of the store and look at the cases with the newest necklaces and rings embedded with shiny diamonds. I trail a finger along the glass and look down at the casing filled with only diamond rings.

I walked along the back of the store, looking at everything, the shiniest of rings and earrings until I spotted the most gorgeous necklace.

Filled with diamonds shaped like flower petals all along the neckline with a leaf shape hanging down with more diamonds around the shape, with a red ruby sitting perfectly right in the middle of it. My eyes flicker with admiration and want, I needed it.

I take my bag off from my shoulder and place it on the floor quickly opening it to grab something to open it. Then I stop and stand up walking to the back of the case and scoff. The key.

What kind of dumbasses leave the fucking key out?

I shrug and roll my eyes unlocking the little door and take the necklace out carefully. No alarm.

Odd but I'm not gonna question it.

I close the case and walk back to my bag and stuff it in one of its pockets then zip it up. I pick it up putting the strap back on my shoulder and walk around the store, stopping when something caught my eye.

I walk over to it and chuckle. How ironic... a gold necklace with a cat hanging out and yet another red ruby being held by it's little collar.

How could I not?

I grab a small tool with a pointy end and walk to the back of the counter. I kneel down and quickly unlock the little door and in just a few seconds it clicks open. I slide the door open and grab the necklace admiring the pretty ruby.

I stand up and grab a few other pieces then walk around the counter and back to my bag. I put them all in another pocket carefully then close it shut.

I wrap my bag around my shoulders and head towards the side door, not really wanting anything else. I open the door and close it quietly before making my way to pick up my tablet from where I left it.

Sure enough it was there and I quickly turned the security system back on before climbing on top of the roof.

I walk along the edge of the roof looking at the view, admiring all the buildings and the glowing moon right above them. I jumped off roof to roof for about half an hour, staring out, as I make my way home.

I was hopping off rooftops while admiring the moonlight and feeling the nice cold breeze. I was one block away from my apartment building when I heard a loud thump behind me. I quickly withdraw my claws and turn around, ready to pounce but I look up and see a huge man in front of me, in some kind of superhero suit? "And who might you be?" I ask, looking at the mysterious man up and down. Damn....

"That doesn't concern you." He snarls and I lift my hands up in fake defense.

"Okay sensitive-" I say and snicker.

"Shut up-"

"Okay well if it doesn't concern me then I'll just be on my way." I say and turn to walk away but his hand quickly grips my shoulder and turns me back around.

His hand then went to my back and some talons appeared out of his arms and he brought one up to my neck. I raised an eyebrow and chuckle, "ah so that's how this is gonna be...."

He's about to say something when I quickly shove him off me and lift my knee up to his crotch, hitting him hard, he groans and his grip on me loosened giving me a chance to quickly escape. I push him off me and make a run for it, jumping onto the next roof while he curses under his breath before I soon heard him land on the same rooftop, but I was about to jump to the next one already.

"Shit-" I curse under my breath and run as fast as I could and jump on the absolute last bit of every rooftop.

Suddenly I feel something wrap around my body, I look down, widening my eyes looking at some kind of red rope and the stranger pulling it making me step towards him. I groan and roll my eyes, "this isn't very nice y'know..."

"Good, it's not meant to be." He mutters walking to me and quickly grabs the straps of my bag, slipping it off my shoulders making me growl.

"Don't-"

"Cute, you think you can tell me what to do." He says, his tone cocky. The nerve.

I shut my eyes and slowly cut through a piece of the rope with my claws, I did it as slowly as I can to not alert him in anyway, let him have his little victory before I snatch my things back and go home. "So who are you?" I ask, annoyed and wanting to fill the silence.

He unzips my bag in front of me and takes out the flower petal diamond necklace first, I bite my lip and roll my eyes. Oh how badly I wanted to just claw my way out of this-

But no, not yet..

"Ah so the little cat likes diamonds huh?" He tuts making me smirk.

"Only girl's best friend." I say and pout, "and you're still gonna take 'em away from me?"

"'Course," he starts then grins, "don't think you can play me with your little games and antics, kitty I'm not gonna fall for it." He says looking at me sternly.

I smirk and shrug, "Every man has his own weak point."

He scoffs and shakes his head, "You're unbelievable."

"Unbelievably irresistible?" I say in a soft voice making him chuckle.

"You just don't stop do you?" He mutters and looks at what else is in my bag.

He pulls out my tablet and I bite my lip, cutting through another piece of rope. He holds it up to me and I just smile, "find anything you like?"

He shakes his head in disbelief and mutters something unintelligible and I just flutter my lashes at him, just gotta keep him distracted for as long as I can.

He's definitely not a cop, some kind of superhero? Like those corny movies? I shake my thoughts away and cut through another piece.

Just a few more and I'll be able to wiggle out...

"So stranger you're not gonna introduce yourself? Don't you have any manners?" I tease and smirk when he rolls his eyes.

He sighs and puts everything back where he found it, zipping every pocket and swings the straps over his shoulder. My eyes make their way to my bag but then land on his body. Jesus his biceps- broad shoulders- holy fuck the way he'd look so good on top-

"Spiderman." He says abruptly interrupting my thoughts.

"What?" I say and blink, confused.

"Names Spiderman." He says and I chuckle.

"I'm sorry-" I say and laugh, "like a tarantula spider?" I ask and he nods.

"What were you bit by a spider?" I joke and laugh.

He shakes his head and smirks through his mask. Hmm wonder what he looks like-

"I wasn't but others were." He says nonchalantly and I just raise an eyebrow.

"Okay... well that's... something." I say still confused and shrug.

My claws cut through another two pieces and I sigh, "well Spiderman, it was nice meeting you but I really gotta head home."

He raises an eyebrow at me and with a singular pull on the ropes they all fell to the floor, he looked at me mouth agape and shocked. "Would really love to stay and chat but I'm not really in the mood to seduce my way out tonight." I say casually and shrug.

I withdraw my own talons pointing it to his chest only lightly grazing his suit, and quickly take my bag off him and wrap it across my shoulder. I trace along his collarbone slowly while staring at his masked eyes, "but maybe we can do that in the future." I whisper giving him a wink, before quickly running to the edge and jump off the roof.

I landed on a set of stairs of the random apartment building we were on top of, I quickly hop off the side of them and slide down a pipe before sprinting down the alley and running towards my apartment.

I somehow made it without being followed, I made it to side of the building since it was on a corner. I unzipped my bag and took out a jacket before quickly putting it on and zipping it up. I take off my mask and stuff it in my pocket then grab my keys and go through the front door.

I walk towards the elevator and press the button and it immediately opens up. I walk in and press the button to my floor and it moves up. I sigh and lean against the wall, and not a single scratch on me.

It dinged and I quickly walk out and turn to the right, walking towards my apartment. I unlock the door, walking in and place the bag on the floor carefully before closing the door and putting the two locks on them. Another successful robbery.

And thus the Black Cat finally had someone worthy of being able to capture her. Sure it wasn't completely successful on Spiderman's behalf but it was the closest anyone has even gotten.

That robbery wasn't your first of almost getting caught, if anything it was the start of a long lasting game of cat and mouse.

Sometimes he'd go easy on you. Sometimes you wouldn't try so hard to escape. But every time, both of you would keep your interactions going for as long as you could, not getting enough of each other.

Both feeling the upmost attraction to one another but Spiderman doesn't want to fall into temptation while Black Cat continues to press on.

The thrill of it all being almost too much for both parties, but neither could help but want to continue this back and forth game.

Will Black Cat continue to press on or give up?

Will Spiderman stay strong or fall into his deepest desires?

"Spider! So glad you could make it tonight!" I say enthusiastically looking up at my new favorite person to stumble upon when I'm out stealing.

"Well I can't just let you steal more now can I, kitty?" He says looking down at me.

I bite my lip and can't help but admire his body again, like I do every time. just completely ignoring what he said. "You look good Spidey, have you been working out recently?" I ask as I place my bag down on the floor of the roof we were on.

"Maybe a bit." He says and gets off the edge of the roof and steps in front of me, still holding my gaze.

"Getting prettier kitty?" He says taking another step closer to me as I smile.

"Just for you." I whisper and quickly wrapping my arms behind his neck and lean up.

I felt his breath on my lips as I looked into his masked eyes, curiosity getting the best of me as I bring a hand to his neck and grabbing on the end of his mask slowly bringing it up. He instantly brings a hand up to stop me but I swat him away and only bring the mask above his lips.

Such pretty pink plump lips.

I let my thumb lightly graze his bottom lip, I feel it shake a little making me grin. "You could just give in y'know." I whisper and move my hand to go down and trail along his shoulder.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you know I can't."

"But we both know you want to." I murmur and move my head to look at his neck.

I leave the smallest of soft and open-mouthed kisses I can give as I feel his breathing speed up and his hands going back to grip my waist. I go up and lightly nibble on his earlobe making him moan and tilt his head back. I pull away and go back down to his neck, leaving wet kisses along his warm skin before I find the perfect spot to suck on.

I suck gently on his skin then let my tongue graze against his skin then leave a kiss on the new bruise. He lets out a moan and I feel him grip my waist a bit harder making me giggle. "Can't even deny it, can you Spidey?" I tease and he shakes his head no.

I leave kisses all along his neck then up his throat and against his Adam's apple, I felt the vibration of a groan against my mouth making me shiver with pure excitement as I squeezed my thighs together. "You know I can't kitty." He purrs making me bite my lip.

I pull away from him and he brings a hand up from my waist and takes off the rest of his mask. I widen my eyes but before I could properly admire him, he smashed our lips together in a very hungry kiss.

I kiss him back with the same intensity, my hands going up to his hair as his went down to my waist, bringing me as close to him as possible. I tug on his hair making him groan so I slide my tongue in ready to explore every inch but I soon felt his tongue on mine.

I felt my breathing getting unsteady quickly and felt butterflies all over my skin as the kiss was growing more passionate. I let him slide his tongue into my mouth when I felt a hard smack against my ass making me moan. His movements become more frantic and fast, I felt both of his hands squeezing and spanking my ass making me whimper against his mouth.

He pulls away since we were both starting to lose our breath, I try to calm myself down as he continued smacking my ass, surely making it red under my spandex. "You're so pretty." He murmurs and moves his head down to kiss my neck gently.

I let out a shaky breath and feel my eyes flutter as I tilt my head back to give him more access. "So pretty." He murmurs against my skin making me moan and squeeze my thighs.

"I need you-" he purrs, moving his hand to my inner thigh.

"Then have me." I breathe out and he groans.

He reached for the zipper by my neck and slowly brings it down. It goes down my chest as he continues dragging it down and stops at my stomach. He looks up and moans as I take my arms out of the suit, revealing my bare tits to him. His hands immediately went to squeeze them not having a care in the world that we were out in public on a random roof of a building.

He squeezed them both at the same time then started pinching both nipples making me yelp because he did it too hard so fast, he muttered a quick apology before he goes down and takes turns sucking on each sensitive nub. My hands went up to his hair as his were pulling the rest of my suit down, "eager are we?" I tease before letting out a moan as he reached down to rub to my covered pussy.

"You can't blame me," he mutters then pulls away and going down to his knees, "it's not my fault you look this fucking good." He says leaving the smallest of kisses on my inner thighs.

I let out a shaky breath and move back to lean against a pole, he scoots forward and leaves a kiss right over my clothed clit. "Spider-"

He hums as his hands slide up and quickly brings my panties down. He gets them off my legs and spreads my legs, gently blowing air along my now exposed pussy. He moans as he brings two fingers and gently rubs along my folds, my slickness enveloping them. "God you're so fucking wet for me baby." He mutters under his breath and I feel my legs shake.

I nod and bite my lip, taking the sight below me in awe. He looked so fucking good.

"Might just have to take you like this baby..." he murmurs before his mouth finally makes contact with my pussy.

"Oh fuck-" I moan and bring my hand down to grip his curls.

He starts devouring it as if it were his last meal and with one finger teasing my entrance making me buck my hips around his face. "Please-" I whimper and slowly move my hips.

He moans against me making me let out a whine because of how delicious the vibration felt and I feel his finger slip in, and slowly make its way inside. My walls clenching against his finger as he quickly shoved it then back out and back in again.

He repeated this a few times and right when I was going to complain when he slowed down, he added another finger and actually started fucking me right.

The only thing being heard on the rooftop being my moans and the sounds that were coming from between my legs, everything else was silent. And thank god for that.

He pumps them inside at a faster pace and curls his fingers up making sure to hit that spot oh so perfectly. "Fuck- just like that Spider-" I moan out, leaning my head back.

"So fucking dirty-" he mumbles not stopping his pace.

"Huh letting me do this to you out in public kitty? Don't even care if we get caught? You like this don't you?" He murmurs and I bite my lip, nodding as he looks up at me.

"Look at me and tell me how much you love it." He demands, going deeper making me a moaning mess above him.

I look down and lock my gaze to his eyes, "I love it so much- fuck! F-feels so good." I whimper and lean back on to the pole.

"That's a good girl." He purrs and I feel myself clench against him, holy fuck-

He then leans in and starts sucking on my clit hungrily as he continues fucking me. I move my hips against his face and clasp my hand over my mouth feeling my orgasm quickly approaching. "S-Spider-"

Instead of responding he adds a third finger, fucking me deeper as all my arousal spills out. My legs began shaking and I tried to pull away but he quickly wrapped his other arm around me making me stay still. I move my hand away from my mouth and just let out bundles of cries as my orgasm hits.

He slowed down and kept fucking me letting me ride out my high while leaving me absolutely breathless. My heart was beating fast and my breathing was hard, I was trying my hardest to calm myself down but it just felt so good.

He finally stopped moving his fingers and just let them deep inside me, only slowly pulling them out. He pulls away from my soaked clit and looks up at me with a smile, my juices glistening on his lips and dribbling down his chin.

I chuckle and give him a lazy smile as he finally pulls his fingers out, I instantly feel more of my juices come out and I squeeze my thighs together. Can't just leak all over this roof....

I finally feel my breathing being steady and widen at the sight of him sucking on his fingers, having a taste of me. I roll my eyes back and moan, he looked so fucking good.

He slips his fingers out and gets up from his knees, standing up in front of me, "You taste fucking amazing kitty." He groans and I immediately pull him in for a kiss.

He moans against my mouth as I get a taste of myself as well, surprisingly sweet. I let him slide his tongue into my mouth as I have a hand travel down to his hard bulge.

I lightly rub it as I kiss him back hungrily and only start stroking it when he moans in my mouth. I pull away and grin, lips trailing down his mouth, to his chin, jaw, then neck. I kiss around his neck then suck on the soft skin before licking it gently.

I continue stroking him through his suit and the moans escaping his lips were just so delicious to my ears while I kept leaving marks on his neck. "You gotta get rid of this suit Spider." I murmur and he moans in agreement.

He pulls away from me and taps the back of his neck and suddenly the bottom half of his suit disintegrated revealing his thick and long cock spring up against his stomach. I bite my lip and without a second thought drop down to my knees.

I immediately take hold of it and start licking the precum off the tip, making sure to get every last drop. I don't waste anymore time and take him into my mouth, trying to take as much of him as I can. Only able to take half at first and already gagging had me thinking of how this would be a tight fit.

He was going to make me feel so tight as if it were the first time all over again but maybe he'd fit to perfect and fuck me so good. I felt drool drip down my chin and I realized I was taking more of him now.

I pulled out and look up at him with innocent eyes before sticking my tongue out and slap the tip on it. He groans and takes hold of my ponytail, leading me back to taking him.

I moan as he takes control and slowly thrusts his hips into my face, making me more and more wet. I closed my eyes and moved my head as well now taking him all the way that his trimmed hairs lightly tickled my nose. "Just like that- fuck just like kitty." He moans out and thrusts again making me gag.

He pulled on my hair and made me go back to his tip then thrusted his hips forward, then back until he decided to just start fucking my face. I let it happen and just look up at him all teary eyed as my throat was getting fucked.

Suddenly he pulls away and grabs my arm making me stand up with him. He wipes the drool off the side of my cheeks and then flips me over and bends me making me take hold of the pole.

He makes me arch my back and stick my ass out when I feel him position himself to my entrance. He moved his tip up and down my folds even to my clit then down to my aching hole then needed to be filled up again.

As if hearing my thoughts he slowly pushed himself inside making me immediately clench against his tip and having us both moan. He already felt so big and he was only barely inside...

I took a deep breath in then let it out and he takes hold of my hips as I grip on to the pole tightly. He pushes himself in and I could only guess it was about halfway before he slammed the rest in. "Fuck!!!" I cry out and move my ass against him earning myself a hard smack.

"You're so fucking tight." He groans and rubs my skin as he pulls back then slams himself into me again.

I moan and lean my head against the pole as he slowly starts to fuck me. After a few slow thrusts and he notices I've gotten comfortable and use to his size he finally starts going faster.

I bit my lip hard really trying to stay as quiet as I can, almost feeling bad if we wake anyone up but also the thought going away immediately when I feel a hand against my throat. I breathe in and quickly regret it for obvious reasons even though his grip wasn't too tight.

He then forces my throat back, making me stand up straight as he fucks me harder. I roll my eyes back and against his hard chest, his hand still wrapped around my throat as I forcibly hold back moans as he pounds into me. "God this pussy feels so good." He moans making me breathe out and hold on to his arm wanting a release.

He groans and fucks me even harder, his grip on my throat now being slightly tighter. A combination of a mewl and a cry escape my lips making him chuckle as he brings his lips to my ear, gently nibbling on it.

His lips then went down to the side of my neck and his other hand around my waist. His hand then trailed down to my stomach and he pressed it above my belly button making me clench.

He lets out of my throat and I let out cries as he continues pressing on my stomach, it feeling unbearably strange but good. "Fuck!! Spider- fuck- feels s-so- g-good." I choke out and he grunts.

"You're taking me so well baby- fuck- feel that? Mmm feel how much you're taking right now?" He moans into my ear running a shiver down my spine.

He brings his hand down to my waist while the other stayed where he was buried deep inside me. I'd never felt this before and it just felt so good. Also had me noticing how I was able to take all of him at once.

"Please- fuck me harder- deeper please." I moan out and he groans.

He does just that and slams his hips into mine making me cry out and hold on to his arms. "Fuck-"

I felt the all too familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach as he continued ramming into me earning all kinds of noises leaving my mouth. "I'm so close-"

He holds onto me tighter and just this size difference alone might've thrown me over the edge if I really thought about it considering how huge he was compared to me. "Let go baby. I wanna feel you cum around me." He murmurs and I nod.

With one final deep thrust my orgasm hit hard and i felt my legs almost give up but I was held tightly and didn't worry about falling. I felt my body shake as he shot his cum deep inside me and I could hear his moans in my ear.

I leaned my head against his chest and I felt his chin on top of my head, and I think he kissed it? I wasn't sure if I felt that right but I was too fucked out to question it.

He slowly pulls out and I could have swore I felt him twitch inside me as he was pulling out. Finally I felt his tip pop out and I instantly feel my pussy gush out all his cum. I chuckle and look down as it spills to the floor, guess it was gonna leak anyway...

"You took me so well kitty." He purrs into my ear and I grin turning my head to look at him.

"You fucked me so well spider," I murmur looking deeply into his eyes, "even better than I'd have ever imagined." I whisper and he crashes his lips onto mine.

I kiss back and turn my body to face him as his hands explore my body while mine go behind his neck. "We've gotten so this more often." I murmur against his mouth and he just nods.

"Absolutely." He mutters and smacks my ass.

#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara imagine #spiderman

348 notes · View notes

dejabooooo · 3 months

Text

The Anti-Pines family is utterly fascinating. We have the blueprint for an entire pseudo canon AU, and remarkably I have seen little input from the fandom in regards to it. I can’t imagine why because there is SO MUCH TO WORK WITH HERE.

Anti-Waddles being as nefarious as Anti-Mabel. “The first pig to ever go to jail for armed robbery.” Like 😭😭 imagine waddles standing upright and holding a tommy gun. Imagine no one in the bank their holding up taking them seriously because they’re an adorable little girl and a chubby pig, and mabel threatening to put a bullet between someone’s eyes like “u better cough up the bacon before this bacon smokes u.” I wanna see what other heinous atrocities the cutest crime duo in the multiverse get up to.

ANTI-SOOS BEING A FORBES BILLIONAIRE HOW AND WHY DID THIS HAPPEN

You’d think if Anti-Ford represents the opposite of Ford that you’d wind up with someone who is exceptionally normal and uninteresting but NOPE. Anti-Ford is easily the weirdest here. FUCKING??? YOUTUBER??? DJ?? A sixty-something year old man with 200 subscribers who posts about his dubstep set lists daily. Utterly baffling.

Anti-Stan and Anti-Dipper are the most understandable in terms of being complete opposites of their counterparts, but all of this makes me wonder how differently their stories would play out because of this. Anti-Mabel was “chased out of her dimension” for being so evil. How does her family feel about this? Are they trying to get her back? Does this bizarre cast embark on a comical and heartfelt journey to try and bring her home? A journey that ends in an emotional reunion? Perhaps one that Mabel fights as she clings to her indifferent, cold ideology while her family begs her to come home. All of them recollecting her horrible crimes with proportionately little exasperation and an abundance of fondness. Stan recounting when she stole all the money from a fundraiser he’d held so she could instead invest the funds into remodeling their entire house to have a monochrome minimalist decor. Ford reminiscing about the time she tried to use his channel to funnel money into a crypto/nft scheme. Dipper having countless stories. like how happy she’d make him when he’d get to skip school thanks to her (because she burned down the school, multiple times). About how she’d sabotaged pretty much all of his relationships, but it was a good thing in the end because it allowed him to realize that who he always really loved was that dorky socially awkward corduroy girl he hadn’t noticed at first. All of this retrospection from her family chipping away at her hardened heart and- phew, I'm getting carried away, but the possibilities, man! These characters could be so much more than a one time joke.

There is also the matter of Anti-Bill. “He is very boring.” Shut up??? Speak for urself, schmebulock, he sounds delightful. This is another character I believe you could expand in many interesting ways. I mean think about it, a being possessing the same caliber of bill’s omniscience and using it for good sounds amazing. Knowing all the beauty in all the universes and going out of his way to share it with weary minds through their dreams. Nullifying nightmares. What if he were a healing antidote to the mind, a medicine to bill’s mind unraveling madness? What if they knew each other?

Do you see my (delusional) vision here guys?

#gravity falls #gf #mabel pines #waddles #soos ramirez #stanford pines #dipper pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines #bill cipher

384 notes · View notes

houseofpurplestars · 1 month

Text

Just a few pieces of solidarity news reported by Kuffiya since the beginning of March:

A court in London ordered UK Parliament Member Michelle Donelan to apologize and pay financial compensation to academics she accused of “extremism” for their pro-Palestine positions.

Google fired an employee who staged a protest against the chief of Google Israel during a company-sponsored Israeli tech event, accusing the company of complicity in Israel's treatment of Palestinians in Gaza.

“Stop killing Gaza." Pro-Palestine protesters held a rally in front of Japan's parliament in support of Gaza.

Pro-Palestinian students held a die-in at the Faculty of Law University of Windsor in protest against the ongoing Israeli genocide in Gaza.

"While we watch the Oscars, Israel's genocide in Gaza continues." A projection in Columbus Circle was seen by Academy members at the official New York City Oscars watch party at the Mandarin Oriental.

Boston activists shut down the Chase Bank branch, an Elbit shareholder, in commemoration of the over 30,000 Palestinians who were murdered by Israel in Gaza.

"Shame on you!" Tom Perez, a senior adviser to President Joe Biden, was rebuked at a grocery store regarding his administration's backing of the ongoing Israeli violence in Gaza.

t.me/kuffiya

#kuffiya #free palestine #free gaza #i stand with palestine #palestine #gaza #solidarity #boycott google

163 notes · View notes

caramelcleopatraa · 2 months

Text

TALK IT OUT

word count: 1100~

x: Presented to you by: The Bank: A short piece of fiction starring Roman & Aaliyah (got this done in a couple of hours, so excuse the errors you see. thinking of doing a part two for this one. feel free to comment... i'm a whore for comments)

content: Roman Reigns x Aahliyah, suggestive themes (ofc)

She was in no mood to argue. Today has already been a long day, but things never go as planned. Her quick paces were not enough to escape him chasing after her, but their bedroom door would. She slammed the bedroom door just for him to bust through seconds later, and the infuriating bickering started once again.

“What is your problem Aahliyah?”

“I just told you what my problem is.” She quickly disappeared into their shared bathroom with her silk robe in hand. “I'm tired of arguing with you, I'm tired, Roman.” Roman lets out a weighted sigh and wipes his hand over his face. “So that's it? You wanna leave this conversation unfinished?” She reached to turn the cold silver knob to her desired temperature. She finally turned to face him for the first time in minutes. “I'm gonna need you to get out.” Roman walks closer to her, towering over her 5’7 frame. “Nah, that’s not gonna work for me. You gon’ calm the hell down and we gon’ talk this shit out,” he huffs, standing tall in front of her, staring into her brown eyes.

“Since you wanna talk shit out, go talk it out with her.” She didn’t know that the conversation would drag out this long, especially over some random girl. Sabrina Smith. She's been throwing herself at Roman for as long as they’ve been in a relationship. It never bothered her before, but she started to get bolder with her attempts. Scandalously flirting with him right in front of her, wearing more revealing clothing, referring to Roman as her future husband. It screamed fan behavior, but as much as that woman irked her nerves, her problem isn't with her this time. Everytime she approaches him, he minds his business, but doesn’t bother telling her off or telling her to simply get lost. He sits there and ignores her, letting her make a fool of herself, but somehow never tells her to back up. That was her problem.

“You act like I'm entertaining the damn woman.” She faced the wide mirror that reflected anger radiating from both of their bodies. The shower had already been running for a minute, so she started to speedily undress to run away from the escalating discussion. “You might as well be. You don't tell her to stop or back up, anything! You just let her do whatever.”

“Because I dont give a fuck about her, Liyah.” He leans on the cream marble counter and crosses his muscular arms over his chest. “Yeah, whatever. I’m done.” She hears Roman scoff, but she doesn't pay much attention to it. He knew that when she said she’s done, she’s done. Aahliyah doesn't like to prolong arguments, and with this argument that they were having, She could already tell that they were on opposite sides of the spectrum. She stepped into the steaming shower in an attempt to calm herself down from the rush of emotions, when Aahliyah felt a rush of cold air hit her side. The glass door quickly shuts and a pair of hands snake around her waist. “You should know better than to run away from me,” Roman whispers in her ear. ‘Well there goes my plan for relaxation for the rest of the night.’ She knew how Roman was when they had arguments. He never liked leaving her angry or unhappy, he preferred to talk it out, no matter how long it took. “Are you at least going to let me shower?” He grins at her and replies, “Of course, but you’re still gonna tell me what the hell is going o-”

“Do you like her or something?” She turns to face him in the spacious shower. He was already focused on her before she turned around. His hair was pulled back into his standard man-bun, and of course, stark naked, with occasional water droplets decorating his broad frame. Confusion was written all over his face when that question escaped her mouth. “Why the hell would I like her? I come home to you every night, don't I?” She interlocked her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands. Directing her eyes to look anywhere but him. “I know that, it’s just that… if you don't tell her to stop when she openly flirts with you, it makes me think that you like her giving you attention. That's all.”

His right hand lowers her interlocked fingers and replaces them with his hand, lifting her head to get a clear look at her. “Why didn't you tell me at first?” She bit her lip in deep thought, reflecting on her attitude and approach at the start of the argument. “I don't know, I just thought you knew that already.” His thumb rubs side to side against her soft caramel skin, logging and observing each reaction she made. “Well i didn't think of it like that, thank you for telling me.” He closed the space between them by feathering small kisses on her cheek. In no time, his lips collided with hers, letting his right hand disconnect from her chin and drag down her curves. It was second nature for him to fill his hands with her beautiful assets, and she never complained. Their lips clashed in passionate kisses, feeling each other’s bodies and letting themselves get lost in the moment. She pulled away from their heated makeout session, chest heaving, clinging onto her lover. “This doesn't mean I'm not mad at you still.” He worked down her jaw to her neck, still planting kisses on her skin. “How can I make it up to you, mama?” She gasps at the sudden pinch to her neck, followed by a cycle of kissing and sucking, which already fogged her mind better than the steam could fog the huge glass doors. “By getting out and letting me shower in peace,” She joked, gently massaging both his shoulders. “Hah, hell no. I got a better idea” He pulls away from the crook of her neck and pulls her arms around his neck tightly. He chuckles at her surprised yelp when she is hoisted into the air, quickly locking her legs around his waist. Her sumptuous thighs were overflowing in his hands, and the position that she was in, made her forget why she was even mad in the first place.

“Let me show you that you’re the only one I'm entertaining, baby.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

Welcome to your new addiction

#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #carmenreigns #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns x you #roman x aahliyah [oc]#[ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧･ﾟ: * the bankk ✧･ﾟ:* ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ]

149 notes · View notes

hanibalistic · 10 months

Text

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 8175

warning | briefe violence / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie / this part deviates from the movie

parts | one, two, three, four

There were four things you learned from what happened at the bank.

One, Gwen's finishing touches to your glitch-prevention bracelet saved the essential parts of your body—neck down and hip up—from getting injured. Upon detecting the incoming air pressure released from the explosions, which the bracelet mistook as the effect of a glitch, it surrounded your torso with a protective shield that would have covered you fully if the blasts did not cause it to malfunction.

Two, the loyalty Rio has for her son was extraordinary. After Miles called her out to the back alley of the hospital building, she did not hesitate a second to sneak you into a vacant room and take from the hospital the medical supplies needed to treat you as best as she could. She did not ask any questions. It was one look on Miles’s anxious face, and she was on her feet, taking charge. Because of the safety measures Gwen placed in your bracelet, you did not sustain any fatal wounds, making it much easier for Rio to help you. The only problem you encountered was pain, a lot of it.

Three, Miles has done terrible things. He was the prowler, whatever that meant. The explosions were one of the significant steps in a bank heist that he, Uncle Aaron, and Gwen took up as a side project. Most of the time, they work on lucrative commissions offered by the likes of Kingpin, whoever that was. Kidnapping, assault, and even murder were not irregular to him. He confessed that he had killed someone before, and you asked him to stop it at that.

Four, after shutting yourself out from everyone, except for letting Rio bring you food occasionally, you realized you couldn’t care less about what Miles has done.

The thought haunted you, leaving you in an endless debate with yourself. How dare you let go of your conscience? How dare you treat a criminal with kindness? How dare you look a killer in the eyes and see someone different than their dirty past? To say you were distraught would be an understatement, as the accusations your mind kept throwing at yourself were the least troublesome hurdle to jump through. The most teeth-rotting matter was that you were guilty. You avoided seeing Miles because you knew once you did, the outrageous truth would hit you harder than the bomb blasts did. The fact that you still looked at him with love.

“Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah–yeah. For sure.”

You climbed on his bed and sat cross-legged next to him. Miles sucked in a breath when you touched knees, and suddenly, all his senses were focused on that particular contact spot. You picked at your fingers sheepishly, feeling rather silly about your week-long silent treatment. But you needed it for self-reflection and to come to terms with your conclusion. Miles waited for you to speak. He didn’t know if this was only a spur of the moment, and he wasn’t willing to take any risks that might chase you out of his room.

“I thought about what you told me at the hospital,” you started, rubbing your hands.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he said, turning his head ever-so-slightly to gauge your reaction. “I would never hurt you on purpose, [Name]. I really had no idea you were there.”

“I know,” you nodded with a faint smile, “I forgave you the night it happened.”

You felt he didn’t accept your forgiveness and supposed that was only natural. If you were in his shoes, the mental gymnastics you would do to keep yourself occupied with blam could rival his. The only thing that could get him to treat himself kinder would be time, specifically having you pass through it with him. Licking your lower lip, you rubbed your nose and hummed a soft, audible grin. He turned fully to you then, feeling less anxious.

“Miles, I don’t judge you for what you did or what you plan to do,” you said, your head mildly gesturing in emphasis. Concentrating in deep thoughts, you rubbed your eyes, sniffed comfortably, and faced him with a knowing upside-down smile. “Be it you have a reason or not, I don’t think I will ever–how do I say this? I don’t think I will distance myself from you, ever.”

He felt breathless, but it came from the incongruence between his mind and heart rather than the supposed relief that you accepted him. He was too accustomed to anticipating horrific reactions that he forgot people could be open-minded. You were not supposed to be okay with what he did. You couldn’t be okay with what he did!

“[Name],” he heaved out with an uncontrollable shake of his head, “my hands are bloody.”

You looked down at where he rested them on his lap. Were they? Miles’s hands may be bloody, but they were also a multitude of other things. They are a mother’s secret financial support; they peel the skin off fruits, stroke your hair when you cry to sleep and dance across your love handles in a ticklish haze. You reached out tentatively to hold them, finally realizing he was trembling. Was he scared? You didn’t react to it. His hands fit cozily in yours, as they always have, and suddenly, Miles didn’t fear the atrocity they were capable of. You broke him down, mellowed him out, rinsed him off all he’s ashamed of, and he—

“Mine will cover the stains for you.” You held up your interwind hands with a tight-lipped smile. “See? Can’t even see your palms anymore.”

—loves you, in a frightening way that it seemed like you felt the same way too.

“[Name],” he hushed, his head dipping in exhaustion. “I’m not gonna stop berating myself.”

He wouldn’t, and it would hurt you less than it would hurt him.

You let go of his hands and watched him desperately scramble for you. It was a heartbreaking sight, even for a split second, to see his longing ragged out like an unwatered plant reaching for the faintest taste of rain. Getting your arms out and open, you refolded your legs into kneeling to pull him into a proper hug. Miles gritted his teeth to silence the screeching voices as he returned the hug immediately. When he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the usual crank of it because your neck was sensitive and ticklish, he began to calm down.

Feeling you pat his back, he supposed this was all anything should feel like. Love—a word capable of expressing an emotion of its terrifying caliber. What else could it be? True love is the inability to abandon, in the same way Miles waited for you even after you died, and you refused to let go of his cold-blooded hands made warm by holding yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” You nodded with a sudden thoughtful hum. “Hey, you know what you can do to make it up to me?”

Miles perked up slightly and pulled away. He raised a brow when he saw the bashful smile on your face. You’ve got an idea, and he might not like it.

The pressure in your stomach dropped whenever Miles was pulled back to the ground by gravity. Not a second after reaching the floor, he was up in the air again, his boots allowing him to reach a much greater height and distance when he jumped. As the chilling air hit your face and hair, you realized Miles was right to bundle you up after he finally agreed to take you on a stroll high up in the air.

When you raised the idea to him, his reaction was as he suspected: he did not like it. Or, well, he did not understand it.

You had told him about the faint memory of a floaty feeling the day of the bank accident, which, after he told you about him being the prowler, you could deduce had come from him taking an unconventional shortcut to the hospital. He made the mistake of admitting that he was hopping from roof to roof to get you there because the next thing you asked was for him to do it again, but this time you would be conscious of experiencing it.

Perhaps he has possessed the convenience his prowler suit gave him for too long. He couldn’t understand being fascinated with the ability to be in the air. You briefly mentioned Spiderman and his interesting web-shooting function as an argument to get Miles to understand you, but how could he? He wasn’t even sure if Spiderman was real! Still, he caved into your wish, grabbed the boots he kept hidden in his closet because he refused to go anywhere with the risk of bumping into him for now, and brought you on a rooftop stroll.

What was originally a safety hazard forcing his claws to wrap steel tight around your body soon shifted into something of ease. His heart grew in size at how much fun you were having, and for once, he reverted to the boy he was the first time he experienced the thrill this well-made suit gave him. He kept his eyes forward to map a path across the buildings, his claws helping him move closer to the sky. He heard your uncontrollable laughter, he wished he could see your eyes light up brighter than the moon above, and he envied the wind that brushed your face and hair.

This was a good idea. This may be the single best thing he has done.

“Where are we going?” you whispered, tightening your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Hold on tight.”

Miles kicked his feet against the brick wall to hoist himself a good distance upward before forcing his claws through the concrete. He pressed the hand on the low of your back into his body, keeping you steady in one arm. You couldn’t bear to look around at the height you were stuck in, but the arm strength Miles has to support two weights while climbing up a tall building with one arm was surprising and, dare you say, attractive.

The skyscraper was a place Miles hadn’t visited since ‘your’ death. Being here with you now did not make him feel better. He was careful where he stood on the edge of the highest point of the building; he wanted you to look over the bright borough.

“Oh, no way! You brought me to the skyscraper?” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “You always said no when I wanted to come here.”

“I got reasons,” he huffed out quietly. Upon your silence, he peered down from the night view and saw you staring at him expectantly. He barely rolled his eyes in defeat. “You died here. You fell.”

The high-pitched hum you let out was comedically timed. Rigidly turning your head to face out, you could only imagine the exact height of this skyscraper as you could not see below the horizon. No wonder he didn’t let you on the ground—this would be one hell of a fall if history repeats itself. Miles chuckled lowly when you curled your arms tighter around his neck and slumped your weight further into him. You echoed his chuckle.

“Well,” you muttered, “definitely not letting go of you anytime sooner.”

“I’m not gonna either,” he said.

A sudden gust of wind blew at your face. You leaned closer to his neck for warmth, your eyes squinting at the building lights. It was too late into the night for the borough to remain bustling as in the morning, but the illumination from apartments, stores, and other high buildings made an equally homey view. The silence was enjoyable, too; just the open air and the inner sound of you counting your breath.

“Was it embarrassing?” you asked suddenly, your voice hoarse.

“What is?”

“Me falling? I don’t know–“ your body shifted upward, forcing Miles to adjust to your new position–“did I look weird when falling? Did you see me fall? Did anyone see me fall–oh my god, were the police here?”

“I’m sorry. Where is this coming from?” he asked with a confused deadpan. “What are you even saying? None of that matters?”

“It actually does matter because I feel–“ you sucked in a deep breath dramatically–“I don’t like having too much attention on me, and if the police came, I feel that would be very awkward.”

“You trippin’.” He rolled his eyes.

“What? That’s very valid!” You knocked your fist on the back of his shoulder. “Did I look weird when I landed? Did you see it? Did my brain splatter–“ You quieted down with an opened mouth when he flashed you a pointed look, but several suppressed giggles periodically left your lips as you moved your hands from his neck to cup his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put that thought in your head! Don’t think about that!”

Miles’s eyes softened. He wanted to kiss the laugh lines around your mouth. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”

You breathed out the last of your giggles and then stared at him. He was thinking about you even with you here—you knew, you knew very well. Your fingers grew timid at his stare, but they refused to leave the curve of his face. They could only ghost across his skin in freckled spots, treating him with the care he has given you. Miles barely leaned into your touch. He tested the water first, afraid that you would pull away at his immediate engagement, and he fully pressed his palm to your hand when you kept it where it was.

You brought his face to yours. “Hey!” you whispered with a soft grin when your nose touched.

“Hey,” he returned. He was soft. You’ve made him soft, made him a messenger of affection. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know.”

You pursed your lips at the feeling of his nose scraping past the bridge of yours. He was leaning closer, inviting you to something more intimidating than standing on the edge of a skyscraper.

“Miles.” your voice was hushed. “Miles, I’m shy. Can you kiss me first?”

He leaned forward to kiss you after dropping a relieved sigh. You closed your eyes at the sheer force of his desperation, your hands mustering up the courage to grip his face tighter and bring him to you. The taste of your lips cascaded over his conscience. You hit him, like a ton of bricks, like the feeling of flesh wrapped around a blade, like being in the center of a firework explosion. It was a feeling he would trade anything for; one could ask him for a lifetime in return for a second of your lips on his.

“Woah! Did you forget you’re on the run, Miles?”

“Oh, jeez! Mayday, don’t look!”

You two broke away immediately at the uninvited voices. Miles puffed air into his cheeks with an eye roll, not even attempting to hide how irritated he was at the interruption. Still heaving from the kiss, your brows furrowed when you came face to face with four outrageously different-sized figures, all dressed in a variation of a Spider suit, with a literal toddler wearing a Spiderman mask too small for her head.

“Who…?” you started slowly. “Spidermen…? Spiderman’s sidekicks?”

“Now that’s just disrespectful,” the one with spikes on his head commented.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you muttered in response.

“Who are you guys?” Miles asked defensively as he took a few steps back. He held you closer to him, his knees barely buckling in preparation to run.

“How could you forget your mentor, Miles?” The man took off his mask and opened his arms as an introduction. “It’s me! Peter!”

“Oh my god, it’s Spiderman.” You slapped Miles’s chest to be let down on the ground, but he refused. Although his hair color changed, and he looked relatively scruffier than you remembered on the news, those features could not be mistaken. That was the face of the superhero you grew up seeing. “I thought you died. It was all over the news!”

“How could I be standing here if I died?”

“You know him?” Miles questioned. “I don’t know him.”

“Apparently not?” you mumbled. “Maybe he faked his death somehow?”

“Wait, what about me? You remember me! It’s Pavitr? We fought together! You saved my girlfriend’s dad, Inspector Singh?” He pointed over to his friends, his hair bouncing lusciously. “With Gwen and Hobie?”

“Gwen?” you and Mils exclaimed in unison. Her eyes widened at the sudden collective attention.

“Dude, what are you wearing?”

“Gwen, you’re a Spiderman–err, woman?”

“Okay, you’re seriously playing up the Spiderman jokes?” Miles deadpanned as he arched his neck to look at you.

You pulled a face before swinging your arms to gesture at five newcomers. “They’re literally here. Spiders, all of them!”

“I’ve never seen spiders stand on two feet.”

“Clearly, you haven’t seen a lot.”

Miles sniffed with distaste. “Right. I’m gonna listen to someone with spikes on their head.”

“Miles!” you exclaimed with a harsh pinch to his cheek, then you turned to apologize. “I’m sorry. I think they look super cool.”

Taking a step forward, Gwen promptly eliminated the ongoing conversation by taking off her mask to reveal herself to you both. You tilted your head. She looked nothing like the Gwen you knew, and from her furrowed brows and darting eyes, she knew too. After a prolonged stare between you and Miles, the puzzles in her head piecing together, her relieved sigh was barely noticeable as realization hit her. She turned to her team with a shake of her head.

“This isn’t the Miles we’re looking for,” she said. “This is Miles from this Earth.”

“I knew that already,” Hobie smirked, hands in his pockets. “With the braids and all.”

Pavitr gasped with widening eyes. He pressed a hand to his chin and nodded. “Oh wow, I didn’t even register that. You look good, Miles!”

You punched Miles’s chest when he kept a brooding silence. He scoffed, smacked his teeth in dismay, then slurred out, “Thanks.”

“Okay, wait! Hold on, hold on!” Peter yelled without having gathered his thoughts. He shifted the weight of his legs, leaning on one hip, and pinched the bridge of his nose as a monotonous thinking noise churched out of his throat in a flat line. “But how? Our watch told us he was here. It gave us the signal that someone from Earth-1610 is here.”

“Someone is,” Gwen said. She turned around slowly, a look of uncertainty, then she pointed at you. “It’s them.”

None of them explicitly explained what they were talking about, but using your experiences and the confusing context clues, you could easily decipher the problem's gist. Something was happening on a multi-universal level. You didn’t know what exactly, but this felt to be a problem regarding that.

“Gwen, I know you thought you explained the issue but you didn’t,” Peter muttered. He whipped his body around to you and held both hands in the air in a chopping motion. “Are you a Spiderman?”

“No.”

“Not you, big guy. You!”

“Oh, me?” You pointed at yourself for clarification and shook your head. “No, but there is one where I came from. Technically there are two, but the original one died, and he looked almost exactly like you! Just different hair color and… ski–never mind.”

“First of all, I had a feeling you were gonna call me fat. I’m not. I just look like a dad now, which I am. I have to clarify, okay? This is all dad weight, and this cutie-pie is my daughter, Mayday!” Peter said as he gestured toward himself and at Mayday. Then, he burst into a fit of confused noises. “Second, where you came from?” he repeated after you incredulously, paused for a brief moment, and then turned to Gwen, his eyes rolling. “Okay, yeah. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Psst… what are they talking about?” Pavitr whispered from the side, unknowingly having inched closer toward Hobie, who leaned down to his height for an explanation.

“That lad is Miles’s lookalike from this Earth. The one he’s clutching to him like a madman is from our Miles’s Earth, which is bonkers 'cause how did they even get here?”

“They’re not from here?” Pavitr widened his eyes. “That’s not good!”

“How so?” Hobie stood up straight.

“Oh, you know, with Miguel and everything,” Pavitr said as he twiddled his thumbs. “Actually, maybe not! I’m sure Miguel isn’t that obsessed about all of this.”

Just after his voice dropped, a portal emerged from behind where Miles stood. The second he noticed the faint glow flashing over his shadow, he jumped away to stand with the newcomers he was still wrecking his brain to familiarize himself with. You stared at the portal with wide eyes. Not once in your life have you seen technology like this, and when you glanced over at the others, you could see a certain dread on their face that peaked your heart rate. What got a bunch of Spider-people so agitated? It must be a real threat.

“Won’t you look at that,” Miguel appeared from the portal, his eyes looking as dead as usual. Following behind him were Jessica and Ben. “The whole gang is here.”

"How did you even find us?" Peter exclaimed in annoyance.

"Your watch, obviously." Miguel pointed at Peter's chest. "Your daughter took it.”

Peter gasped as he looked down at Mayday. He didn't notice it before, but sitting loosely around her wrist was the watch Miguel gave him that he took off before Gwen came to find him. He squeezed his eyes shut—shame on him for letting the same thing happen twice, even though neither was technically his fault.

Hobie breathed out a chuckle at Mayday before he elbowed Pavitr. “Do whatever you want, but I’m telling ya, you got to watch out for the things you say. You’re gonna jinx up the whole place like this.” Bringing his leg up so he could march over to Miles and stand behind him, he bent forward until his face was within Miles's earshot. "I suggest you run home now."

"What? Why?" Miles whispered, stepping away from the proximity. His attention shifted when Peter's obnoxious voice rang through the air.

"Jesus, Miguel! What do you want now?"

"The same thing you all want," Miguel said as he rubbed his wrist. He snapped his head over at Miles, who gulped when his gaze averted to look at you. He stared for a bit too long. "People who are not supposed to be here."

You. That man was talking about you. Miles didn't know what business he had. If anything, he thought himself a much bigger threat. But Miguel was looking at you when he spoke, so it must be.

He bolted the second he made that conclusion. He would deal with it if he later discovered he had come to the wrong one. For now, with the warning from a man whose words he could barely understand and a bunch of context clues he haphazardly strung together on the fly, he was unwilling to take any risk that would make him lose you. Wrapping his arms around your body to hold you into a hug rather than a carry, he instructed you to hang tight and took a few bold steps backward to the skyscraper edge so he could drop off its height.

"Wait, hold on, Miguel!" Peter shot his arm out to squeeze Miguel's shoulder when he saw that Miles would be followed. "You're after the wr–"

"Peter!" Gwen shot out a web aimed at Peter's back and immediately pulled him away from Miguel, preventing the man from telling the truth. Taking the slipping chance, the three slipped past in pursuit of you and Miles.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked incredulously, his eyes following the fading backs of his once colleagues.

Pavitr and Hobie approached them to catch up on their conversation.

"Let Miguel chase him," she said sternly, her eyes fixated on Peter. "It works in our favor that he is occupied with the wrong Miles. It buys us some time to find our Miles."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no thoughts leaked out. Gwen's logic was sweet and sound. It would make everything so much easier for them if Miguel was temporarily out of the picture. But there was a pierce he felt, through his supposed moral compass, not at the blatant lie of omission he has to tell but at the fact that he would willingly send a grown man after two children, one of whom was just an ordinary civilian.

"Gwen, I don't feel like that's the right thing to do," he sighed.

"Maybe we can try to help both of them?" Pavitr suggested. "We can find Miles as fast as we can and then help the other Miles."

"They won't last," Peter said. "I don't know if that Miles has superpowers, but he's definitely not like us. I don't think their friend is capable of anything, either. Miguel will get to them before we can be done."

"You're saying if we want to help, we ought to do it now," Hobie sniffed.

"That's what I just said."

"I know. I was just repeatin' it."

"We can't afford to be distracted!" Gwen argued, her tone releasing from being firm to a pathetic, exasperated plead. "Don't forget, you're the one who exposed Miles's location in the first place. And now you've exposed ours!"

"Woah–Gwendy, calm down," Hobie said with a light pat on her shoulder. He spun to face Peter, humming at his distraught expression, then turned to meet in a general direction. "We're wasting an awful lotta time arguing about nothing. How about we get a move on, yeah? Pavitr's plan might work if we go now.”

"Yeah! I agree!" Pavitr clapped in agreement. “We just need to go in quick and come out even quicker!"

“That made no sense,” Peter mumbled.

“Maybe not to you.” Hobie shrugged.

“Focus, you guys!” Gwen hollered over the wind, catching everyone’s attention. She pursed her lips, her mind filled with a singular goal: save Miles Morales. “I’m going regardless of what you say," she said as she stepped to the edge of the skyscraper. Before she tipped over, she added, "I'm gonna save my Miles."

"Dramatic," Hobie chuckled with big strides forward, seemingly to follow after Gwen. "Better catch up, lads." He clicked his tongue confidently and mocked a salute as he fell off the edge.

Miles was on the run. You already knew, but that fact punched you in the guts with even more velocity when you realized how quickly your surroundings were passing through. He was no longer holding you in an embrace-like position. After he made it down the skyscraper, Miles hoisted your upper body over his shoulder with his arms circled around your waist so he could better run at his regular speed, which you learned was abnormally fast, much different than the speed he picked when he was strolling around the area.

Closing up behind you was a man in a Spider suit furiously galloping on all fours. You didn't even know they ran like that. You thought all Spider-people swung with their webs. Running like this may be faster than swinging around. Or perhaps the man's sheer will to catch the two of you amped up his speed. The only reason why Miles was able to periodically distance from Miguel was that he knew this Brooklyn like the back of his palm; all the detours and shortcuts were mapped in his brain, and he knew how to properly mix and match their usage.

"Miles, he's crazy," you whispered, clutching his shoulders. "He's running like a wolf."

"Tu puta madre–" he spared a glance back and widened his eyes–"why is he chasing us? What did we even do?"

Hopping off a building and into an alleyway, Miles slipped to the side and hid behind a wall. He pressed his back against the concrete wall to hide behind the shadow.

The more he ran, the more he saw how it only delayed the consequence of getting caught. He could run home as suggested, but bringing trouble directly to his mother wasn’t ideal. On top of that, it may expose his prowler identity, which was the last thing he wanted. He could keep running, but eventually, he would get tired. He wouldn’t overestimate his ability to escape; a man that size running on all fours has the kind of stamina he could not rival. He had to fight with gimmicks to win, and his first option was to hide.

Taking the time to reposition you on his shoulder, apologizing with amusement when you shivered at his hands gliding past your hips to your waist, Miles carefully placed you back on the ground. When your feet hit the ground, he reached for the crown of your head, squeezing your head and trailing both hands down to your face. He pushed your face together, forcing you to pucker your lips. This was supposed to be a fun night. He felt terrible that this was how things led to.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

For the time being, you felt like you could be. His hands were warm, and his touch even warmer.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” You smiled bitterly once he let go of your face. “He’s here for me, but I don’t know why.”

You haven’t done anything. Even arriving on this Earth was not a purposeful doing. You made no significant changes to this Brooklyn; even if you tried to, you would not have succeeded. You regularly lived as you would have in the universe you came from; staying at home, doing house chores, learning how to cook, getting groceries, watching movies, maintaining a good friendship, and falling in love. None of those were criminal activities! You have done nothing remarkable for a random Spiderman to get so upset with you!

“Be honest, [Name],” Miles started, touching your shoulders. He took a deep breath before squinting. “Are you secretly a world-class criminal?”

“If jumping universes is a crime, then–“ You hummed thoughtfully before shaking your head in disagreement. “Yeah, no. I’d just be a regular criminal because I only jumped once, and it’s by accident, too.”

“Actually, I never asked, but how did you get here?”

You suppressed a burst of laughter. “Are we seriously gonna talk about this now?”

“My bad,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “is now a bad time?”

“A super bad–“ You screamed when a figure abruptly slid upside down beside you. Instinctively, the hand initially reaching for Miles’s face deflected from its path to punch the intruder in the face.

Ben swung slightly on his web, a curse pushed out of his mouth at the impact of your fist. He hadn’t registered you to be a big enough threat that he failed to block your sudden attack. If it had been Miles’s gloved claws swinging at him, he likely would have reacted. Miles smirked, almost feeling a sense of pride at the sheer strength of your punch. While you profusely apologized for doing something you didn’t mean to do, he grabbed your hand and ran down the alleyway. Mid-way through, he tugged harshly at your arm to bring you in front of him so he could scoop you up as he picked up his speed.

“I can actually run pretty fast,” you complained lightheartedly.

“For sure, baby,” he mused, his feet screeching for an abrupt right turn when he heard Ben’s voice calling after you both.

However, just as he turned a corner, he was met with the wheel end of a motorcycle. Miles raised a hand up to grip the spinning tire. Before he could dig his claws through the material and pop it, he felt himself being pushed back by the heavy force, so he, tensing his arm muscles, attempted to deter the bike's path before the millisecond of him getting thrown back. His back hit a brick wall, knocking his senses everywhere for a brief moment as he haphazardly reached to cover your head. When he looked up, he was only met with the yellow shades of a woman in red. He huffed; if there was any indication that these people were getting fed up, it would be hitting him with a motorcycle.

“Jessica. You caught them!” Ben exclaimed as he emerged from the shadow, a hand massaging his chin that was pulled into a sneer. His voice was weirdly raspy as if he was playing up a character. “That stupid kid punched me. How dare they.”

“You showed up out of nowhere!” you retorted with an accusing finger pointed at him. “Also, shouldn’t you be able to block my punch? You’re Spiderman! You can’t block a punch from a teenager?”

“This kid is talking back to me. I feel a little distraught. I don’t know how to talk to children.”

“Shut up, Ben.” Jessica waved her hand before she turned to you both. She observed as Miles hopped back to his feet and glared at her. You looked less menacing, but your furrowed brows spoke caution and ready disobedience. She sighed. Another pair of moody teenagers. Miguel would not be happy about this. “Look, we don’t have time for this. You need to go back to where you belong.”

You pursed your lips in dismay and shook your head. Miles pushed you toward him when you circled your arms around his neck, and you slightly averted your gaze from the woman to avoid confrontation. Jessica squinted her eyes at the way you two held each other, a sudden inkling developing that she desperately wished to be wrong—you fell in love with someone from a different universe. She already felt bad enough about what had to be done to Gwen. There was no wrong in sticking to what she believed in. It was just unfortunate that she had to treat teenagers mercilessly to do so.

“You two can write letters to each other,” she said after gathering her thoughts and reverting to professionalism. Her job was to return all anomalies to their world, not limited to villains. Getting off her motorcycle, she slowly walked over to Miles, who didn’t get the sense of running away because of her regular speed. When she was within an arm’s length, she grabbed your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“No!” you refused and tried to shove her off, but she was persistent.

“Dude, stop!” Miles attempted to step out of reach.

“Dude?” Jessica repeated with wide eyes. “Your mama taught you no manners?”

“His mom is great!” you exclaimed as you snatched your arm away from her grip. Your irritated eyes turned into a glare.

Miles nodded. “Yeah, she doesn’t throw a motorcycle at people’s faces.”

“Okay, I’ve had it.” Jessica laughed in disbelief. “I was trying to be nice, but that’s out the window now.”

Deciding to ignore her harsh tugs at your arm, you resorted to making sure you never let go of Miles instead. You intertwined your fingers that met at a point of his neck and buried your face to his shoulders, tuning out the world. Fear lingered in your chest like a haunting ghost, and it dimmed somewhat when you zeroed in on the feeling of Miles’s grip on your body. You were still here. He was still with you, holding onto you with a death grip. And you thought this might resolve itself eventually. Maybe these people would let you go if you two struggled enough together. Or perhaps it wouldn’t end well, but at least you held on as best as possible. At least you tried.

“Miles Morales.” Everyone paused to look behind Jessica’s shoulder. Miguel stood tall and alarmingly brutal just a few feet away. His dead eyes shifted from the boy to you, and he tipped his head into a brief greeting. “And you.”

Jessica took a deep breath; the real threat finally showed up. She released her hand from your arm and turned to face Miguel. There was something she wanted to say, not to deter Miguel from his plan to take you back to your Earth, but rather a few trying words to prevent him from executing any more brutality, especially when you were as harmless as a dove. The last thing Miguel should have on his conscience was inflicting injuries on a regular civilian. It would be good for him in the long run. Before she could open her mouth to speak, though, Miles buckled his knees and jumped up high. He was making a run for it again, but before his feet even touched the top of the wall separating the streets, his body barely turning away from anyone, a red string caught onto your wrist and snapped you out of his arms.

“¡Mierda!”

He caught onto your ankles, engaging in a tug-of-war with Miguel that did nothing but put a strain on your limbs. Clicking his tongue, he gave one final hard tug at your feet before letting you go. You screamed, your body swinging toward Miguel at full speed while Miles, fully utilizing his boots, ran to sneak up behind the man and shoved him forward so Miguel would collide with your flinging body. Letting Miguel stumble in confusion and, out of instinct, reaching his arms out to catch you from a hard fall, Miles jumped forward and did the job for him. He secured you in his arms, wasting no time to bolt away. But Miguel was phenomenally quick to regain his senses, and his eyes glowed a bright red once he realized how difficult Miles was being.

He leaped forward, fangs and claws out to grab Miles by the back of his neck. As he swung the boy around, you dropped to the floor and knocked your forehead against the dirt. Miguel slammed Miles into the closest wall, denting the red bricks. He squeezes the poor boy's neck, not entirely cutting the air out of his system but suffocating just enough to make Miles feel outrageously uncomfortable.

"Ay, would you stop that, big man? You're gonna kill the kid!"

White webs shot out and attached to each of Miguel's wrists. He could recognize that godforsaken voice anywhere—Hobie Brown. Noticing the webs on his wrists, he groaned lowly in irritation. He might just snap (if he hasn't already, this madman) if he has to come across one more obstacle. Not allowing Hobie a second to pull him away, Miguel squeezed Miles's neck tighter to pull him out of the dented wall and threw him across the alleyway to the other side. The collision collapsed a hole through the bricks, creating an unnecessary ruckus.

"Now you've gone and done it," Hobie muttered, looking at the destruction.

Your jaw dropped anxiously. You could faintly see Miles under the debris, showing no signs of getting up. He couldn't have died. Not only would that become a personal problem, you simply refused to believe a childhood superhero figure would kill someone you know and love. Scrambling to your feet with quickened breath, you took a weak step forward, his name hanging quietly at the tip of your tongue. When he didn't respond still, you tried to run towards him only to be pulled back at your wrist.

You looked behind your shoulder to find Miguel facing away from you. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost bone-breaking, to serve a warning. The same portal you saw him arrive in opened up, creating a gust of unnatural wind, and he was pulling you toward it. You attempted to break away, but he was much stronger. Nobody around seemed to be able to help you, not even Punk-looking Spiderman, so the only thing left to do was to hyperventilate for sympathy. This felt like an impending doom, where doom was actually just a few steps away on the other side of a portal.

"Wait, please don't do this. I don't want to go home. I want to stay here!" you cried, a migraine developing from how you kept turning back and forth to look at Miguel and Miles. "Why are you doing this to me? Please stop, please!"

Sympathy rested in the hands of those who couldn't help. Miguel was as stoic as a rock to your pleads, and you somehow expected him to be. It was just heartbreaking to be proven right how difficult things could get. You kept sucking in deep breaths and forgetting to release them, causing your chest to expand awkwardly. You didn't know what to do, but you've got to try something! Anything!

"Wait–I haven't said it! I haven't–" a deep breath–"I haven't said goodbye! I haven't said I love you! Let me say goodbye, and I promise–" another deep breath–"I promise I'll leave with you. Please. I promise, I cross my heart."

Miguel paused, and that mere action took everyone aback. He pursed his lips, a flicker of remorseful nostalgia showing in his eyes as he recalled the sudden death of his daughter. You didn't remind him of himself, but your wish was similar to what he would have asked for if he ever could re-experience the tragedy—he would want to say goodbye. He would like to tell his daughter he loved her. Heaving a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. At least you were cooperative; he felt he could be kinder in this case.

"Do not try anything stupid."

Once Miguel released your hand, you ran and fell on your knees next to Miles. Pushing the debris off his body, you scooped him onto your lap and caressed his face. Sniffing away a tearful voice, your voice ended croaking anyway when you called his name, "Miles?"

He opened his eyes meekly to see doubles. It took him a good minute to concentrate on your face, and he smirked when he did. The first instinct to take you and run away was defeated by a pained back and exhausted legs. He would not overestimate his ability, even through immense desperation. He wouldn’t get both of you far enough to not get served something worse. This appeared to be it.

”Mi cariño. Hey."

You laughed; you still had no idea what that meant. Miles refused to tell you, and he also got his mom in on it. But you figured it was a term of endearment. Miles took off his gloves to hold your hand, pressing your palm to his face as he stared at you. Somehow, he couldn't muster up the courage to cry despite the continuous drops in his chest. It could be a pride issue, or he didn't want you to see him suffer in your last minute together. Last for now, at least.

"You're going to leave me," he acknowledged.

"Not on purpose," you replied.

“I know,” he hummed. “You love me too much to do that.”

He had thought about it before. There must be people you were dying to go back to in your world. Not a classmate, no. Not even a friend. But a parent, perhaps? Family members? A pet, certainly? There has to be something waiting for you back in your home. There was no method for you to jump universes yet, but Miles figured if you were raging to go home, it would show. The fact that you blended into his life so casually and permanently, to a point where you memorized his schedules and knew where little trinkets were located in his apartment, told him you chose him over the life you used to have. Every day you woke up, you preferred a life with him in it rather than what you had before.

“You do love me, right?” Miles asked for assurance, his brows furrowing. “I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You squeezed his cheeks—gentle palms over bloodied skin, gentle palms over gentle skin. No more violence, not more crimes. He was but a boy you loved. He doubts your affection, and you would go home with him burned in the back of your head, finding his touch trapped beneath your flesh once stripped naked. From a universe away, Miles was all you would remember. Smiling, you peppered kisses over his brows, his eyes, his nose, and finally his mouth. When you pressed your forehead against his, you scrunched your nose and nodded.

“I do love you, Miles.”

“Yay, score.” He chuckled, then his voice quieted down to a low hum only meant for you to hear. “I love you too, okay? Aqui y allá, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Time to go, kid!”

You smacked your lips and puffed an exhale. Running your knuckles down the side of Miles’s face, you nodded to yourself as an encouragement to get on your feet. Your feet budged, then your knees, but instead of standing up, you only shrunk your body closer toward Miles. You willed your voice to say a farewell, but it couldn’t under the threat that this goodbye would be your absolute last one, so you cried instead. Fat tears silently rolled down your chin, caught on your tongue, and forced you to choke on them.

Jessica rubbed her eyes as soon as her voice dropped. She shouldn’t have let Miguel talk her into breaking the moment. Instead of moving, you only leaned your body down and pressed Miles to your chest, hugging him. A passive protest, perhaps. You were not directly struggling but weren’t listening to them, either. She eyed Miguel when he sighed in defeat. He wondered which one was worse—chasing a rebellious kid with Spiderman powers or this. This one sure made him feel like the bad guy if anything.

He reached for a portable trap box and threw it toward you without hesitation. Before it could reach you, though, a web shot out and pulled it backward, causing the gadget hit Miguel in the face.

“You need to reconsider your morals,” Hobie said in a scolding tone as he walked up from behind everyone. “Trapping a kid in a box. Are you mental?”

He has been watching everything unfold from the shadows, and clearly, he realized the differences in how he saw you and how the other three saw you. Your lack of cooperation was a sign of rebellion, which could be considered so to a certain degree. But Hobie knew to consider other factors; he looked at the bigger picture. There was nothing you could do here, literally. One web shoot and you’d be caught, and you probably already knew that. Your so-called sign of rebellion was less chosen and more forced by the hands of emotional turmoil. You were about to be separated from the boy you were in love with. It would make sense that you were physically unable to be the person to walk away.

If you were going to leave Miles Morales, you must be taken and nothing else. You stood by not leaving him intentionally. Miguel was going to do that for you, but Hobie decided to take a much gentler approach. Trapping you in a box when you’ve done nothing wrong was, as he said, fucking mental.

“Don’t struggle, yeah? It makes me uncomfortable,” Hobie muttered as he reached for your waist and pulled you up. He slapped his hands on your shoulders dramatically and turned you around. “The portal is gonna feel doozy. You might vomit. If you feel like you’ll vomit, do it when we arrive at HQ. Preferably all over the floor. Just splatter it around like a sprinkler.”

“Huh…?” You did a double-take at what he said. “That’s disgusting.”

“Vomiting? Yeah. Vomiting on an establishment?” He hummed and tilted his head. “Debatable.”

“I’m sorry, but I really am having a hard time understanding you, Spiderman,” you said, your sobs increasing because you thought Hobie might take it as an insult.

“Why are you apologizing? You haven’t said anything you shouldn’t,” he said, the panic in his voice unnoticeable. “Also, call me Hobie, not Spiderman.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed your eyes as if to produce more tears, “I know that’s your name. I just didn’t use it because we’re not close.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hobie mused, a hand slipping from the top of your head as a makeshift pat. “I’m more friends with you than those three over there.”

You let the faintest giggle of disbelief escape your lips and turned back to Miles. Hobie continued to pull you away from the floor and toward the portal, not taking a moment’s rest. You didn’t struggle against him; eventually, your hand slipped from Miles’s.

#no because i can't believe i actually gone through with this #miles morales imagine #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff

432 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 10 months

Text

Dr. Munson & The Monster

mad scientist!Eddie x The Monster x fem!Reader

Based on a sweet ask I got about how Reader's boyfriend cheats on us, and then we get revenge with his dad. I'm sure this was not what they had in mind 👀 my apologies. wc: 1.7k

18+Only, mature content, smut, cheating, mention of monster sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), creampie, breeding!kink, mention of being forced to live at the castle, mention of male impotence. Frankie and Reader are 25+, doctor!Eddie is 40+.

Things with you and your boyfriend Frankie were complicated. When he first put you over his shoulder and carried you back to the castle, determined to be your mate, you wondered if it would work out. But, you’d grown to love that zipper-neck lothario, and the enormous cock attached to him. Munson’s Monster was famous by that time for being the first reanimated human, and he had so many women throwing their panties at him, it was intimidating for you at first.

“Baby, where are you going?” You called to him from the bed where you were in one of your sexiest nightgowns, draped perfectly to expose the curve of your hip that drove him bonkers.

“Out!” But he didn’t actually say it, he just grunted it, stomping off toward the balcony on stiff legs. He liked to use the thick vines on the side of the building to climb down.

He flung the terrace doors wide open, and you watched him make his clumsy descent with a shake of your head. “You’ll break your neck again one of these days, you know that baby? Just use the front door next time!”

He was too busy banking on his arm strength to hold his substantial weight to look up at you, but he did offer a growl and a grunt, and by the time he dropped to the ground in a crouch, there were tears glistening on your lash line.

The first few months together had been so rich with discovery and the promise of new love. Frankie mated you from sunup to sundown, stretching you out and chasing his release with animalistic passion, the likes of which you’d never experienced before. After a few weeks, you were confessing your love; there was even talk of planning an October wedding.

But, the honeymoon phase was over, as they say, and word had made its way back to you that Frankie was getting in bed with every village woman within arms reach. They all snickered and laughed behind your back when they saw you in town.

You watched him stumble into the night, and then you peeled yourself away from the balcony and wiped your eyes.

You didn’t want to be alone again. The only people who lived in the castle besides you and Frankie were Dr. Munson, his assistant Igor, and a housekeeper named Frau Blucher. You put your silky robe on and brought a candelabra downstairs with you, following the golden glow of light coming from under the door of Dr. Munson’s library.

You knocked first, because he was a very private man, and you were paranoid that he hated you for whatever reason. Maybe he didn’t think you were good enough for his creation?

“Enter,” a gruff voice bellowed from inside.

Edward Munson, brilliant surgeon and mad scientist, was hunched over his desk, fingers flying from inkwell to paper as he scribbled notes in his journal. Long, dark curly hair wild around his shoulders, with a touch of gray at the sides, and fingertips stained black from the ink.

“What do you want?” He grumbled, never looking up from the paper.

He knew it was you. He recognized the way your footsteps sounded on the floor above, the cadence of your knock, the way his heart jumped into his throat whenever you were near.

You shut the door behind you, pushing it until it clicked. A cozy fire roared in the hearth, the air smelled of old books, pipe tobacco, and leather. You intertwined your fingers in front of you and went to take a seat by the fire.

Eddie finally glanced up, your silence making him curious. That was when he saw your puffy face and the tears in your bloodshot eyes. The horrible way his “son” treated you was no secret among the house, and sometimes his thoughts found their way to wondering how it would’ve worked out if he’d found you first, and not Frankie.

With the pen still in his hand, he sat back in his seat. “I’m sorry this keeps happening. You deserve much better than this.”

You snapped a look at him. He was always so grumpy with you, this was the first time he’d ever offered you any semblance of comfort.

The nightgown under your robe was so tight to your skin that he could see the outline of your breasts and the way you weren’t wearing any undergarments. He cast his eyes back down at his desk, ashamed for even allowing himself to dream.

Pausing in the middle of the room, on your way to the couch by the fire, you were struck with a sudden epiphany: Dr. Munson was attracted to you. How had you never noticed it previously? The way the light from the fire danced on his skin, making his dark eyes sparkle.

Driven by loneliness and a sudden, rabid burst of horny, you slinked over to the big oak desk, hitching your ample hip out to rest it at the edge. The muscles in Eddie’s jaw flexed, eyes anchoring to yours, refusing to let them roam your body like they wanted to.

“What do you want from me?” His tone was tight, his cock twitching in his pants at how close you were. “You should go back to your room.”

What you wanted was to get back at your neglectful, cheating boyfriend. He got to have his fun several nights a week with whoever he wanted. Why couldn’t you have the same?

You came around the desk to be closer, now your leg was touching his. You let your hand graze up along your inner thigh over your nightgown, lips parted as you watched him from under hooded eyes. “I want you to touch me, doctor.”

Dr. Munson hasn’t been with a woman intimately for years. Mostly because he was a recluse who had no patience for the small talk required for getting to know someone, but also—he’d been harboring a secret crush on you since that first day Frankie brought you home.

His eyes flicked from the outline of your cunt to your face. “Show me,” he told you, pushing the sleeves up on his shirt.

Eager to please him, you ran your hands up your thighs to shimmy the silky skirt up around your hips, giving him the perfect view of your kitten.

Eddie’s mouth went dry at the sight, his brows knitting together. He inched forward to brace one hand on your thigh while the other worked a finger along your slit, hissing at your wetness. You yanked down the front of your nightgown to play with your nipples.

“Get on the desk,” he demanded, unbuttoning his shirt.

You had your knees bent, feet on his shoulders, quivering as his fingers spread you, his tongue seeking out the special nub that Frankie could never find. The scientist that he was, he had studied a woman’s anatomy extensively, and wanted to use his gathered knowledge to please you.

“Your mouth feels so good, doctor,” you whimpered.

He pulled away, chin dripping with a mix of saliva and your arousal, and then he worked a finger down, slipping in one, two, and then three. You were all the way back on the desk now, knocking things over as you writhed, spilling the inkwell.

He got to his feet, pushing his pants down to expose a generous pink length. You propped on your elbows to lick your lips and watch as he rubbed the tip along your slit with a groan, frowning in concentration.

“Is this what you want?” He mumbled, pulling open your lips to watch how well you took his tip.

You sat up to meet his mouth, fingers clawing into his crazy hair as you forced his lips open with your tongue. “I want you to give me a baby,” you begged. You found each other's eyes then, hovering on the implication of what was being asked. “Because we know Frankie can’t.”

It was true. As much of a medical miracle and scientific treasure Frankie was, Dr. Munson suspected his sperm was no longer viable. Sometimes he blamed his skill as a surgeon for how Frankie had turned out, but he had to be gentle with himself—that brain Igor found for him was not the organ of an intellectual.

Locking eyes with you, he sank all the way in, filling you to the base at first thrust, making you both cry out. He cursed, bracing his hands on the desk for leverage to piston his hips against you. You held his face between your hands and matched his need with your tongue.

His deft fingers moved from working your nipple to your clit, watching you unravel before his eyes. It wasn’t until he felt your walls flutter around his cock and heard you whimper his name that he allowed his release.

He grunted, fingers digging into your soft hips. He hadn’t tended to himself in days, and so the potential for seeds to be planted deep in your womb was strong.

It took a while for him to finish pumping it all in, and then you stretched back on the huge desk, planting your feet, knees wide. Maintaining eye contact with him, you used your fingers to push his cum deeper inside of you, tilting your hips up, holding it there, and then rubbing the excess up through your folds, before bringing them to your mouth to suck.

He kissed your stomach and your breasts, up your throat, sticking his own fingers inside to keep any from leaking out. “Stay like this until I say you can go,” he mumbled against your mouth. “And when it starts to drip down your leg, I want you to remember who put it there.”

“Yes, doctor,” you whined, listening to the plop of the tiny ink droplets as they fell from the desk and collected in a puddle on the floor.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older eddie munson #doctor eddie munson #frankensteins monster #the monster

272 notes · View notes

sweethartlullaby · 6 months

Note

omg i loveeeed the cheating boyfriend scenario! so well written! please make a part 2 🥹🥹

word count: 1063 genre: angst this is part ii to the cheating boyfriend scenario!find part i here find part iii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist songs: too sad to dance - jeon jungkook

He’s stumbling a little too much and that means he has drunk too much. The bottle in his hand is slipping and he knows that he has to go to the bank if he wants some more.

It’s been three weeks now since you chased him away and he is still trying to live with his stupidity. He cannot believe he has lost you. He cannot believe he let you go. He spends his days at work, slaving away to avoid the single thought of you. And he usually spends his nights drinking alone at home, fixed in front of a screen playing a video game or a movie. He tends to avoid the latter, since all he has in his home are the ones you like.

He trips over his feet and laughter escapes him. The sloppy kind that makes it clear he is too wasted to be on his own. He throws the bottle down the street, hearing it crash against a lamppost.

How similar we are.

He keeps walking, tripping over his steps every now and then and having to hold onto door handles, lampposts, and trash cans to gain his balance again. He finally stops when he sees it. The warm orange light pouring onto the streets, welcoming him inside.

The man goes in before he takes a look around. He doesn’t know how he got here but it must be fate. Whatever it is, he is too drunk too care. Everything sways around him as he staggers into a seat.

As he figured, there’s not a lot of people left. You two would often meet here, in the 24 hour library that the both of you call your home away from home. He lays down on his arms placed on the table and looks at the empty seat across him. If he squints, he can see you typing away on your laptop or writing in your book, murmuring things to yourself that only you understand.

He sighs and buries his face into the bend of his elbow. Why is he here? He isn’t supposed to be thinking of you. It hurts him too much.

He hates that he’s a shitty person. He hates that he cheated. He hates that he hurt you. If he can go back to change it all, he will. If he wakes up tomorrow and you’re next to him again, he’ll never let you go. But instead he’s here, crying across the seat you should be in, sobbing as quietly as possible because he’s scared that if he cries too loudly, he will not stop.

I miss you so much, damn it.

He wishes the alcohol was enough. He wishes that it can erase you. He wishes it can take him back. He wishes for so much. He wishes he can meet you and start over. He wishes that you were here to comfort him. He wishes that he wasn’t him. He wishes that he did better. He wishes that you got a better version of him.

He cannot count the amount of times he has cried for you in his bed, or the amount of times he has woken up startled, hoping he can feel your warmth. The amount of times he has murmured apologies in his sleep.

He closes his eyes and prays that you’re okay. He shuts them tight and hopes to rid himself of his sins.

And soon enough, he falls asleep.

He wakes with a backache and with blurry vision. Then he looks around to check where he has ended up this morning. He doesn’t remember anything from last night. After a stretch in his seat and a sigh, he reckons he probably smells like alcohol and dirt so he gets up to leave.

But something catches the corner of his eye and he sees a book. He must’ve been staring at it for too long because a worker calls out that someone had left that for him last night and told them it isn’t to be taken away from him.

The man opens the book and as soon as he reads the front page, he feels as if his head clears.

“Isn’t this the sweetest thing?” You show him an opened book and on the front was a message along with the title, ‘learning from your mistakes’.

“You weren’t one” He reads and he shrugs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, looking over the page fondly.

“Well, what if it’s stupid to forgive the person who made the mistake?” He asks, setting his book down then going to wrap his arms around you.

“Well you see…”

He doesn’t remember much of what you said. Fate and whatnot, all he knew was he didn’t ever have to worry about losing you because he would have never made a mistake like that.

He traces the lines written on the page and he feels like crying again. And this time it’s sober and raw and real nonetheless. His chest heaves up and down as he sobs onto the book.

He misses you so much that it aches inside of him. He cannot breathe through his tears and all he wants is to reach into the pages to go back to that moment. He wants to hear your voice again, telling him the exact words that are on this page.

It’s the only way he can learn to forgive himself. It’s the only way he can live on without hating himself and every fiber that he is made of. It’s the only way he doesn’t tear the skin that holds him together. He doesn’t know if you will ever forgive him. He doesn’t know if you will ever trust him again.

He knows he has to try; that this is a sign to do so. But he’s afraid that you will shut him out and that this is in vain. But love, love is often a shot in the dark. He can only walk through these steps with caution until you tell him that you’ll let him in again.

He brings the book home and he places it by his nightstand. Every night before bed, he looks at the words and he remembers you. He’s trying to not make it hurt anymore. He’s trying to be stronger for you.

And every night, he prays he will be that man for you.

a/n: AHHHHHHHHH MY FIRST ASKKKKK i was so excited when i saw this that i just had to write it immediately. please pardon any mistakes. i hope you enjoy this! i didn't want to write a makeup scene because i feel that it will be too fake but if that is something that you want please let me know!

199 notes · View notes

milky-aeons · 13 days

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆

౨ৎ . . . in which prince GOJO SATORU must keep quiet in lieu of his lover's surprise guests.

warnings: m!reader, prince!reader, aladdin!au, established relationship, swearing, bondage, gag-play, gag-speech, exhibitionism, mentions of marriage, sexual content, oral giving (m!reader), mdni, w.c 3.8k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ supernatural — ariana grande ꒱ ˎˊ-

The country of Agrabah boasted extreme temperatures at this time of year. Solace from the scorching rays could only be reached in shaded corners, at the banks of the River Jordan, or behind the walls of small settlements with their tarps pulled shut. There was never many citizens to see out on the cobbled streets at high noon.

But in this throne room, one of the many stray guards thought, a cold lick of sweat trickling down his back, one would not think they resided in the sunny Middle East. But, perhaps, an igloo in the Antarctic.

"You are showing improper manners when in the company of your Sultan, son and prince of mine."

"Eh, that so? Go tell someone who cares."

Chasing after those drawled words was a harsh pop when the prince cracked his neck. He rubbed the spot soothingly, then rolled his head the other way, hoping to do the same.

Every soldier lining the golden walls shared a wayward look. From high up on the platform with which he sat; the Sultan — His Majesty, the Ruler of these lands — twitched his eyebrow.

"Really. You do understand I could have your head right this moment. Delivered to me on a golden platter?" He hissed at his son. When there was no reaction from the troublesome prince, the Sultan's temper flared — he shot to his feet, red-faced, and barked, "Satoru!"

Prince Satoru grumbled at the shrill voice splitting the air. He sunk down deeper into the lounge, as if hoping it would swallow him whole and release him from whatever the hell this was meant to be.

"Oi, oi, old man," He griped, digging a finger into his ear. "You sure yellin' like that is good for you, right now? You could keel over at any second, ya'know?"

Metal clanged softly as each of the soldier's guard shifted to grip their sabres — their Sultan was livid; he was flushed and fuming and looked just about ready to mete out an execution warrant. For his own son. Their muscles tensed, nerves on fire. Because of course, they would obey anything and everything their Majesty ordered of them as sworn militants to his hand.

But everyone in Agrabah's fine Palace walls knew that fighting the Prince Gojo Satoru was a losing battle before it could even begin.

To their relief, the stout Sultan let out a long, grieved sigh, and sunk back down onto his perch.

"Must you make every conversation a task with you?" He grumbled, rubbing a beringed hand down his face.

Satoru's face stretched into a smile. "And lose the fun of riling you up? Not a chance."

Prince Satoru leaned up and bowed his body into a stretch. Decorative chains, golden pendants and all other jewellery this royal was adorned with clinked together through the movement. He collapsed onto the cushions once more. "So?" He moaned. "You didn't drag me all the way to the throne room just'a scold me. Whaddya want?"

"What I want," His father spat, emphasising the word like it was venom. "Is to talk about your nuptial duties you have been conveniently ignoring."

"Don't know what you're talkin' about." Satoru hummed. His eyes had wandered to the great furry beast that had taken interest to prowl his way. Striped and deadly — one of the many Palace pets butted his head into Satoru's palm when he held it out affectionately. "Neither does Rajah, actually." He added, gesturing to the massive tiger that had curled up at his feet.

A cool stare was all he was answered with. When the Sultan spoke again, it was dripping with impatience, "You may play the fool all you wish, boy, but the fact will always stand that you are to take this throne one day. And for that to be a smooth, successful transition, you must show unity. You must take a partner to make your ruler, alongside you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm already one step ahead of ya there" Satoru said. "I've already got my someone, don't I?"

"If who you refer to is that low-life prince you have been rolling in the sand with—"

"Oi." Satoru raised his voice. The single syllable carried the impact of a whipcrack. "Watch it, old man."

But the Sultan surged forward. "You can not possibly believe to take the throne with a prince from such a disgraceful family as your—!"

BANG!

The sound of the lounge chair hitting the floor jarred everyone in the throne room; even those most seasoned in battle gave a flinch. Rajah hissed and growled; one poor maiden had become so startled she let the palm leaf she had been using to fan her Majesty clatter to the stone tiles below.

Satoru stood to his unbelievable towering height. All the fine robes and silks he wore draped over his body exposed flesh that tightened in rage. He practically vibrated. And his eyes — how they blazed. A radiant blue fire that contested with droplet sapphires hanging draped around his waist.

He glared up at the Sultan, his voice like a winter storm, "Let another fucking word come out of your wrinkly mouth about him and see what happens. Go on. I dare ya."

Perilous silence fell and settled against everyone's shoulders. No one dared move — which emboldened Satoru to take a step forward, raising his chin in that brave gesture he always had since he was but a fledgling boy.

"That's what I thought. Now, why don't I make somethin' clear? When you finally cough one too many times and bite the dust — it will be me that sits up on that throne, and it will be him who stands by my side. It's gonna be him that all those civilians bow down to; who they marvel and respect. And not because of what family he was popped out of — but because he is just that fuckin' awesome. There's nothin' that's gonna change my mind. Either I take him to be my husband, or walk and leave your Palace empty and dusty. Do I make myself damn clear?"

Perhaps it was because he was too stunned at his son's gall that the Sultan refused to answer — his dark eyes wide and startled, his lips twitching with words but no sound. Or, perhaps it was because this ruler had realised something; that he was a fool. An oblivious fool for not noticing sooner how deep his heir's relationship stretched with the prince residing on the other side of the River Jordan, and what repercussions it was bound to have.

"Good." Satoru chirped when no one spoke a word, his expression suddenly sweet and silly. With one smooth movement did he twirl on his heel and sauntered right out of his father's throne room.

The grape was ripe and juicy as you popped it into your mouth, delighting in its tart sweetness spreading over your tongue. You smiled wide around your mouthful, grabbing another.

"Is the fruit to your liking, your Majesty?"

The question had come from the older, scarier gentleman of your guard who stood closest to you on the balcony. Of course, there was a specific reason he had asked that question — one that involved powerplay, that taught the young servant holding the fruits tray a lesson in subservience. You glanced over your shoulder to him, then to the little boy whose arms had begun to shake in poorly concealed terror.

You held the servant's watery eyes for one second, two. Then let a smile beam across your expression.

"Why, it's wonderful! I think it might be the best fruit of the season. And this young man here has prepared them quite well," A small yelp squeaked out of the boy when you swooped down to steal the platter from his hands — who knows what your guard would do if he dropped it. "Make sure his family are treated well for this, won't you?" You directed at your guard.

The solider stiffened to solute. "Yes, sir."

But you saw the stormy dissatisfaction that raced across his eyes — you must not be so soft-hearted to your servants, you could already hear him scolding you later that evening; when the sun had set and the walls no longer had ears — a strong prince does not give all his riches to commoners, he must bet on the winning piece that occupies the chess board.

The servant-boy looked unsure as to what to do with himself — his eyes flickering nervously from your face to the tray in your lap. Smiling, you leaned down from your perch on the stone balcony, and lay a soft hand on his shoulder.

"You may go now, boy. Tell your father you have done well, today."

An emotion that looked stuck between shock and elation contorted his tan skin — but he nodded feverously. And then ducked underneath your dozens of guards to race down the Palace halls.

"Such a sprightly little man." You chuckled, listening to the slapping of his sandals get quieter the further he got. "I think you were about to make him cry, Abdul."

"If he were a man," Your guard spoke in his characteristic monotone. "He would have no need for tears."

"But if he were a child?"

"Maybe you should listen to your stick-in-the-ass guard!" A voice shouted from somewhere down below. Familiar and fond; eliciting a thousand racing sparks flickering across your skin. "I'd hate to see ya overthrown by some crooks just 'cause you're such a softy, y'know~!"

Immediately, as if were almost instinctive at this point to follow his voice, you threw yourself over the edge of the balcony. And there he was — the absolute demon of a man — standing perched on the roof of one of your lower palace buildings. Prince Gojo Satoru had a hand shielding his eyes from the sun — but even from all the way up here, you felt them against your skin — you felt the promise and the intensity and the love he always held in them.

You mirrored his wicked grin — although no where near its dazzling mischievousness.

"Well, you are on the wrong side of the River Jordan!" You yelled down to him. "This is a surprise. Surely a prince such as yourself would not notice a part of his concubine missing if I were to disappear, now would you?"

Satoru did not say anything in response to your tease. Instead, he dropped his hand and positioned them on the stones of your Palace walls. His shoulder muscles tensed and bunched when he lifted his body weight to climb — brick by brick, rock by rock, until his pale fingers curled around the lip of your balcony's edge.

He heaved himself up in one rush — so strong, so Satoru — until he could surge up and collide his lips with your surprised ones.

"Don't say shit like that." He rasped when you broke free, intending to greet him properly — but Satoru just placed a large hand to the back of your head and pulled you in, again.

His kiss was not punishing — but it was fuelled by something; a simmering emotion hiding behind the surface of his princely mask. You hummed into his mouth, accommodating him by twining your fingers into his soft hair, but you gasped when he tilted his head and deepened your kiss into one that was a lot more hot, a lot more needy and desperate.

You waved your guard away mindlessly when Satoru climbed over the balcony — still keeping your lips locked. He was like a bull on a one-track mission, a beast ready to devour you. He did not give you but a moment to breathe. He clawed at your short tufts of hair so he tilted your head back; delving his tongue deep and thick into your mouth.

You could not help the moan that tore up your throat at his relentless pursuit, feeling his hands roving down your broad back, the fabrics on your waist. When he reached around to grip your ass, you gasped, breaking his insistent kiss. Satoru was not deterred; he buried his face into the crook of your neck and suckled softly and your sensitive skin — grinding your bodies together.

"You—ah!" You gripped at his muscular shoulders for balance as he found your sweet spot just below your ear — and attacked with hungry need. "Your shoulders are tense, my love. Another... run in with your father? Or are you just aching to have me?"

The ferocious growl that rumbled through his chest was all the answer you needed. "Both." He heaved, resurfacing to look at you. And oh, how you would never get used to the beauty of him. Even when he was wearing a grumpy frown and had his eyebrows knit. He tilted his large body forward so as to touch your forehead with his. "Fuckin' geezer. Pisses me off."

You ran soothing paths up and down his bare arms, trying to work some of the tension out of his muscles. Some part of you knew what had upset him so — for it had been the same yesterday, and the day before. Now that Prince Gojo Satoru was approaching his third decade, the Sultan had become increasingly persistent on pushing his marriage date forward and finding a suitable partner for him. And you — even with your princely title — had not won his father's favour.

"It may not be so bad," You whispered quietly as you both shared breath. "I could still be part of your concubine. You would have me and make your father happy, still."

Satoru was still for a moment — those moonlight lashes so divine fanned across his cheeks. Then, he shook his head slowly. He leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss — lingering, so he could whisper the words, "Nah. I want more than that. I wanna put a crown on your head."

His kisses resumed; but they were lighter and less pent up. They made you giggle. You backtracked until both of you stumbled into the cashmere curtains of your balcony doorway. It was then that you turned and intertwined his fingers in his, leading him down one of the expansive Palace hallways.

"Come, then," You whispered, letting all of your sinful intentions bleed into the honey of your voice. Satoru's cock gave a near-painful twitch at that look in your eyes — the type that could tempt an angel into corruption. "Let me take your mind off of it."

Situations that left the Gojo Satoru caught off guard were few and far-between. He was a spontaneous guy — usually, it was him that was doing the catching off guard and the situation making.

But as he tugged experimentally at the rope bound around his wrists and connected to a particularly heavy cabinet, he wondered when you had gotten so creative.

"What books have you been readin', hm?" He asked you coyly. From your perch straddling the man against his tight waist, you leaned forward, spreading your hands teasingly against his pectorals. They flexed underneath you touch, making you smirk.

"Oh, you know; princely readings. Summaries of monthly trades, correspondence from other cities... have you been tending to your large pile of paperwork, actually?"

Satoru hummed, knowing you were teasing him. He was just about to fire back something equally as cheeky when you bore down on him — rubbing your ass against his straining cock. The air caught in his throat and he groaned, pulling instinctively at his restraints. You had also looped a snake of golden rope around his legs in intricately woven knots — holding him securely down to the ground.

"Does that feel good?" You purred, feeling how your own cock ached for some friction of its own. But not yet — this was all about his needs for the moment and taking his mind only to you.

Satoru's teeth gleamed through his growl. "Fuck. I hope ya don't like this dresser too much," He gave another tug on his binds. "Might break the leg off of it if ya keep this up."

"Oh, but I have a better idea."

It was in that moment that you produced a slip of silk from around your pants — a little bit too long for what you had in mind, but thick and sturdy enough to do a good job at it.

You positioned the sliver in front of Satoru's mouth — motioning to what you were about to do. The predatory gleam in his eyes told you he understood all too well, but just to be sure, you whispered, "May I?"

In response, Satoru opened his mouth to clamp down on the silk gag, then settled back onto the cushion and let you do the rest. And with slow, precise movements, you carded the silk through his white hair and secured it at the back — leaning away to marvel at your handiwork; the Prince Gojo Satoru, bound and gagged at your mercy for you to tease.

You chuckled, circling a finger around one of his taut nipples. "I think I like you like this."

"You gon'th lich me enogh, ahreaghy?" He spoke around the gag and gave a particularly punishing thrust of his hips upwards that you almost collapsed onto him.

But it was almost time.

You braced against his chest to leave a sweet kiss against his flushed cheek. "I will be back in one moment, my love." Your whisper fluttered against his skin — and then, you had lifted up off of him and disappeared behind the screen which shielded you both.

Satoru voiced in the form of a guttural groan how he felt about being left like this when you decided to tend to something else. He adjusted his tongue so that it sat comfortably behind the gag, he shifted his hips upwards, rocking them in a rhythm to try relieve even a modicum of pressure that was building up in his cock. His stiff erection tented his silks; it created a small damp spot where his tip leaked — ready and wanting. He grunted, exhaling a hot plume of air. How much longer did you expect him to wait?

A soft creaking permeated the air as two large doors were pulled open — finally. He was going to fuck you until you didn't know your own name. After, of course, you rode his cock with him bound like this. He needed you so gods-damned bad that it hurt—

"Welcome, welcome, my wonderful guests!"

The blood froze cold in Satoru's veins.

That was your voice — and not just your voice, but your formal one. The one you perfected for hosting dinner parties or parrying with diplomats during important business affairs. Satoru strained to listen; and sure enough, there came the impending patters of a dozen or so footsteps flooding into the room.

"Thank you for having us." Shoko Ieiri; Village Doctor, said in her dulcet voice.

"It's rather beautiful." One of the famed Palace Diplomats; Nanami Kento.

"It could use a few stuffed animals, I think." Yaga Masamichi — head Royal Tutor — clicked his tongue.

The voices of others floated through the air afterwards; all of which Prince Satoru recognised. Agrabah was not a large city, and those in the upper echelon kept very close to those with Royal blood. Kiyotaka Ijichi; Utahime Iori; Gakuganji Yoshinobu; among others — they all congregated in the Palace room where he was bound and gagged. Satoru's blood fled into his face and neck. He turned his head, listening for even the slightest step towards his hidden corner.

What the hell were you thinking?!

But as the din of conversation sparked and he was huddled here, trying to keep quiet, the adrenaline in Gojo Satoru's veins took on a different form. There was something exhilarating about being caught like this; him, a Prince in waiting for the Throne, and here he was in his most exposed form. He could hear you gliding around the floor, engaging your guests in light, cordial conversation like you had not been grinding on top of him moments before. The thought of it all — he found the blood rushing back to the head of his cock; now twitching, begging to be touched.

His whole body felt hot. It took an exercise in strength to not let out loud, heady pants as his body worked itself up to its own fever pitch. He was held so tight — he needed you, he needed you to ride him right now while everyone else was oblivious outside of the hidden screen door.

Then, your voice rose over the crowd, "Please, do make yourselves comfortable. There shall be drinks and delicacies on the way. I have been called away momentarily, as all Princes are, but do not worry — I shall return soon."

A gentle chorus of affirmations followed your announcement. There was the soft whisper of sandals against polished stone floors until they came right outside the hidden screen door. You were suddenly there, stepping into the small corner, locking eyes with your lover who looked both very happy and very cross to see you.

"Oh, you poor thing. Have I been neglecting you?" You cooed softly, coming down to kneel beside him.

Satoru's entire body was raw and flushed — there was a fine glisten of sweat that made his heaving chest glow. Your mouth dried out at the sight of him. He rounded his frustrated blue eyes on you in a tempered glare.

"Wth ah you thnkn?" Satoru growled around his gag.

You gave him a sly little grin. And then reached over to palm his pulsing erection. Satoru stuttered, and then knocked his head back, a full body shiver racing through his bones.

"My, my," You whispered, dipping underneath the silks damp from his sweat and holding him in your grip. His skin burned, the swollen tip of him wept pearls of white. You gathered it up on your thumb and pulsed down the shaft — working him quick and feverously. "You're so hard, my love. Do you like the stakes when they're so high? Does it turn you on so?"

Satoru's body was bucking in time with your hand movements, his hips thrusting savagely. You absolutely could not help yourself when you bowed down to take his girth into your mouth. The moan you let out was low, strangled — Satoru was tugging on his restraints so hard that your dresser gave a massive whine.

You lapped at him with greed. Tongue dancing down his length and then around his tip, loving how the movement made Satoru raise his entire torso upwards; needing to feel more of your mouth, wanting to hit the back of your throat and have you swallow every last drop of him.

Your hand lashed out to keep him steady when he came; hard and hot and so much spilling down your throat. Satoru turned to bury his head into the pillow, biting down to stop him from screaming with the pleasure of it. You resurfaced, licking your shining lips and swallowing — savouring the taste of him.

You were both heaving hard and heavy when you leaned over to place a loving kiss to his mouth.

"We better clean up, my Prince," You whispered on his lips. "There are guests for us to attend to."

✎ . . . requested by lovely @princeasimdiya12

WRITING REQUESTS

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #🎋 — writing requests #💓 — thump

67 notes · View notes

iridescent-petrichor · 1 year

Text

from strangers to friends, to strangers again

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Warnings: Y/N gets into a fight

Words: 2.8K

A/N: I just finished Outer Banks and this show has slowly taken over my life, so i may have to write more fics for JJ cause I love him so much omg

“JJ, it was an accident!” You insisted, following the boy as he stormed into the Chateau, trying not to pay any mind to the rest of the pogues who gave you a concerned look.

He didn’t respond, slamming the screen door behind him, nearly hitting you in the face with it. You jumped back, sighing before throwing the door open.

Curious beyond belief, the rest of the group followed you. The two of you were thick as thieves a mere twenty minutes ago when you went off to grab something from JJ’s house together. His dad wasn’t home, but you didn’t want to take any chances, standing firm on not letting him go alone.

His house was too cluttered, and while you were waiting for him to nab a beer or two out of the fridge on his way out, you stepped too far back and managed to knock a set of wind chimes off its hook, tensing when it crashed to the ground in about a million pieces.

JJ stopped, beer in hand and fridge door still open, staring down at the shattered windchimes for a long time before he kicked the door shut, shoving past you to get out of the house, almost leaving you behind in his haste to leave.

Now, you were still trying to chase him down, trying so desperately to get JJ to talk to you. He’d been silent the entire way back to the Chateau and seemed pretty content with avoiding you until the end of time over a simple mistake.

“Jesus Christ, JJ, I’ll fucking pay for it!” You called after him, falling silent when he finally stopped moving.

“You can’t just make everything go away with daddy’s money, Y/N.” His voice was firm, harsher than he’d ever spoken to you, still refusing to face you.

“I’m not saying that,” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m just saying-”

“No, you know what? Shut the fuck up.” He spun around, his words and the anger in his eyes making you freeze.

“JJ-” Kie’s voice came from the door, standing between John B and Pope.

“I fucking made that, Y/N! When I was a kid; that shit had actual sentimental value! You can’t just buy a fucking new one!” He raised his voice, ignoring Kie’s feeble attempt at intervening.

You stopped, shrinking in on yourself. “JJ, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry-”

“Of course you didn’t know! Cause you’re just a kook!” His words stung, like a needle shooting through your heart.

“JJ, I’m sorry-” You repeated, fighting back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“No, that was the last straw.” He lowered his voice, sounding eerily calm. “You’re not a pogue. You are not one of us. So stop fucking pretending you belong with us.”

You took a step back, mouth agape in shock. When he didn’t back down, you risked a glance at the others. They said nothing, instead avoiding your gaze.

Of course. They were JJ’s friends first, anyway. You could feel the bitter taste of betrayal in your mouth when you pushed past Pope to open the screen door, letting it slam behind you as you left.

A stinging feeling had settled deep into your chest, trying to push away the realization that it felt like something had just ended.

You made your way back to Figure Eight, feeling more alone than you’d ever felt in your life.

A little over a week had passed before your parents were trying everything to convince you to go to Midsummers. The previous couple of years you’d been able to skip out on it, going down to the docks to meet the pogues instead.

With no word from any of your friends since the fallout between you and JJ, your parents had been extra pushy about making you attend.

You sat alone in your room, writing out a text to JJ. It was carefully crafted, but once it was done, you gave it a long look and deleted it, throwing your phone on your bed.

It landed beside the dress your mom had laid out for you, along with a pair of matching heels. Their presence felt like it was mocking you, glaring up at you and reminding you how much you didn’t belong with your friends.

Fuck it.

Might as well play the part, right?

You changed into the dress, taming your hair to the best of your ability, grabbing your phone before you made your way to find your parents.

In a last-ditch effort, you checked your phone one last time, hoping beyond all odds that JJ would’ve reached out to say something. Anything.

No new notifications.

Cursing under your breath, you shoved your phone into a purse and left your bedroom.

Midsummers was just as boring as you knew it would be. You stood awkwardly at the outskirts of the party. Pope was working, stationed at the grill on the perfectly trimmed lawn, chatting with Kie. They looked so happy talking together that you had to blink back tears.

When you noticed a glass of something left unattended, you snagged it off the table it was left on, drinking whatever it was. The alcohol burned your throat, and you grimaced to yourself before setting the empty glass back down. It wasn’t enough to get you drunk, but hopefully it was enough to make Midsummers a little more survivable.

“Hey!” Sarah Cameron’s voice brought you out of your daze, giving the girl a smile. She was always nice, but you hadn’t really spoken to her much since Kie had such a vendetta against her.

“Hi,” You grinned, relieved that someone was actually talking to you.

“Surprised to see you here, I thought you hated these kinds of things!” Her smile was so genuine you couldn’t help but feel welcomed, half forgetting that this was the famed kook princess that Kie hated so much.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Well, didn’t really have anything else to do, so…”

You trailed off, now distracted by Kie laughing at whatever joke Pope made. Sarah followed your gaze, putting the pieces together and giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Listen, I’m gonna go dance with Wheezie for a bit, but I’ll be back! Enjoy yourself, drink, and have fun! Mingle!” She put her hands on your shoulders for a second before disappearing into the crowd, fitting in so well with the uptight rich assholes that you felt a tinge of jealousy.

Talking to Sarah did help your sour mood, however, and you were finally able to let yourself relax a little. You made small talk with a couple of people you didn’t really know, sneaking a couple more drinks when no one was actually paying attention to you.

It wasn’t until you saw a familiar head of blonde hair that your heart dropped.

There he was, dressed up all nice, dancing back-to-back with Sarah Cameron.

JJ fucking Maybank.

You froze, barely paying any mind when someone shoved past you, muttering about how you were standing in the way.

Since when were JJ and Sarah friends? More importantly, since when was Sarah not ‘too kook’ for him? Why would he cut you off but not her of all people?

Shaking your head, you downed your final drink of the night, hopping down the steps and pushing past the crowd, hoping to find somewhere quiet.

What you didn’t anticipate was the asshole you’d been strategically avoiding the whole night.

“Y/N!”

You stopped, slowly spinning around to face Rafe, tensing when you saw the lazy grin on his face.

“What do you want.” He chuckled, taking a dangerous step towards you.

“Just wanted to talk.” Rafe reeked of alcohol, and while you were by no means sober, he was clearly much further gone than you.

When he reached for your wrist, you snatched it out of his grasp.

“We can talk without you putting your hands on me.” You said, fighting to maintain eye contact with him. Admittedly, he intimidated the hell out of you, but you were too stubborn to show any signs of fear. JJ had once joked that people like him could smell fear on you. Still, you glanced towards the crowd behind him. You were far enough away that no one had begun to notice the tense conversation taking place.

Dramatically, he raised both of his hands in defense. “Don’t worry, I mean no harm. Just wondering why you’re here with us instead of slumming it with the pogues like usual. I mean,” He pointed vaguely to where Kie and Pope were standing, now with JJ who seemed to be telling a story. “None of them have even looked your way tonight. Don’t tell me you’re not even good enough for them?”

You bit your tongue, glaring Rafe down.

“What do you care?”

“Oh, I care plenty.” He leaned in uncomfortably close in a way that made you want to gag. “I mean, I’m just glad you got out of there while you still could.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to walk away. You’d entertained Rafe’s drunk bullshit long enough.

“I’m just saying!” He called after you. “Better to leave now before Maybank just turns into his dad, right?”

Crack.

The sound of your fist hitting Rafe’s jaw resounded through the crowd, with everyone in earshot turning to see what had happened.

He stumbled back, hand holding the side of his face.

“Keep his name out of your fucking mouth.” You said through gritted teeth, desperately trying to ignore the pain in your knuckles.

Rafe was quick to rally, regaining his balance and throwing a punch that knocked you off your feet.

You were never much of a fighter. In fact, you’d never actually been in a fight before.

Still, you persisted, stumbling to your feet and clenching your fists.

You raised your hand to hit him again, only to be met with another punch to the face. You barely managed to stay upright, only half aware of not only the crowd forming but the boy shoving his way to the front.

“Stop pretending to be one of us.” Rafe spit.

You didn’t respond, lunging at him in your determination to win the fight. Pushing him to the ground, you got one good hit in before he shoved you off of him, now hovering above you.

Before he could do any damage, he was thrown to the side, landing hard against the dirt. You could hear yelling, but you weren’t sure where the noise was actually coming from.

Someone dragged you off the ground, walking you away from the crowd with a firm grip on your arm. You tripped over your own feet before you could gather yourself, struggling to keep up with whoever was dragging you along.

Who was dragging you along?

You blinked, getting a good look at your savior.

JJ Maybank.

When you realized who he was, you tried to shake his hand off your arm, pulling away from him.

“I don’t need your help,” You muttered, turning to walk away once you managed to rip your arm out of his grip, only half sure of what direction you were heading in.

“Y/N, stop.” His was was more gentle than the last time you heard it, and it was almost enough to break you. When he put a hand on your shoulder, you shook it off.

“Get off of me,” The hurt from your fight was still burning in your chest. You took two steps away before the heels you were wearing caught you off balance, almost falling to the ground.

What a sight you must’ve been.

“Hey, I’m the medical expert here, let me help you.” You frowned at his statement, noticing the injuries on his own face. When you stopped, JJ wrapped an arm around you, soft enough that you could pull away if you really wanted to.

You didn’t.

Silently, he pulled you into the building, guiding you through the bathroom and into a locker room, carefully setting you down against the wall. The second you were out of his hands, he jumped up, checking every cabinet and drawer he could find, even running off into the bathroom to search for something, cursing under his breath at every empty drawer.

“Aha!” You heard from the next room, watching him run back in with a first aid kit in one hand and a wet rag in the other. “Here we are.”

He sat himself down in front of you, eyes softening at the injuries you sustained.

“This’ll sting.” He said, dabbing your face with the rag to clean off the blood.

You flinched, hissing when the water made contact with the cuts on your face. JJ apologized quietly, moving as gently as he could.

“So,” JJ started, carefully picking up your hand and cleaning the blood off your knuckles. “Why’d you do it?”

You shrugged, gaze falling down to watch JJ’s work on your hand. “He was being an asshole.”

“When is he not?” He laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh in a while. You didn’t realize how much you missed it.

“But seriously, you were always the one getting me out of fights, what did he say to make you throw the first punch?”

When you didn’t respond right away, JJ ran a thumb over your hand, coaxing you into speaking.

“Nothing that was true.” You really didn’t want to tell JJ what he’d said, half afraid he would internalize it and hate himself for it when he was alone at night.

“C’mon,” He set the rag down, opening the first aid kit, and grabbing neosporin, dabbing it on his finger and rubbing it over the cut that was on your cheekbone. “You can tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you meet his eyes. “He was just saying some shit about you ending up like your dad. Like I said, nothing true.”

JJ stilled, hand still resting on your cheek.

“You got into a fight with Rafe Cameron over me?”

You were surprised at how soft his voice was, a frown beginning to appear on his face.

“Of course I did. Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”

JJ swore he felt his heart break into pieces.

“Y/N…”

“Hey, I don’t wanna hear it, okay?” You cut him off, pushing yourself to your feet now that he was done cleaning you up. “I appreciate your help, but I don’t need your pity. You said it yourself, I’m not a pogue.”

You’d barely made it to the doorway before JJ’s hand caught your wrist. It was impossibly gentle, in a way someone like Rafe Cameron would never understand.

Slowly, you turned back to face him, gaze stuck to the ground as you prepared for another fight.

What surprised you, though, was JJ pulling you into a tight hug. It took you a moment to relax, but when you did, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. You buried your face into his neck, letting a couple tears fall.

When he heard you sniffle, he pulled away, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, cradling your face in his hands. “You’re absolutely one of us, you always will be. I wanted to reach out to you the second you left, I’m so sorry I never did. I should’ve said something.”

You didn’t say anything, letting your eyes flutter closed, basking in the feeling of being around JJ again.

“I think part of me was scared that you would actually be better off with the kooks. That after years of-” He stopped, his breath hitching.

You opened your eyes, giving him an expectant look.

“…That after years of loving you, you’d be better off without me.”

A beat passed.

“What?” You couldn’t stop the word from spilling from your lips.

He laughed nervously, his smile turning into more of a grimace. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“You… loved me?”

“Hey, I never said it was past tense.” You could tell he was nervous as all hell, tenderly grabbing his hand.

“JJ?” Reluctantly, he looks at you. “You’re an idiot.”

He laughed, the tension in his shoulders dropping when he saw the way you smiled. “Yeah, probably.”

You pulled him into another hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you too, J.”

“Thank god, cause I was not ready to lose you again.” When he pulled away again, he nodded towards the wall you were previously stationed at. “Now sit back down, I still have to bandage your battle wounds.”

The smile on his face made you realize everything was gonna be okay again.

It felt like a new beginning.

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader

653 notes · View notes

revasserium · 8 months

Text

a pantheon of ghosts

osamu dazai; 1.636 words; mostly fluff, with a tiny bit of suggestiveness in the middle but nothing explicit; normal dazai warnings apply but its cute i swear

there’s a notebook he keeps with the names and ages of every single person he’s ever killed.

it’s very kunikida-kun of him, yes, he knows. and when first he tells you, you’d blinked at the tremor like the first warning thrum of an earthquake behind the skyscrapers of his voice. and then, you smile and remind yourself that skyscrapers are nothing but a glass and metal and a foolish human defiance of gravity — you reach out your hand, palm up.

“so?”

“h…ha?”

dazai blinks.

“the book. where is it? i wanna see.”

he blinks again.

“a-ah! i don’t have it right now — you see — it’s in this bulletproof safe inside the last vault of a very fancy bank and i just… lost… the key…” his voice trails off as you quirk an eyebrow, your hand still outstretched.

the notebook, it turns out, is kept in a locked drawer in ranpo-san’s desk. safest place for it, dazai had claimed as he tugs out the tiny thing and hands it to you.

that night, he spends too many hours mapping your body with the silk and silver of his tongue.

later, after he has fulfilled himself of the cartography of you, you lie on your stomach, flipping through it’s pages.

you read out a name, and dazai tells you a thing about them —

“morimoto keisuke,” you say.

“ah — he was an office worker — skinny little guy, wife and two kids — sons… if i remember correctly —” and he always does, “he had a bad habit of gambling… shame he only ever bet on the losing horses…”

“miura tatsuya,” you say.

“oh yes! this one — young man, so beautiful that he’d often get stopped in the streets — a ton of agencies tried to scout him but… he liked to make his living crossdressing at night in kabukichou… i considered asking him to commit a double suicide with me, y’know — obviously, this was before i met you, darling — “

“tadakoro suzume,” you say.

“ah… she was…” dazai turns his eyes towards you. in the darkness, you can see the streetlights reflected in them like shards of shattered stars. he leans over, trails his fingers along the soft of your cheek.

“she was… difficult.”

“difficult… to kill?”

you turn towards him, letting the notebook fall shut.

“yes… she was — one of my last before…” he lets out a soft laugh, “before that bastard odasaku grew me a heart.”

you inch closer, push your palm against chest; outside, the light of a passing car paints the wall behind him in slivers of white before the light fades and you’re left blinking with the afterimage, printed across the backs of your eyelids. you taste dazai’s lips on yours before you feel him pressing in.

“isn’t it terrible?” he asks, “all these lives that i’ve taken?” and there’s a shudder in his voice that’s caught between fear and elation. you curl in closer, cup his cheek and let your nails dig into the bandages at the back of his throat. you tug them one, twice — hear dazai’s breath hitch into panting gasps.

“n-ngh — please —”

you bite his bottom lip, taste the metallic sting of blood and feel his hips kick against yours.

you grin to yourself as you press him back, crawling over him to straddle his body, pulling back just far enough to hear him hiss.

“yes,” you say, “it was terrible,” you say, even as you lean down to kiss him, even as you hold his face like a wishbone cupped between your palms. you kiss him like a wish made on a dandelion seed and grin as he whimpers beneath you.

“but there’s also that woman you saved — last tuesday — do you remember?” you ask, pulling back just enough for him to lean up and chase you, a whine twisting his way out of his throat as he yanks you back down, rakes his nails along your sides, down your back, digging crescent moons into the thick of your hips as you grind down over him.

“y-you mean that lady i pulled back from the crosswalk? sh-she wouldn’t have been hit by the bus even if i —”

“you won’t have done that before.”

the rustle of sheets goes quiet. and for a few precious seconds, the bedroom is just the sound of breathing. him and you and the world — taking one collective breath.

“i… i might have…” dazai swallows, his eyes flickering away from your face before you give him a tiny shake and force his gaze back onto you, “if i were… bored enough…”

you cock your head, and beneath your hands you can feel dazai’s skin simmering hot and then hotter.

“and then, there’s the nice old man at the tea house —”

“yes, but that was an agency assignment — he paid us —”

“would you have killed those people if you weren’t in port mafia to begin with?”

“i —” dazai stutters.

you lean back with a satisfied smirk, even as dazai pouts, his hands going slack around your waist.

“c’mon,” you say, swinging your leg from around his hips and slipping off the bed. dazai squawks, pushing himself up as he sputters after you.

“w-where are you going?”

you roll your eyes and pad back to the side of the bed, reaching out a hand.

“come on.”

he eyes your hand for a moment before sighing and taking it, letting you drag him bodily from the bed, downstairs into the living room where you spend too long rummaging around a few drawers before you jerk up with a triumphant a-ha!

you’re holding a notebook — in the darkness, dazai can’t really tell what the color of the cover is but it’s small. you grin toothily up at him as you drag him back up to the bedroom and plop down on the bed. the bedside table clicks on; dazai winces in the sudden brightness, in the warmth and light suddenly spilling from your side of the bed.

you’re lying on your stomach, your pillow shoved beneath your chest, pulling the cap of a pen off with your teeth, your feet kicking up behind you as you glance over at him. behind you, the lamp is spilling something like sunlight over your shoulders.

he’d never stopped to notice how warm bedside lamps are before today. or maybe, he’d noticed but he’d never thought about it until today. against it — your body looks like a cardboard cutout of what 'happiness' might look like.

“so!” you say, laughing as he slumps down on the bed beside you, making you bounce just a tad as he wiggles over to you, curling an arm around your waist again to pull you closer, “the lady… at the crosswalk… i thought she looked like… early 20’s? right?”

you scribble down your words as you say them, looking up when you’ve finished the first line.

the ink on the page is blue, not black like it is in his little death-ledger, as he’s grown to call it.

he blinks.

“uh… twenty-four, i think.”

you frown, “you think? that’s… really specific.”

dazai shrugs, “well, based on the texture of her hair ad the make of her —”

“okay, okay — got it, sherlock — so, twenty… four…” you mark down the number before moving to the next line, “old man at the teahouse —”

“sakanoshita kentarou,” dazai says, only for you to whip around and stare at him. he stares back, “what? he was an agency client! we keep files on everyone who requests our services…”

you press your mouth into a line but he doesn’t miss the twitch at the edge of your lips.

“okay — and age?”

“seventy three.”

you nod, penning that in.

and then, you move to the next line, listing down every agency member, and then all the port mafia folks you know the names of.

“w-wait, what are you doing?”

“listing people whose lives you’ve saved.”

“but…” dazai stares, and stares, and then finally, he drops his face into the pillow next to you with a loud, theatrical groan, “ah… has anyone ever told you that you’re perfect?”

you roll your eyes, “you don’t believe in perfection,” you say, turning back to the notebook.

“no… i didn’t,” dazai murmurs, shifting to pillow his cheek on his hands as he watches you continue to scribble.

your pen pauses, “didn’t?”

the use of past tense doesn’t escape you.

dazai smirks, “mm, yep.”

you narrow your eyes even as you feel your cheeks start to warm beneath his unrelenting gaze.

“w-what changed?”

dazai laughs, leaning in to poke your cheek with a forefinger, his eyes nearly as dazzling as his smile.

“now, now… you know i hate it when you ask questions you know the answers to…”

you bite your lips and turn back to the page. you’d been halfway through writing your own name, but dazai reaches out to take the pen from you and finishes off the last few strokes.

he pulls you in and presses his lips to your forehead.

“y’know… i hated you when we first met,” he says, casual, as he curls in next to you, watching as you continue to pen in names.

“yeah? i remember you told me that…” you turn to glance at him.

dazai nods, “you were the first person i met that made me want to keep on living… and for that, i don’t think i can ever forgive you.”

you smile, “well… i can live with that.”

dazai smiles as if accepting a challenge —

“yeah? well… so can i."

bsd dazai requests are open pls send me some i'm THIRSTY

138 notes · View notes