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aubeystawby · 11 months

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➤ SPIDER-VERSE CHARACTERS WITH AN AUTISTIC READER

miles morales, hobie brown, pavitr prabhakar, malala windsor (spider-uk), lyla, gwen stacy, peni parker, margo kess (spider-byte), jess drew, earth-42!miles morales, miguel o'hara

miles! who is surprisingly good at interpreting what you're trying to communicate when you're low on words. it took a bit of practice — his first few attempts of figuring out what you're trying to say leaving quite a bit to be desire — but after the first few times, he's really good at it. you need time alone? he can see it in the certain way you shake your head or bite your lip. you're anxious? just need a shoulder to cry on? he knows exactly what you mean and is there ready to hold you for as long as you need. it's a very impressive talent at this point, you have no idea how he does it

hobie! who — when he noticed you picking up his accent when talking to him — thought you were making a joke/mocking him. he didn't mind that much, but teased you about it before seeing your expression of confusion, until he realised you hadn't realised you were doing it. you even pick up some phrases from him. he also just finds it kind of cool, especially if he overhears you talking to someone else with a slight accent you picked up from him/he notices you imitating someone else's accent in a conversation. he probably picks yours up from you from time-to-time too

pavitr! who stims with you. you're vocal-stimming? he's repeating it back with no shame and suddenly you're both just making noises back-and-forth. you're bouncing up and down because you're really excited? he's bouncing with you too!! you're bouncing your leg nervously? he's doing it too, but this time he doesn't realise — it's just something he picked up from you. you're tapping your fingers on a table/surface because you're anxious or scared? he's drumming his fingers too, making little rythms to help distract you!! if you need someone who won't make you feel weird for stimming, he is your #1 guy

malala! who is really good at helping you when it comes to an autistic meltdown. she knows when to keep her distance, and she's more than fine with staying with you as long as you need, helping you calm down. she understands how distressing it can be, and understands that it can be even worse if you're all alone, so she's there for you. the queen of grounding strategies, she knows so many for like any situation, and is very patient when helping you through with them. she'll also stick around after, helping you and talking things out if you need. she can give pretty good advice, but also knows that talking can be hard and is totally down to just watch a movie with you or something!

lyla! who never judges you for not being able to control your volume. she may be an AI, but you've also been witness to her happily teasing miguel many a time, so it's nice to know she could care, but she doesn't — she really just doesn't mind it! if other people bring up your unpredictable volume, just go and talk to her! she's fun to talk to and if she hears someone made you feel insecure she's not against being just that extra bit annoying to them. if she's 'there' when it happens, she'd probably start talking really loudly too, to mess with whoever commented on it

gwen! who is just as bad with social cues as you are. she can infer some things, but really with how little she picks up on and how similar those things are to the ones you don't pick up on, you wouldn't be surprised if she's autistic too. she tries to be very observant if the two of you are in some sort of social setting, taking note of any social cues she might have missed otherwise. you two have a sort of communication system for moments like these, where she might tap your hand when she's confused or you might whisper a question in her ear subtly. it works surprisingly well, and you've breezed through more social situations than you'd usually be able to with her! there's absolutely awkward moments though where you're both just lost, don't worry though, she's like double awkward and can navigate out of that with sudden laughs or puns

peni! who always has something to chew on with her. with it be lollipops, chewing gum, or even just a random paperclip, she's always got something near her. having gum/something to chew on helps her think so she totally gets it if you ask for some (though it'd probably be a good idea to explain — even just briefly — that it's for a sensory thing and not just you trying to steal all her candy, then she'd be more understanding). if she ever gets a new candy she's never had before or a new flavour of gum, she always tell you excitedly because at this point she shares like half her candy with you (and doesn't mind and all, knowing how helpful it is for you)!

margo! who totally understand when certain songs/sounds sound really stimmy/nice. you know that effect some people put on songs that make it echo back and forth between your ears? she'd totally learn how to put that effect on all your favourite songs knowing that you'd love it. you mention a certain music genre/music technique sounds really stimmy to you? she's recommending you every song she hears that fits that description, she probably has a whole playlist of songs she knows you'd absolutely be stimming aggressively to. she thinks it's so cool that some sounds make you feel like that, and also just loves seeing you happy!

jess! who understands how important schedules can be to you, and how distressing it can be when things don't go as they did yesterday, so she plans everything with that in mind. her life is very all over the place, with being in the spider-society, let alone being spider-woman in general, but makes plans for the things she knows she can control. there's of course times when she's had to frantically call off plans for emergencies or disrupt the schedule, but she always understands it's impact on you and apologises every time. she promises to make it up to you and always does, she's known other autistic before and understands how important the structure is to you. she knows sudden changes suck, to say the least. trust me, if someone's planning like a surprise birthday party or something for you, she's got a few notes and perhaps a very polite "that's a bad idea" to whoever's planning it

earth-42!miles! who has no problems with listening to you ramble. he has a lot of responsibilities and is busy a lot of the time, but when he has down-time and finally gets a chance to rest, he actually loves to hear you infodump. it's so relaxing and comforting for him to just be able to listen to your voice as you talking about your latest hyperfixation, or having conversations with him about your special interest(s). he genuinely does listen, and sometimes he's very tired so he might not catch all of what you're saying, but he's definitely making an effort to listen to you. when he has more energy, he'll have proper conversations with you about all these things. that's when you really know he's been listening, when he asks questions, and there's something special in his eyes that tells you he really does care and he really does love to listen to you

miguel! who — when he first met you — found it really hard to communicate with you. he was used to people not exactly being fond of him, or being rather quiet when he was angry, but there was something a little off-putting about the way you were around him. it took a lot of asking lyla to talk to you and just observation to figure out you weren't the best with figuring tone. from then on he's more careful, not dancing around subjects at all — not that he used to really do that, but he makes a conscious effort to avoid that — and being as clear as possible as he can with his voice & body language. he absolutely tries to let you know he's open to you asking a clarifying question if you're still confused too. your confusion isn't really completely avoidable, it's just who you are, but he does everything he can to make things easier for you!

i absolutely LOVED writing these so much!! if you want to request another post like this, or a fic with any spider-verse character and an autistic reader, please do!! i'm not sure if i've seen any spider-verse x reader fics with autistic representation yet, so i'm more than happy to be the one to write those for you all! 💛 i also might have missed some characters in this, so if you want to request these kinds of headcanons for a character i forgot about, feel free to!!

(i love writing for less popular characters like margo, malala, peni, etc, so please do request anything for them too because i totally wanna write more for them in the future!!!)

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the-angry-pixie · 16 days

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Things I loved from Season 2 of Heartbreak High: (spoilers obviously)

bisexuals! bisexuals everywhere!

Cash getting out of jail - and choosing the right car to get in - when i tell you that scene had me literally screaming!

Harper and her like, entire journey

fucking RAGE callback with the aesthetic and everything!

Nan - best character in the whole show!

Zoe being a bit annoying but not being a villain

Cash and Darren just being so in love and like not even batting an eyelash at showing it to everyone (when they werent fighting that is)!

Spider's homelife - didn't see it coming but it fits

the whole commentary on masculinity and the war on "wokeness"

Chook being a good villain - as in, totally believable, totally terrifying in every scene he was in

Jojo and Woodsy just being... such good people, among the mayhem

Missy saying "petit miam" when she's speaking french

the BIRD PSYCHO mystery - kept me guessing right until the end

More Missy - what a queen!

SPEAKING OF ROYALTY HAVE I MENTIONED MY BISEXUAL KING MALAKAI!!!!!

I even liked the Dusty cameos - not too much, not too little

whenever Amerie and Harper would comfort each other in any scenario

actually any scenes with Harper - like literally whenever she was interacting with anyone it was just *chefs kiss* - Amerie, Cash, Woodsy, Ant, Quinni, Darren

SEXY DANCE FART - a slut-drop-fart was soooo not on my bingo card but thank you writers

baby Dougie adopting baby Darude 🥹

the music was banging! SO. MANY. GOOD. SONGS.

Spider's erectile dysfunction and how it was handled - not just played for laughs, but something that is obviously effecting him a lot

finding out the origin of Cash's nickname - heartbreaking!

THE FUCKING NUTBUSH!!!!! Its just not an Aussie school dance if there is no Nutbush

Ok I have to be up for work in like 5 hours so i really need to go to sleep now but I just had to get my thoughts down. Overall was very impressed with the season. Can't wait to do a rewatch and pick up on even more things!!

#i have all the feels but am so sleepy #heartbreak high #heartbreak high spoilers #spoilers

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ikarakie · 10 months

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one thing you learn living in new york: you literally never know what's going to happen the next day. it's become a general rule of thumb to expect the unexpected, so to speak.

despite this, when the avengers get reports of iron man flying in circles over queens, growing more frantic by the second, they're confused. mainly because they're currently sat at a table with tony stark himself. and, according to his ai, the suit that's out causing mayhem is still securely stored downstairs.

they all head out to see what the hell is going on. they meet with strange on the way, who mutters something about inter-dimensional disturbances and whatnot.

spider-man gets to the scene just before them. the second iron man visibly freezes when he spots him in his red and blue glory. "mr. stark?" they hear him ask. they see as he turns and spots them, and then does a double take. "what's going on?"

"underoos!" real tony calls, nervous, at the same time as the other one spots them, and then lurches forward to all but manhandle peter behind him.

the avengers all tense, readying for a fight. fake tony raises a repulsor. "i just want the kid. i don't want to fight."

"you don't belong here." strange says, infuriatingly calm. "i don't know how you got here, but you need to go home." fake tony nods. strange adds, "you can't take him with you." which earns him a rather mean blast. luckily, he ducks out of the way.

the poor kid is whipping his head back and forth, clearly confused. tony's stomach twists unhappily. "you don't understand," fake tony hisses, "all the work it took to get here. i'm not going home without him."

"you have to." strange takes a step forward, "you can't transport him between universes. it's not viable." the lenses on peter's suit widen, and he looks at the fake tony.

"he's from another universe?" steve asks, disbelieving. strange nods, and opens his mouth to say something more, but is cut off by the other-universe tony. he removes his faceplate, revealing a tony stark that is far more haggard than anyone had ever seen before. he's thinner, his eyes are darker, pleading. he looks like a man who's lost everything.

tony looks to peter, who's still staring, wide-eyed. he can see the gears in his head moving but can't decipher why.

"you dimension hopped to kidnap the kid?" tony asks, a little unfocused. the kid was in danger, and it was all he could think about. "why?" peter turns to him, then back to tony number two. he gasps as something apparently clicks in his brain.

he steps forwards, rounds the other-universe tony and stands in front of him. he instantly lowers the repulsor. "because i'm dead." peter says, confidently.

everyone pauses. they look at the spider like he's gone insane, because he clearly isn't dead, not anymore, at least. but other-universe tony looks like he's had the wind knocked out of him. "pete-"

peter deactivates his mask. "right?" he asks. other-universe tony frantically looks over his face.

"it's my fault." he says, softly. "i'm so sorry. i'm sorry, pete. i'm-"

"come out of the suit."

other-universe tony pauses. "what?"

"come out here, please." peter asks again. other-universe tony does as he asks, stumbling out and immediately into the open and waiting arms of the baby spider. it seems to break him, the embrace; all at once he loses any trace of intimdation and anger and sobs, curling around the boy as much as he can. peter seems unphased, unlike the other heroes, and shushes him. "it's okay, mr. stark. it's not your fault," he murmurs soothingly, only reaching their ears due to the intercom on his suit. "it was never your fault. i chose this, i chose to come up there. i didn't regret it for a second."

other-universe tony heaves. "i was supposed to protect you. i failed. i failed and you're gone and you were so scared and i couldn't do anything-"

"you're wrong," peter soothes, and it's a weird image. the child comforting the adult. "if he was anything like me, then-" for a second, his eyes cut back to this-universe tony. "then he was glad you were there when he was dying. you made him feel safer. it would've been so much worse without you."

and then it all clicks for tony. this was a version of him from a world post-snap, who'd watched a kid he considered his own fade to dust in his arms. who sat in his own guilt, and shame, and loneliness. he knew the feeling all too well, and this tony had crossed dimensions to try and get his kid back in any way possible.

if it were for anyone but peter parker, this tony would've said it was a little dramatic.

he's sent home eventually, the other tony, after some more comforts and a not so subtle hint as to how they got everyone back after the snap, much to strange's dismay. later, real tony sits in the lab, watching peter from across a table, and he asks, "how'd you figure it out?"

"figure what out, mr. stark?"

"why that other me was here." peters looks up from whatever he's tinkering with. frowns.

"well, you invented time travel to get me back," he says. "why would you stop before dimension travel? it just made the most sense." tony has half a mind to argue, but one look at his lab: a midtown high hoodie draped over the back of a chair, a teenager's backpack in the corner, a seperated table with it's own organisational pattern and piles of blueprints, a report card pinned to a board, and a spiderman charm hanging from dum-e, he figures the kid is right.

"yeah, well, i love you a little too damn much then, don't i?" he doesn't think about the words before he says them. he's felt it for so long it feels like a second instinct.

luckily he gets no time to panic. because peter immediately lights up, says, "i love you too." and gets back to work.

damn kid.

#dont ask me when in canon this is set cos it isnt #irondad #spiderman #iron man #tony stark #peter parker #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #spiderman no way home #irondad fic #irondad and spiderson #spiderson #spider son #irondad angst #kinda #lol

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all444miles · 10 months

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can you do miles with and earthy black girl! Like I can see him wanting her nose rings, and accessories but don’t get me started on how he SIMPS for her waist beads. He loves seeing her at school with her hair wrap and locs and her lavender and coco sent, she’s a calm person to!

thank you so much for your AMAZING work God bless❤️❤️❤️❤️

— DOWN TO EARTH

— pairing: both miles' x black!earthy!fem!reader — genre: fluff — summary: what its like for both miles' to date an earthy girl ‹3 — a/n: quick note, the reader calls 1610 miles "bambi" as a nickname becuase he reminds her of a baby deer ‹3 (credits to my pookie for that !!) — a/n 2: I didn't know which miles you meant, so i just did both 😭 also pretend that brooklyn visions academy doesnt have a uniform.. i was tired writing this so im rlly rlly RLLLY sorry if this is bad but, i hope you like this, and enjoy !! ‹3

E-42 MILES

Miles loves being in your room. the smell of burning coconut incense, the look of your fairy lights, the small plants, it felt so chill, so peaceful. he liked that.

he always knows which incense you've used, and will pick up if you've changed them. He'll buy you some if you need any more.

"You got rid of the coconut incense? Mami, that one was my favorite." "Baby, I only have one pack left." "Oh? Aight, i'll buy you some tomorrow."

he'll never tell you, but if he misses you, he'll listen to your favorite songs that you'd always hum to yourself when you two are alone.

does he like Erykah Badu? Yes, yes he does. he'll listen to Green Eyes on his missions with his uncle whenever he gets the chance.

his uncle caught him once; one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

"Kid, you listenin' Erykah Badu? Ian know you into allat." "Yo chill, it's only cuz my girl like her." "Mhm. You sure you my nephew or am I trippin?" "Tio, let's just roll."

he's loves to cuddle with you, especially cause you always smell like lavender. he won't let you go either.

"Miles, I gotta get some food." "Nuh, in a minute." "Hun, you done said that 2 minutes ago." "Exactly, in a minute. I like being here."

absolutely in love with your waist beads. he loves the jewllery you were (you both have matching necklaces), but your waist beads? goes absolutely crazy whenever you wearing a crop top and you have them on.

one time you two were at a beach and you wore them with your bikini, he might as well have fell in love with you all over again. bro has his hands on your waist the whoooleee time.

"Princesa, never take off your waist beads." "Why? You like 'em?" "¿Gustarme? Chica, Dios mío, estoy enamorada de ellos." (Like them? Girl, my god, i'm in love with them.) "Miles!" "What? I'm just appreciating my queen n her style, ion see no problem."

E-1610 MILES

Miles is obsessed, like, obsessed, with your style.

if you two live close, he'll style your locs and do your head wrap for you before school.

if not, he'll come to school excited to see your ootd. that is, as if you don't send them to him everyday before school.

"You look gorgeous in your outfit, amor." "Thank you Miles. You do know i already showed you it before school, right?" "So? It's always better to see my wife's outfits in person." "Bambi, you so corny."

he draws you, all the time. look through his sketchbook and you'll find drawings of his friends from the spider society, his uncle, and thousands of you.

Instead of doing what his twin does, when he misses you, he'll draw you. He misses you a lot.

"Baby, can I see your sketchbook?" "..Uhm, yeah! Sure." "You draw me? Awwe, that's so cute."

he loves how calm you are, he actually thinks of you as an angel the way you're so peaceful.

he thinks your nose rings are so gorgeous. if you let him pick which nose ring, he'll be so honored.

adores the fact you smell like lavender. he'll always lay his head into the crook of your neck because he loves your scent sm.

like his counterpart, he's so fascinated to your waist beads. like, he just thinks you look so beautiful with em. One time, you put his hands on your waist, he honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

"Mami, did you know I love your waist beads?" "Yes, bambi, i know." "Nah, but I loooovvveeeee them!" "Baby, i know!" "Like, I looooooooooooovvvvvvvveeeeee them!" "Love, please."

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

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exhaslo · 12 days

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Corruption Ch18 (End)

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15, Ch16, Ch17

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, public sex, creampie, breeding kink

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D-Day

The weather was chilly as the first heavy snow of the season finally started to flutter. Your eyes sparkled as you watched from Miguel's office window, adoring the view of the city. The city of Nueva York was beautiful before you.

Shivering slightly as you touched the window, you started to wonder if you were going to be okay for tonight. You had found out that Miguel was now Spider-Man. He secretly enhanced himself somehow and was doing who knows what.

"Yet he says I can't be a hero," You said with a soft pout.

Returning to your seat on Miguel's desk, you started to tap away on your tablet. A whimper escaping your throat as you rubbed your legs together. Miguel had been consuming both your body and mind and it was showing.

Trying to focus back on your work, you started to think about how Miguel was at home. He was such a romantic. Always taking care of you, pleasuring you and treating you like a queen. It felt so strange from someone who loved to torture people.

"(Y/N), I have another meeting in a half hour, correct?" Miguel asked as he quickly entered his office.

You snapped out of your dazed state and checked the tablet. Agreeing to his comment, you watched as Miguel cussed lowly and grabbed a drink from his fridge. Jumping off the desk, you approached Miguel and stroked his cheek,

"Are you okay? Do your eyes bother you?" You asked out of concern.

"Hah, still so worried about me," Miguel said with a smirk, "You need to start focusing on yourself."

"Mhm, it's pretty cold today," You cooed softly.

Miguel stroked your cheek before grabbing your hand. He had you follow him to the lab that was destroyed from the explosion a while back. It was being rebuilt rather quickly. To your surprise, Miguel had Lyla activate a tablet that was locked away.

"Until I set up a second location for a secret lab, this will be where I conduct my experiments for our Spider powers," Miguel said in a whisper and showed you the tablet, "Starting with a suit for you that generates warmth."

"Oh! Miguel!" You smiled brightly, hugging your boyfriend, "How long have you been designing this?"

"Since I found out," Miguel said honestly as he pulled out the suit, "You're going to need it for tonight."

You jumped in glee, pecking Miguel's cheek as you went to observe your new suit. It had some subtle changes, but nothing that you truly worried about. Miguel made you this suit and you were going to happily wear it.

-------

Miguel just smirked as he watched you get all giddy with joy. Yes, he included a heating element so you could swing in peace, but he also added so much more. That suit was to represent to the city that you were no longer a hero to them.

You were Miguel's.

"Now, I have a meeting to get to. Why don't you finish reviewing the paperwork of the restorations?"

"Okay~"

The more obedient you became, the more Miguel craved you. It started to become unhealthy and Miguel noticed, but he didn't care. As long as Miguel still got what he wanted, then he believed he was allowed to have everything.

Parting ways with you for the moment, Miguel kept a calm composure. He was debating on telling his idiot father about his new found powers. The reason? To take control of Alchemax and the shareholders.

Miguel had big plans for both the company and the city.

Everything was going to belong to him.

Everything.

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Your smile stretched from ear to ear as you wore your new suit. It fit you perfectly. Standing on top of the Alchemax building, you inhaled deeply. The cold weather wasn't bothering you thanks to your new suit. It was great!

"Enjoying the suit?" Miguel asked, appearing in his suit. You gasped, approaching him,

"Wow! I didn't get a good look last night, but you look amazing in that suit!"

It was hard to tell if Miguel was smiling at the compliment due to his mask. His attire was different from yours, but also quite nice. It made you wonder how long he was working on this. Giggling at the thought, you hugged Miguel,

"This is so cool. We can work together~"

"About that-" Miguel stopped you, grabbing your chin, "This will be your last night as a hero."

"Wha-"

You were at a loss for words. Miguel's fingers stroked your thumb, unmoving from his comment. You were no longer going to play a hero? There was no way Miguel could take on the role. You were hoping to guide him.

"But-"

"What did I say?"

You gave a small pout, "To do as you say," You said and gasped as Miguel pulled you into his embrace.

"Good girl," Miguel chuckled darkly, "Besides, I'll take over. I'll make sure this city is taken care of."

"Mhm....but....You've never fought before," You whispered, melting against his touch.

"Neither did you when you first started."

Touché. Miguel got you there. Agreeing to his decision, you gently tugged on his suit, wanting to go for a swing across the city. This would be your last time doing so.

--------

Miguel was holding back from laughing. How far you've come from trying to change him, to being his obedient good girl. There was something about tainting you that brought chills up his spine. Miguel enjoyed breaking you.

"Come on~" You cooed, falling off the building.

Like instinct, Miguel went to reach for you. He withdrew as you laughed and started to swing. He let out a soft sigh and followed you, making sure that you didn't go far. There was one last lesson that Miguel needed to teach.

Swinging above some reporters, Miguel just chuckled darkly. He hurried towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist before swinging you onto of the nearest building. You whined softly but stopped as Miguel started to rub against your clit.

"M-Miguel...n-not here...a-anyone could watch," You tried to protest. Miguel just found you cute,

"They won't know it's you. All they will see is Spider-Man giving Spider-Woman the time of her life."

"Mhm~ B-But-" You gasped as Miguel rubbed your clothed clit harder.

Miguel just chuckled as he looked down at the reporters. They were trying their best to get a shot of the two of you. Turning you around, Miguel undid the bottom of your suit. You were already dripping in anticipation for him.

What a good girl.

Miguel held your hips as his suit disappeared only around his dick. With a simple thrust, Miguel had you under his spell. You were gripped the edge of the building, moaning as he slapped his cock deep within you.

"Not so shy now, huh? Did you want those reports to watch me breed you? To have them watch the once hero, Spider-Woman get fucked stupid?" Miguel taunted.

"N-No~" You cried out. Miguel hummed as your pussy fluttered around his cock,

"Could have fooled me."

Miguel grunted as he held you in place. All those reporters could see was Spider-Woman getting railed by Spider-Man. This showed them who was in charge. To show them that there were no more heroes left in his city.

"Mhm~!" Miguel covered your mouth as you moaned, wanting to make sure you didn't say his name.

"I hope you're ready to answer some questions." Miguel said with a wicked smirk.

You just raised your hips and whined as Miguel fucked through your orgasm. With a few more thrusts, Miguel gave you his first load. Unamused by the amount, Miguel made sure to fill you up before your interview.

"Now, you're ready."

--------

You leaned over the building, panting heavily from Miguel's quick sex session. Your mind felt dizzy. Miguel was so mean. Fixing your suit, you shuddered as your body felt full. You were going to get pregnant at this rate.

"Come on,"

Wrapping your arms around Miguel, you hummed as he swung you over to the reporters. You couldn't think straight. All you wanted to do was behave for Miguel.

"S-Spider-Man....W-What...What are you doing here?" One of the reported asked, terrified, "A-And what have you done with Spider-Woman?"

"Hm? She seems fine, don't you?" Miguel said, motioning towards you.

"Mhm, I'm fine," You replied.

"H-How long have...have you two been together?" Another reporter asked. Miguel's hand wrapped around your waist,

"What do you think?" Miguel held you close as he snatched a microphone away from one of the reporters, "Since I have you all here, time to lay down some ground rules."

Everyone could only gasp.

"There are no more heroes left to save you. If anyone dares to confront me, they will perish. Nueva York is my city now and soon the world. Spider-Woman and I shall bring forth a new breed of advance humans to rule over you tiny incest's-"

"There's no way she would agree to this!"

"Oh? Well, what do you think, my dear?" Miguel whispered in your ear, causing you to shiver.

"I belong to him, so I will do as he says," You cooed, trembling as Miguel whispered, 'Good Girl', in your ear.

"As you can see, I have already corrupted your hero."

Humming lowly as Miguel pulled you close, you smiled as he kept speaking to the public.

"Listen to me, and you'll be fine."

A simple ask. Miguel treated you like a queen and all you had to do was listen and do what he says. Nothing crazy. Feeling yourself being lifted, you wrapped your arms around Miguel's neck as he swung away from the terrified reporters.

"Best make do on my promise."

"Yes, Miggy~"

What was once a dream of being a hero and saving both the city and Miguel, turned into nightmare.

The hero was corrupted by the villain and didn't even know it.

But, you weren't complaining. You just stayed as Miguel's good girl...

Forever

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WOO-HOO!!! I hope you all enjoyed this story!!!! I, for one, will miss it truly!

I didn't hesitate to start my next story, haha! I PRESENT:

Over-Time

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd @daddyfroglegs @shoukanjo @cicithemess @babyprofessorsharkpalace

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

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moon-rivr · 7 months

Text

fetish

pairing: ex boyfriend miguel x fem reader

warnings: oral (f and m receiving), doggy, and mating press (pretty sure i probs forgot smth 🧍🏻)

author’s note: i got the idea from listening to the song and i hope you enjoy lol :)

word count: 2830

You swore to yourself that last time was the last time that you would hook up with your ex again, but despite how much you wanted to, you still found your way under his sheets again. Even though you said those words to him at the end of the night, you both knew you were lying and would continue with that cycle. Miguel wasn't a bad boyfriend per se, he did have some struggles with communicating properly and had some unresolved mommy issues, but he treated you like you were the most valuable thing in his life. In the time that you did spend together anyways, since he did always prioritize the Spider Society over you.

You spent your day off running some errands and taking care of your mental health, watching some tv and finding ways to unwind for the following work week. Around 11 while you were binging your favorite series, your phone pinged with a message from Miguel.

stop going back to him(pls): I managed to leave hq early if you wanna come over. I bought those empanadas you liked from Queens.

You felt the internal conflict in your brain, wanting to say no to him and stay home but you also knew that a part of you missed having Miguel hold you and tell you sweet nothings after having sex. You thought about it for a couple seconds before realizing that you'd binged the entire series in one sitting, blaming that as the reason why you would go over to Miguel's place. You wanted to be mad at him for reaching out after telling him that last time would be the last time, but how could you if you kept going back despite pushing him away?

Your palms grew clammy as you paced around Miguel's front porch, thinking if you should just run away and never come back here. You stopped your pacing and looked up when you heard the front door open, seeing Miguel standing there with a puzzled look on his face. "I didn't mean to interrupt your quarter life crisis but my camera sent out an alert," he spoke up a bit later, rubbing the back of his back awkwardly. Your common sense went out the window when you saw him leaning against the doorframe in just a pair of grey sweatpants hung just low enough to get a glimpse of his happy trail and water droplets clinging to his pecs like he just got out the shower.

You stepped into his house, noting that he'd made it look a bit more homely, turning on a eucalyptus candle and had even gotten a small, black cat. Your brow arched as the cat approached you, since Miguel wasn't too fond of animals usually, but you bent down to pet it nonetheless. "My therapist said it might be helpful to get some sort of grieving buddy," he mumbled, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment. "It's cute, what's it's name?" you asked, taking the cat in your arms as you stroked its back. "That's Apollo, he's a pretty decent cat. Doesn't poop outside the litter box," Miguel said, looking over at you as you scratched Apollo’s belly and sat down on the couch.

Miguel handed you the empanada he'd mentioned in the texts wrapped up in a napkin along with a ice cold Coke. "Colombian empanadas?" You asked, pursing your lips a little in amusement since you knew Miguel usually preferred mexican ones. "The little mexican restaurant around the corner was closed, but I'll have to give it to you, those are pretty good," he replied as he sat down on the couch next to you, turning on the tv. He placed one arm around your shoulders as you ate your empanada, just enjoying the pleasure of your company at the moment. "How's it going at the society?" You asked curiously, glancing over at him as you saw his jaw clench a bit. "It's good, got some new recruits and we're in the process of training them," he says after a couple seconds, his jaw unclenching as he takes a bite out of his empanada.

About half an hour later, you two had finished up eating up the empanadas and were just curled up on the couch watching Breaking Bad. "What if we run off to New Mexico and cook meth?" You asked Miguel, your lips curling into a smile as he shook his head, laughing a bit. "Knowing you, we'd probably end up burning the rv," he replied, poking your cheek teasingly. "Well that's what you're there for, for all the science-y stuff while I sit there and look pretty," you told him, a grin on your face as you made the suggestion. His hand gently rubbed circles on your lower back as you leaned against his shoulder, before he spoke out again, "Do you wanna head to the bedroom?"

You knew you should've stopped it there, after he asked you that question but you couldn't help but nod and walk with him to the bedroom. He walked with you to the bedroom, leaving the cat laying on the couch, while his hand gently stroked your back. The physical affection he was giving you was unusual, but you still basked it in the small acts nonetheless. He closed the door behind you, grabbing some of the research papers he had on his bed and putting them off to the side. You took off your shoes and set them off the side, looking over at Miguel as he walked closer to you.

"I missed you," he whispered against your neck, his fangs gently grazing the skin as he started to kiss it. You felt your legs tremble underneath you from how sweetly his lips were running against your skin and Miguel gestured for you to jump, leading you two to his bed. He sat down, placing you on his lap as he started to unbutton your blouse. "Siempre te ves tan chula, corazón," he spoke softly, like the words were only dignified to be heard by you two as he leaned in and pressed soft kisses on your collarbone. He bit down on your shoulder and ran over it with his tongue, letting out a soft moan as your hands tugged on his hair. He continued to nip and lick at your skin, soft moans and heavy breaths filling up the room before he reached your bra. "Are you sure about this, querida?" He asked, his finger toying with the strap as he looked at you for any signs of discomfort. "I'm sure," you replied, watching as his eyes darkened with need and he snapped your bra with his talon. (you always look so gorgeous, love/darling)

"Was it really necessary to snap my bra off?" You grumbled a bit, the thought dying off as you felt his mouth envelop your nipple. "I'll buy you as many bras as you want," he murmured, lifting his head up slightly so you'd hear him before going back to sucking on your nipples. His tongue formed small circles around your areola as your hands wound tightly in his hair. His other hand began rubbing small circles too, providing you with the same amount of pleasure in each one. He pulled away from your nipple a couple seconds later just to switch places, leaving small marks and hickeys in his wake.

He laid you down on the bed after he was sufficiently satisfied with the marks he left on your breasts, working on taking off your pants. You saw the look in his eyes darken a bit as he spread your legs apart, realizing that you weren't wearing any panties. "Toda mojadita y solo para mí, hm?" He said as he got in between your legs, looking up at you. "Solo para ti," you murmured, your hands tangled up in his hair as he slowly started kissing on your calves. It was true, even if you reprimanded yourself every time you exited Miguel's house with your makeup messed up, nobody could make you feel or make you cum the same way that he did. His mouth moved upwards, leaving small kisses as he did before he reached your pussy. He let out a small chuckle as he saw you open your legs instinctively, almost welcoming him in. "What if we try something new?" (all wet and just for me/just for you)

When Miguel had suggested something new, your brain started conjuring up what he could be talking about but you didn't think he'd actually tell you to sit on his face. "I'm Spider-Man, cmon, what could go wrong?" He remarked after you made a comment about crashing his face, your face flushing a shade of deep red. "Fine, but if it starts to get too much just tell me," you said to him after a while of consideration, sitting on his lap. "I think I should be the one telling you that," he replied with a small chuckle, helping you move up to his face. You felt yourself growing nervous as you looked down at Miguel, his eyes glistening with want. You decided to hover against his face for now, feeling his tongue gently running through your thighs.

"I thought I told you to use my face like a damn chair. ¿Qué parte de eso no entiendes, preciosura?" He asked, tsking his tongue as his hands pushed down on your thighs. You gave up on your last bit of resistance when you noticed how much he seemed to want it, your thighs on either side of his face. He let out a small groan as he licked a stripe on your folds, your thighs enclosing tighter around his head. He pulled on your folds gently, his hands massaging your thighs as he took his time to really taste you. (what part of that don’t you understand, precious?)

His tongue slipped inside, licking away at the wetness that was building up. He plunged his tongue deep inside of you, swirling it in just the right way that had your mouth wide open and your hands gripping his hair tightly. "Don't stop," you moaned out, feeling him start to suck on your pussy with a new vigor. You began moving your hips against his face, seeking out your release. His mouth closed around your clit, sucking on it and licking it with just the right amount of pressure as two of his fingers plunged deep inside you. He curled his fingers, pumping them in and out at a steady pace and you felt your orgasm building up. "Miguel, I'm about to cum," you warned, but he didn't relent and held you down with his other hand.

He started licking up your release from your pussy and off his fingers, helping you get off his face. You got a good look at his face, noticing how soaked his mouth and chin were but he didn't seem to care. "Tan deliciosa," he murmured, raising your chin as he kissed you softly. The taste of you and him combined was intoxicating, something that you couldn't get in another place. You got down on your knees, starting to take Miguel's sweats off before he did it for you, taking them off in record time. "And here you were calling me out for not having panties," you said with a small laugh, his cock slapping your chin as he finished up with taking off his pants. "Gotta let the cheeks breathe." (so delicious)

You swiped the precum building up at the tip with your pointer finger, your gaze on him as you licked it. Your mouth enclosed around his cock, your gaze on him as you started to suck on the tip. He put his hand at the back of your head, slowly starting to guide you deeper. One of your hands was wrapped around his shaft, pumping the parts that you couldn't take in your mouth as your other hand cupped his balls, massaging them. He let out a moan when he looked down to see your nose pressed against his pubic hair, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You pulled away, a string of saliva left before you went back to sucking on his cock.

He let out a guttural moan as your mouth enclosed around his cock perfectly, your hands cupping and tugging on his balls. You took more of his length in your mouth, looking up at him as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. "I'm gonna cum, princesa," he moaned out, his hand on the back of your head. You didn't relent, your mouth still taking his length entirely as he shot out spurts of cum in your mouth. He released completely in your moan, your eyes capturing his as you swallowed his cum. He took your hand, helping you up as he guided you back to the bed. "On your hands and knees, cariño." (princess/sweetheart)

You quickly got to your hands and knees, letting out a small yelp as you felt a slap on your ass. He gripped your hips tightly as he slipped inside you, your previous orgasm providing him with the lubrication he needed. He started off slow, his hands on your hips as he thrusted before quickening his pace. His heavy balls slapped against your thighs as his hips moved at an animalistic pace to help you both reach that peak of pleasure. His hand pulled on your hair, pulling you close to him as he kissed on your shoulders, biting down. He couldn't help but smile at seeing your shoulders marked by him, knowing that he imprinted himself on you at least for a couple days. One of his hands moved down to your clit, rubbing fervent circles on it as he basked in the way your hands clawed at the sheets underneath you. Your mouth contorted in an 'o' shape, letting out moans of Miguel's name.

"Right there, Miguel!" You moaned out loudly, holding the sheets underneath you in a vice as you felt your orgasm building up once more. With one final thrust of his hips, you slumped against the bed as you came, clear liquid coating the base of Miguel's cock. You took a few moments to come down from your high, looking over to see that Miguel was already ready for the second round. You laid on your back when he pushed your knees against your chest, slowly pushing his cock back inside you.

Your walls tightly clamped around his cock as he started to thrust inside you, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he started to move faster. Miguel’s gaze was focused on the way your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts. His hands moved to grip your hips tightly as he thrusted faster, your walls clenching around him tightly. "You say each time is the last one but no one can fuck you like this, hm?" He said, his mouth in a cocky smirk as he continued to move against you. "No! Nobody can," You babbled, all coherent thought dying with each one of his thrusts. He let out a small chuckle before one of his hands started to circle around your clit, rubbing it just right. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix as he thrusted deeply, your hands clutching onto the sheets even tighter.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock brush up against your g-spot, your toes curling as he made it his mission to continue to hit that spot. Your walls clenched around his cock tightly before you came once more, clear white liquid hitting his abdomen. "No one else can make you squirt like I can, isn't that right?" He teased you, thrusting in you one last time before he came, his cum dripping from your pussy to his bedsheets. He took out his softening cock out of you a couple seconds later, grabbing a rag from his bedside table to clean you up.

"You don't have to go right away, y'know? Stay a while," he spoke up after a while, rubbing small circles on your stomach as he looked at you. However, you were already wallowing in regret as he did so, blaming yourself for not having enough self control to deny his desires every time he called. Despite all this, you did stay for a while and enjoyed his company, pretending for a moment that he did actually want something more with you apart from a late night fuck.

You quickly picked up your clothes about an hour later, putting them on as you glanced over to see Miguel already looking at you. You finished up getting dressed and fixed up your hair, dipping your head down to kiss his cheek. You lingered for a moment before whispering, "This is the last time."

You could only hoped that you sounded convincing enough to Miguel.

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lamemaster · 1 month

Text

Made of Sugar

Request: Hi! Hope this finds you well, mind if i req for a Thranduil x reader where they're like telling legolas how they met, maybe they met during the war of the last alliance? anyways love ur work especially the angst but now i need some not angst? cus im actually going to cry lmao

Pairing: Thranduil x Wife Reader

Genre: Fluff

AN: This has been due a long time! I'm sorry for the delay but this writer suffers from smooth brain 98% of the time.

“Legolas Thranduilion!” Your voice rings out loud, breaking his thoughts. For once, he wishes his father's presence was there. “Have I not made it clear that you are not to go to the wine cellars?” You pinch your nose blinking furiously as was your habit when agitated.

Legolas hasn’t known love stronger than the one he has felt for you, his eme. Your stories, your songs, the little stars you paint on the roof of his room– Legolas absorbs them with the wide-eyed devotion of a sunflower turning its face to the first rays of the sun.

But all that love does not diminish the distress of your anger. You, the one who laughed most easily, whose smile could chase away any shadow, were now a storm cloud gathered over his head.

The familiar scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke that clung to you did little to soothe the storm brewing in your eyes. Legolas flinched – he knew the terrifying, steely glint that hardened your gaze when truly angered. It was a sight rarer than a dust storm in Greenwood, but all the more impactful when it came.

At barely 80 years old, facing your wrath felt far more daunting than any monstrous spider lurking in the Greenwood.

"You are too young," you said, your voice tight. "Just you wait until I tell Thranduil." You paced around the room, pinching the bridge of your nose, a telltale sign of your agitation. "Maybe he will listen and move the wine cellars away from the main palace."

Staring at the untouched cakes, Legolas yearned for nothing more than for this tension to pass. He longed to see your easy smile return. The sight of untouched cakes, usually a source of joy, only emphasized the heavy weight of your displeasure. He longed for the days when your laughter filled the room, chasing away any shadow.

“Beloved queen of mine,” Thranduil sauntered in, his footsteps barely a whisper on the polished floor. The scent of pine needles and leather, a familiar trail, announced his presence even before he entered. “The cellar unfortunately cannot be moved.” Thranduil is already in the process of taking off his heavy robes while detangling his hair from the crown's tiny branches.

Legolas watched with a flicker of worry as your eyes narrowed in annoyance before you gave up to help his ada. "He went in there today," your gaze felt heavy on him even as you busied yourself helping Thranduil detangle the crown. "What if he drank your wine? That thing is disgusting and Legolas is too young. You must move the wine somewhere else." You placed the crown on the table.

Thranduil threw him an amused grin as your back remained turned to them as you instructed the staff to bring fresh snacks and tea. "What if I didn't get there in time…good thing Feren was kind enough to inform me."

"I am disappointed Legolas," Thranduil looked at him without an ounce of anger, and your glare at the king of Greenwood told him that this did not go unnoticed by you. "But I am sorry, my love," He looked up at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, "The cellars must remain untouched. I would never in a million ages, change the place of our first meeting."

Legolas' breath hitched in his throat. You frowned. And Thranduil snickered in delight.

"You cannot be serious!" You replied indignantly.

"You met in the wine cellars?!" Legolas asked at the same time.

"We did, ion," Thranduil adds before you can cover his lips with your palm. Thranduil throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. A weird sight to see you this flustered, this agitated.

"We did not!"

"We absolutely did!"

"Well, I was 120," you say, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "You were not princeling."

The servants gawk at the term of endearment that slips past your lips. Some almost drop the trays of food as they put them in front of you. But both you and Thranduil are too taken by the task of bickering like decade-old elflings. "Oh yeah, I too was of age," Thranduil counters with a twinkle in his eye. "Almost of age. Only 4 years shy of it."

Thranduil straightens up, taking a playful bite into a fruit cake. "Four years too young, my love," you smirk, the topic of Legolas' transgression long forgotten. The steel of your rage softened into its original inky warmth.

"I acquiesce, my respected elder," Thranduil bows dramatically, sending another wave of laughter through the room. Legolas watched in amusement, a flicker of relief washing over him as the conversation shifted. Your voices rose in a playful argument.

Legolas, eyeing the untouched cakes, finally understood. Your gentle nature thrived beside his father, much like the sweetness of a cake is best appreciated with a pinch of salt.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #legolas #fluff #tolkien #tolkien elves #family feels

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aceyogurt · 1 month

Note

I was wondering if you're okay writing an Angel Dust. M!Reader. More specifically Drag Angel Dust. I haven't seen anyone make these before so this is an original idea. A one-shot if perfect, but you can do whatever you want. You can do this as smut or fluff, it doesn't matter! Have a great rest of your day!!

Late night show (NSFW)

A/n: HEYYYY SORRY FOR THIS TAKING SO LONG. I’ve been like dead I know anywaysssssss Angel Dust smut and he’s a drag queen!!!! Okay little note tho I don’t much about drag nor have I written male x male smut before so I apologize if it’s not the best!

Word count: 1.5k

It was an annoyingly long work day today, and the feeling inside yourself was of complete emptiness with a small amount of annoyance. Usually, whenever a day would go on like this you'd get home, open a bottle, and drink till the bottom, but tonight was different. You had been overhearing talk of this new drag show which was supposed to have some good acts. (along with cheap booze). While you’ve never been particularly interested in drag shows you figured fuck it why not. (and again cheap booze was enough to cash you in).

Figuring that these types of places aren’t exactly ‘formal’ you changed out of your work uniform, and now the issue came to what you would wear since you didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb. You decided a simple color crop top with some shorts would work. And so you were on your way! Luckily the place wasn’t hard to find because, when coming up to it bright pink neon signs filled your view, Spiders Lounge underneath in smaller print stated it was both a drag show and bar.

Entering the place it was a more typical club set up but, having a pink stage with silk curtains near the back. You figured you'd get a drink (or two) then make your way down to the show and watch well whatever the fuck drags do. (Why would you go to a drag show not even knowing what it is you dumb fu-).

Going up to the bar you were met with a cat like a bartender who seemed pleasant. “What can I get for yah boy,” the bartender asks and you reply. “Whatever’s the cheapest you got.” you hear a soft husky chuckle as he goes to get what you wanted. In the meantime, your eyes wandered the club, familiarizing yourself with your surroundings. As your attention wandered to the stage the bartender spoke to you while sliding the drink order to you. “First time here?” you took a good gulp from the drink “Yeah” the bartender was cleaning a glass while nodding “You should pay attention to this next guy that starts in a few minutes. Crowd loves him” While you weren’t exactly interested in the drag performers themselves you figured you’d continue the convo, “Oh yeah? And what’s so special about him?” the sinner laughed and simply replied, “You’ll see”. You rolled your eyes before ordering another drink.

As you were making your way down to the stage area you saw there was much more of a crowd now, and along with that the lights had dimmed a lot more giving much more of a romantic atmosphere. You didn’t care to stay too close to the stage so you took a seat in a booth nearby away from the huge swarm of sinners who seemed more than eager to see this special performer.

A speaker played above everyone “And now the performer of the night, Angel Dust!~” The lights dimmed as the club seemed to almost go silent, whispers probably had appeared near the back but, no one near the stage dared to speak, that’s when the curtains opened and pink neon lights silhouetted a performer. A new York-style style accent had begun to sing. “Till death do us part” he hadn’t even finished the first line and the crowd started falling head over heels. Throughout his performance, the lights started to become less harsh allowing his features to show much better. And damn, you had to admit he was fucking hot. Having a latex black dress with a pair of platforms really brought out his character. And his makeup was perfectly done with long and thick eyeliner that could mesmerize anyone who fell into his web. He made eye contact with you at one particular part of his act and winked. You could feel your face turn red (along with something else).

While the song had ended he started to move onto the next part of the performance. “Now that that's over with this next part of the show Ima need a guest volunteer” Sinners everywhere started shouting and begging to be chosen by him, but none of them knew he already had the perfect sinner in mind. “You in the back” his eyes were in your direction and you turned both ways to see if he was referring to you before giving him a confused look. “Yes, you pretty boy, come up here”. Now if you were sober there was no way in hell you would've gone up, but those drinks had helped you loosen up and you felt your legs carry you up onto the stage. You watched as other sinners shot looks of daggers and envy at you as you were met to the side of the spider. “Before we get onto the main course, what's your name sweet cheeks” Angel asked directly to you and handed the mic over, you tell him and the crowd your name before he takes the microphone back to continue on. “Well for this performance tonight I’m gonna be dancing with the guy here and see how well he does.” the crowd became even more envious of you, but all that you could think about is the fact you couldn’t dance. At all. So you tap the performer on the shoulder (or the closest you could get to it) and softly speak to him, embarrassed not letting the crowd hear. “I can’t dance at all. I think it’d be better if you-” he cut you off grabbing your arm to pull you close to him as he spoke back in the same quiet manner. “You don’t gotta think about anything, just follow what I do.”

You weren’t even given the chance to protest back as the music started playing and he guided you around the stage, while you yourself couldn’t dance, he sure could. Spinning around doing all kinds of moves the two of you mesmerized the crowd and halfway through the song those thoughts that had been clouding your mind were nowhere now. And Before you knew it the song was over and he was holding your hand up as he smiled at the crowd who was cheering.

After That it was kinda a blur but, what you do remember is the spider pulling you into his dressing room locking the door behind him. You guys ended up on his camel back sofa with his legs wrapped around your torso and arms all over the place. Your kissing was nothing calm nor romantic, it was messy and lustful. “The moment I saw you had me feeling things yah know that toots?” Angel spoke between a mouthful of kisses. You guys didn’t stop as you moaned in his mouth. Infatuated with one another the positioning stayed more or less the same as his head rested on the cushion of the couch and you on top of him with heavy breathing. His legs stayed wrapped around you as one pair of his hands reached towards your pants rubbing against the bulge that had been formed. It didn’t take long to remove your lower clothing and the dress Angel had been wearing. Of course he had a one piece so now he was completely bare in front of you and god, he looked even better without any of the intricate clothing designs covering his fur. Your hands were on his wait as you two began to kiss again. It felt so much messier than it did a few minutes ago. But, even not fully getting into it yet, you knew Angel was experienced from the way he moved and talked, you don’t know if that made you nervous or even more turned on but, when you’ve had everything that’s happened to tonight happen, it all kinda mushes together. While you continued to be interlinked with one another Angel’s upper pair of arms reached into a drawer near the sofa pulling out a bottle and condom. While he was opening the bottle you had been handed the condom. Neither of you wanted to pull away from each other even when needing to prep yourselves.

Angel was surprisingly quick to get ready (partly because he starts before every performance-) but, as you were both ready he guided you now, leaking a tip to him. As you had started to enter inside your grip naturally tightened and he was wrapped around you. When you had bottomed out both of you let out a moan and Angel’s top pair of arms firmly latched onto your shoulders. That’s when you did one slow thrust, then another, and another, before you knew it your pace had become fast and deep, which Angel loved. He moaned telling you to keep it just like that as you then hit his g spot. He wanted to fucking scream, and the sound he made was plenty enough to make you come on sight. One of you guys cursed, you're not sure who, maybe it was both of you as you went through your orgasm. And not long after Angel also had one of his own. You just stayed inside him for a bit before pulling out and laying against the head of the sofa in a sweat. While you had been waiting for Angel to kick you out or something he got up to hang up his dress and looked over to you not even seeming to be exhausted. “So toots, you wanna do a round two?”

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ellewritesalright · 1 month

Text

The Lost Princess - Part 1

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Synopsis: The old Queen Mother of Kerch's former royal family is offering a hefty reward to whoever returns her rumored-to-be-alive granddaughter to her. Kaz being Kaz hears about the reward and hatches an elaborate plot involving a fake princess. Reader is a lowly amnesiac orphan and escaped indenture who flees to Ketterdam where she gets tangled in Kaz Brekker's plot.

A/N: Hello friends!! Here is part one of a series I started writing a few years back but never published. It's inspired by the movie and musical Anastasia. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope it makes enough sense haha

Warnings: sickness, mentions of death, mentions of drowning, mentions of violence. pls let me know if I've missed anything

Word Count: 2056

..........

It was happening again.

You sat upright in the bed of your cheap lodgings, swinging your legs to the side and touching the floor. The threadbare rug was itchy against your toes as you took deep breaths, a desperate attempt at grounding yourself. Still, the dizziness did not subside. It came along every so often, never without the cryptic nightmares. There was always vertigo and memories of plunging into dark waters.

At least, you thought they must be memories. There was a significant gap in your mind from birth to the age of about ten, and the first thing you could remember was waking up on a fishing boat on the True Sea. The fishers handed you over to their boss, a wealthy merchant named Devisser, once you made port, and you were made to work for him in a fifteen-year indenture. You had worked as a scullery maid in that man's second home on the southern shores, but you managed to escape your indenture five years early, running off to Ketterdam.

Nowadays you were free to do whatever you pleased--if it was within budget, of course. You had precious little in your life, and you couldn't squander your money in the gambling dens of the city.

You had to be smart if you were to make it to Os Kervo. Another maid at the house had said that there was a better chance of smuggling yourself to Novyi Zem than to find a safe passage to Ravka, but you didn't let her sway you. You had to get to Os Kervo. It was difficult to explain, but you felt instinctively that someone was waiting there for you. In your dreams, the better and brighter ones where you could feel the warmth of arms around you, there was a voice that whispered, "I'll meet you there, my little tiger. We'll be together in Os Kervo."

The only trouble was how you could get there. You had no travel papers or identification, and it was difficult to obtain any--even fake ones--with such little money. It was a difficult position you were in.

So you went about your life, picking up odd jobs using fake names. Your name is already fake as it was. The surname, Vos, was given to you by one of the more kind fishers who pulled you from the water. He gathered a mound of blankets around you and sat with his arm around you, trying desperately to keep you warm. Sometimes you wondered about him, wondered whether he was still fishing for Devisser. Perhaps if the captain of that ship had not seen fit to hand you over to their boss the kind fisher would have taken you in. Life might have been better if you had been offered a chance at a family instead of an apron and a crushing daily workload.

Your feet carried you to the wardrobe in this shabby lodging room. You had to sweep a spider off your jacket before you slipped it on. The morning air was a nice reprieve against your warm face as you walked down the streets. Shops were opening, food vendors were starting the fire in their ovens; Ketterdam was waking up.

You meant to walk further than the Barrel, but you stopped as you saw the window of some sort of pawn shop. There was a dress in the window. It was the emerald green of a kind of fabric you had never owned but knew instinctively would be smooth to the touch, like a flat stone one might skip on the ocean. There was something so familiar about the short ruffles of the over-the-shoulder sleeves; perhaps you had seen a guest at the big house wearing something similar when you used to spy from the door to the servant's quarters.

There was no way you would be able to purchase such a beautiful gown, you barely had enough money to get by as it was, but you were drawn into the shop because of it. You had to spend some more time around it and the other beautiful items in the shop. You hadn't been around such lavish things since… well, never.

The bell above the shop door jangled, alerting a woman at the counter to your appearance. She smiled, but the sight struck you in the chest. As an amnesiac orphan, you learned early on that people saw you as weak, helpless, and naive. For your youth and lack of guidance, you were perceived as easy pickings, and people tried their tricks on you more often than you could count, especially here in Ketterdam. You'd learned to tell what was genuine and what was fake when you interacted with others, and the woman's smile was the first real smile you'd seen in a long time.

"A beautiful dress for a beautiful young lady," the woman said.

You shook your head with a pleasant enough smile. "I was just looking. I could never afford such a thing."

"And yet here you are in my shop." She followed your eyes to a case of assorted valuables. When she saw the dull music box you stared at she hummed. "Would you like to know a secret?" You turned to her "That music box is from the old palace. It belonged to the missing princess herself, I swear on Ghezen and the saints."

You pondered the validity of her words, keeping a level expression so as not to upset her with your doubt. Everything you heard about the dead royal family seemed like it happened a lifetime ago, and no amount of rumours about one of their daughters being alive somewhere would make it any less a ghost story.

Still, you smiled politely. Despite her pleasant expression, she was only trying to sell you something, something you would not need even if you could have it. It wasn't even the most eye-catching thing in the display, just a decrepit old music box of tarnished silver. The music probably didn't even play anymore.

"It's lovely," you lied, "though I don't believe I could afford it."

"I could give you a special deal. I like to think there's something in my shop for everyone. The music box deserves to go home with you."

"That's generous, but--truly--I cannot make a purchase."

She tilted her head at you. "What is it you want, my dear? You've come into my shop, looked around, and you have the nerve to refuse my generosity--what is holding you back?"

"I've already told you," you said, "I couldn't afford it."

"And if I gave something for free?"

You brushed her off. "That's a terrible business model."

"Perhaps. But I like you, little runaway that you are. You're a long way from home--you deserve something nice."

You felt your pulse quicken. She shouldn't have known that. You weren't on the list of runaway indentures, so the stadwatch wouldn’t be looking for you. You breathed in before you could turn to her, balancing your composure with great care. Emotions were not useful in situations like this. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

"You keep your head down, which is normal in the Barrel, but you're not doing it out of habit, you're doing it out of fear. You must be hiding from something--from someone."

She was apt, you'd give her that. The trouble was figuring out the degree to which you could trust her. She could sell you back to Devisser in a second if she wanted to, but she could also be willing to help you. After all, she did say she liked you. You looked her in the eyes and then spoke.

"I'm trying to get to Ravka. The thing is, I don't have the money for travel papers, be they legal or illegal. I can't afford even that, and I could never afford anything in your shop." You straightened out, about to leave. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time--"

"Brekker can help you."

You stopped in your tracks.

“He can get you to Ravka, no travel papers necessary.”

You faced her again, questioning, “Where can I find this Brekker?”

“He owns a club down the road from here. The sign has one of those annoying blackbirds on it.”

“A raven?”

“No, a pesky crow.” She fiddled with a set of keys around her neck. “Anyways, he can help you on your way. I assure you.”

“How much will this information cost me?”

“Nothing, my dear. I hope you make it to Ravka.”

You thanked her, ducking your head as you left the shop. You kept a wary eye about you as you wove through the streets, finding your way back to your lodgings. There was little trust in such a wicked city as Ketterdam, specifically here in the barrel, and you were constantly looking out for any sign of danger. The shopkeeper wasn’t dangerous, not from what you could tell, but you had to keep your wits. One false move and you could be sent back to Devisser.

You couldn’t let that happen.

..........

Kaz stepped out from the back of the shop after the bell above the door rang out once more, signifying your departure. He was lucky to have been behind a particularly packed shelf furthest from the door, else you would have seen him and wouldn’t have explained your plan to Eugenia, the shopkeeper. Eugenia, for her part, did well to nudge you in the direction of the Crow Club. Undoubtedly she would want some credit for that, he knew. And, just as he thought, she brought it up as soon as he reappeared.

"I've found your missing princess for you, Kaz," Eugenia smirked. "And how valuable she'll be for you."

"You didn't do anything for me, Eugenia. She'll be just as impossible as the others," he retorted.

He'd been auditioning young women to play the part of the missing princess for months now. Ever since he'd heard of a hefty reward posed by the old duchess and grandmother to the princess, he'd devised a plan, learning everything he could about the toppled royal family.

"I think she's the one. Do you know why?"

He kept his stare neutral, but the disapproval remained on his lips in permanence. Eugenia liked to speak as though she knew best, leading tourists and tramps into traps as she sold them tin under the guise that it was rare silver. Even wisdom offered by her would be false.

She continued. "She'll play the part--and she'll be damn good at it--because she's desperate. Desperation makes us do what we otherwise would not."

He tilted a brow at her. "What do you want?"

"Waive six months of my rent," she said. There was no way she thought that he would accept this deal. He didn't even have confirmation that you would find him or that you would be willing to go through with his masquerade. Eugenia was a fool.

"If she is a good fit for the princess, I will waive one month of your rent," he bargained.

"Hold on, she is going to make you a million Kruge--I deserve more than a month for that."

Kaz frowned at her, leaning into his cane. Who was she to make demands? "Firstly, there's no guarantee that she can do the job. Secondly, even if she is a good fit, I don't owe you anything. You decided to send her to me before you thought to broker a deal; I don't owe you a thing."

She thumbed at her ring of keys. Eugenia was upset with herself and with him, he could tell.

"If she can play the part," Kaz said, straightening out, "I am willing to waive three months of your rent on the condition that you supply me with whatever I might need from this shop free of cost."

"Whatever you need for the job, right? I can't just give you anything you want from now on."

He nodded. "Just for the job. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal."

Kaz left the shop without the rent that he'd initially come to collect, but with something much more valuable if he played his cards right. He'd only caught a glimpse of you, but he was inclined to believe what Eugenia said. Desperation makes us do what we otherwise would not, and you had sounded plenty desperate.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Tags: @justvibbinghere @happyhauntt

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #the lost princess

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dyns33 · 3 months

Text

Firefly

I can't explain why but I like The Collector movies a lot, Asa Emory was a weird character, and so I needed to write something about him at least once

Y/N had met Asa Emory in college.

He already had this strange look and this fascination for insects, which explained his choice of studies. She had never met anyone who wanted to become an entomologist.

The other students were a little afraid of him, when they noticed him, because Asa was very discreet.

Y/N had noticed him, and she hadn’t been afraid of him. She had sat next to him in the library while he read a book about spiders. Her questions had initially seemed to irritate him, he was obviously not used to being spoken to, then he had been intrigued.

For a time, Asa had looked at her as if she were one of the insects he collected, but also as if she were trying to make fun of him. Yet he answered all her questions, adding more and more details and information.

He had no one in his life. No one to share your passion with. He didn't tell her all the details, but he had lost his parents and siblings when he was young.

This loneliness didn't seem to be a problem for him, but over time he got used to Y/N's presence, he looked forward to her questions, and he eventually grew attached.

“My firefly.” He greeted her as soon as he saw her, with a shy smile.

“Why a firefly ?” she asked, laughing softly.

“Because you are a light in my life.”

Y/N might have taken offense saying that a firefly was a tiny, fragile light that would die quickly, but knowing Asa's love of insects, she knew he wasn't going to compare her to a sun or stars. It was even a nice compliment on his part that he deigned to compare her to a Lampyris noctiluca.

Even when insulting people, he never used insect names. That would be an insult to the insects and he couldn't do that.

As with everything else in their relationship, it was Y/N who invited him on their first date. He accepted without seeming to understand what that meant.

The poor man seemed lost when she kissed him. But not necessarily disgusted.

“My firefly, you are the only human being who matters.” he admitted when she asked him if he ever thought about marriage, after more than two years together. "There are only a few insects that practice monogamy, but most die quickly, sometimes during the act of reproduction. But you know how much I hate anthropomorphism. I will be happy to spend my life with you."

Life with Asa was calm. Perfectly organized, structured, like its classification of all arthropod species.

After obtaining his diploma, he had no difficulty in being hired in the largest natural science museum in the city. His name quickly became known in his field.

His frequent nighttime outings and other prolonged outings could have been frightening for Y/N, but he always warned her in advance, preparing his schedule according to the pace of life of the insects he was looking for.

"Rumors are circulating about an unknown species of grasshoppers in a forest. I will probably be gone all weekend."

"Oh. You won't be here for my cousin's birthday ?"

"I forgot. Forgive me, my firefly."

“It doesn’t matter… It’s for your work, it’s important.”

He promised to better note the dates that were important to her, because even though he was very diligent in his work, Asa was a good husband. He didn't care at all about other humans, and therefore her family, but he always tried to please her when he could.

Even though he had a true admiration for spiders, Y/N saw him more as an ant. He worked hard, he never seemed tired, and he often brought home gifts to make up for when he missed an appointment, or simply because he wanted to see her smile.

"Ants don't bring back gifts for the queen, they do this to feed the colony. Plus they work in groups, I work alone."

“I didn’t compare myself to a queen.”

"You could, it was you who worked to create our home. There is no colony without a queen, and there would not be our home without you."

Their house was perfect, but empty. They didn't talk about having children. The subject didn't seem to appeal to Asa. After all this time, he did not talk about his family, visibly traumatized by their disappearance, and his aversion to others, in addition to his complicated schedule, were not compatible with the role of father.

There were his dogs. Perfectly trained hunting dogs, who were only adorable with their master and his wife. But especially with Y/N, who loved to cuddle them.

“My firefly, they have already eaten and they are not allowed to be inside.”

"Oh, Asa, please ! It's cold outside, and they were very good !"

“You mustn’t get them used to it or they will become fat and lazy.”

“Only for tonight, please !”

His colleagues said he was tough. A cold, distant, almost mean man. It was quickly decided that he would no longer participate in school visits, because he did not know how to talk to children or teachers.

But with Y/N, he was gentle. He refused her nothing. The dogs stayed inside, and not just that evening.

The times Asa told her no, it wasn't his fault. The excuses he found always contained the words 'I would like to, but the museum, my colleagues, the insects…'.

No, she couldn't accompany him on his hunts. She wouldn't like it anyway. It was cold, there was almost no time to sleep, and she might be bored.

“I’ll be with you, that’s the most important thing.”

".. .It's always a joy to be with you. That's also why it's better if you don't come. Then I have a reason to come home."

And he always came home, tired, but satisfied with his work, placing a kiss on Y/N's forehead like a ritual, before caressing her cheek while looking at her as if seeing her for the first time, his eyes wide blacks seeming to devour her entirely.

Then came the night when he came home late, very late, with strange injuries and terribly angry. Growling like an animal, he slammed the door so hard that it woke his wife. She found him trying to stitch himself up, mumbling and shaking.

She had never seen him like this. Asa was always calm.

Hesitantly, Y/N asked him if he was okay, and when he looked at her, she was scared for the first time since they met. For a moment, he looked like he didn't recognize her, and was ready to jump on her. Then he took on the features of her husband.

"… My firefly." he sighed, getting up with difficulty to kiss her. "I woke you up. I scared you. Forgive me. There was an incident. I lost several very precious, unique species. But it's my fault, you don't have to suffer my bad mood."

“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital ?”

"It's okay, I promise. Scratches, nothing I can't fix myself. Go back to bed, I'll be with you right away."

Nothing forced her to obey. Y/N could have insisted, asked questions, called an ambulance, but she returned to the room, staring at the wall unable to sleep. She didn't move when Asa came to her, holding her close, his face against her neck, whispering that he loved her.

They talked about the incident in the neighboring town the next day on television. An abandoned factory was ravaged by flames. But that wasn't the worst. It was the lair of a serial killer, whom they called the Collector.

The survivors spoke of horrible things. Of torture, of strange experiences. According to police, the man had died in the fire along with his guard dogs and most of the evidence there was nothing left to fear.

Y/N didn’t ask Asa where the dogs were. She tried not to think about it.

If he was waiting for her to ask him about it, he didn't show it. He didn't talk about what happened during the night, behaving as if everything was perfectly fine, and going to work like every day. He would come home, he would kiss her, and he would do it again. The difference was only that he went out less often.

According to him, the season was not good for hunting. And with the problem at his office, he needed a little time, to rest, to repair the place.

This excuse could have worked forever. Of course, Y/N could have called the museum and they would have confirmed that there had never been any serious incidents, but she didn't want to. She continued to lie next to her husband, letting him embrace her tenderly.

Then there was the man's visit. He seemed surprised to see Y/N, as he placed a large red trunk in the kitchen. Almost sad too. He was holding a gun.

"I imagine you don't know anything about it. I can let you go, if you promise not to warn him, and to let me do what I have to do."

"… I don't understand what to talk to you about."

"Your dear husband. The man who kidnapped and tortured me for weeks. You're lucky you didn't see his little collection. He's a monster. He needs to die."

No doubt the man was right. There had always been something strange about Asa, everyone had always known it and Y/N had been the only one to refuse to see it. She had built her life with him, her home. They had to share everything.

So even if he was right, she without thinking grabbed a knife when he turned, convinced that she had understood and she stuck it in his back, at the level of his heart.

When she realized what she had just done, it was too late. The man was lying in his blood in the middle of the room, his gun fallen next to him. Y/N touched nothing, unable to do anything but cry while trying to remember how to breathe.

Asa found her like this, sitting against a wall, when he returned from the office. He looked at his wife, then at the scene in the kitchen, before putting his things down to crouch down next to her.

Like every times, he held her face so that she could look at him and he could kiss her on the forehead. Then with one hand he wiped the blood from her cheek, massaging her neck with the other to calm her down.

"Tell me what happened. Are you hurt, my firefly ?"

"No… He… He wanted to kill you. He said… Oh, my god. He had a gun, I… I was scared… He said you… Asa …"

"Shh. I'll take care of everything. Come on."

Holding her close, he took her to the bathroom where he helped her undress and get into the shower, which he adjusted so that the water was perfect. Taking a bath would have done her good, but he had to leave her alone to clean up, and he didn't want her to fall asleep.

"I'll be back, my firefly. Just sit here, it's okay."

Y/N didn't know how long she stayed under the water, shaking and crying. Not as long as she thought. Her husband quickly returned to help her get up, dry off and put on pajamas.

Although she was not hungry, he insisted that she have tea and biscuits, as it was not good to keep an empty stomach after such a shock, before putting her to bed. He certainly put something in the tea for her to sleep.

The kitchen was immaculate the next morning, as if nothing had happened. The man, the weapon, the red trunk, everything had disappeared.

Unusually, Asa had prepared breakfast. He was always up before her, but he only had coffee, and he often left for work while she was still asleep, coming to place a kiss on her forehead to warn her.

His dark eyes didn't leave her for a second as Y/N chewed her pancakes with difficulty, one hand on the glass of orange juice that she couldn't drink. She looked everywhere except her husband.

Before the intruder spoke, she had already started to have doubts. Questions. Now everything was quite clear, and all that remained was to decide what she was going to do. Asa was also obviously waiting, sitting near her.

The options were vast. Run away, call the police, risk getting killed… Y/N finally managed to lift the glass of orange juice, while thinking of their meeting.

"… Aren't you going to be late for work ?"

"No. I took some time off to stay with you."

“But your collection… I understood that it would take a long time to rebuild everything.”

"It's not as important as you, my firefly. My mantis religiosa. My black widow." he purred, running a hand through her hair, his lips on her neck.

Asa loved spiders. It was a nice compliment, even if she received it because she had killed a man and agreed not to report him to the authorities. He didn't seem to notice her fear, one of the reasons she remained silent.

Only the other reason mattered. And by giving her all these names, like a transformation, he was telling her that he would not harm her, that he did not see her as prey, and that even if she decided to do so, she could devour him.

#the collector #the collection #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa emory fanfiction #slashers

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indecisiveoverthinking · 3 months

Note

I like to think the player has a small picture of them and their child(ren) in their pocket and pull it out to keep them going after a battle or when they get to a new floor. I wonder how the mascots would react to them doing that or if it fell out during a battle that let them get a glimpse of it, the player looking so happy while holding their just as happy child(ren), before they hastily snatched it back up as if on instinct.

I had the same thought as well!

Banban

He already knew that the player is here for their child(ren), and it was no surprise when he saw them looking at a picture of them and their child(ren). Despite everything that had happened between the two, he tries his best to help.

He would offer the player words of encouragement, as well as to remind them that he'll help no matter what. He'd also mention the picture, and if possible, he'd like to take a look at it. No, he won't take it from them. He's a trustworthy mascot.

Nabnab

The spider mascot probably had no idea why they're here, but after accidentally spotting them looking at the picture, he probably felt their loneliness. As an attempt to comfort them, he just crawls over and gives them a pat on the shoulder.

He had seen people doing it before, so he thought it was the best way to comfort them. At least he tried.

Banbaleena

For Banbaleena, I'm sure that she probably overheard the player's conversation between Banban about their child(ren). She's quite surprised about it.

I think she'd comfort the player and give them the warmest hugs, as well as not to talk about the said picture. She was sure that they'd be uncomfortable if mentioned.

Also, she'd give Banban a punch because she thought that one of the best ways to comfort someone is to give them hugs and NOT to bring up a sensitive topic.

Queen Bouncelia

Although Queen Bouncelia just met the player not too long ago, she knew why they're here. And like Banbaleena, she won't bring up about the picture, knowing it's a sensitive topic. She has many questions, yes, but won't ask them.

The least she could do was to wish them luck in finding their child(ren) and to be safe. She'd be rooting for them.

Stinger Flynn

This jellyfish will bring up the picture. What do ya expect from him? He told them to leave while they still could, yet they didn't listen. And of course, he'd tell them it's their fault, should've leave and bla bla bla, all that. He will not sugarcoat the situation either. Accept the harsh truth.

But despite all that, he'd do small things to help the player ease their stress. Lost their key card? He would simply hand the said key card because he found it nearby. Sleeping? He'll drape a blanket over the player. Tired? Like the game, he makes them fall asleep(so they can have enough energy to survive the next floor).

Sheriff Toadster

When Toadster saw the player looking at the picture of them and their child(ren), it reminded him when he was thrown down to the 4th floor. They were both lonely.

He knew it was unhealthy to bottle emotions, so he did a rational thing anyone could've done. He hugs them. Even if the player fights back, he'd keep them in his embrace. He wants them to spill all their bottled up frustration and worry. He did it before and knew it would work. And before he even knew it, the player had stopped and hugged him back while crying.

Bittergiggle

I would think that he's the type to try and make the player feel better by doing something funny and entertaining. Like Banbaleena and Queen Bouncelia, he knew it was a sensitive topic, and it would make them uncomfortable if he ever mentioned about the picture.

He'd try his best to make the player happy, even if it's just a bit. He'll do funny tricks, like making his snake lip sync to his talking, or even do those magic tricks kids know. Sometimes, when he finds something, he hands it to the player. Like candy, instant noodles(most of them are likely to have expired), or things that reminded them of the player( a toy or probably a drawing he did).

Unfortunately, I didn't really have many ideas for the other characters in the game, I apologise for that. I'm not the best at explaining either, and I apologise for that as well :<

#art #self insert #garten of banban #garten of banban fanart #garten of banban x reader #banban fanart #nabnab #banbaleena #queen bouncelia #stinger flynn #sheriff toadster #bittergiggle

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sykestarot · 4 months

Text

what transformations will happen for you in 2024

1-2-3 (left to right)

I DO NOT OWN THESE IMAGES

Hi guys! I took a break due to the holidays but I hope all of you guys had a great holiday and new year!! Thanks for stopping by and enjoy!

Pile 1

"are there still beautiful things?" (Temperance; The High Priestess (rx); two of swords (rx); page of swords; The Star; queen of cups (rx)) Hi pile 1 for you guys I feel a very youthful energy, maybe you just graduated highschool? I feel a sudden sense of responsibility that’s washed over you. Like life has just begun but you long so much to go back to a simpler time. Even if you are older and have been out of high school for some years I can see you being stuck in a corporate machine and working long hours just to not enjoy life outside of work. For the people who chose this pile that are older you’re struggling with work life balance and that this year that can be changed. I see you being able to go on vacation and relax with family this year. For the people who have just graduated high school I see you are feeling like you won’t be able to handle the balance of adult life or working like that. For you I see that you’ll do just fine and you should remember that no one was just perfect at being an adult right out of the gate. Everyone makes mistakes but few learn from them. Let yourself learn from your mistakes, don't let your ego get in the way of your growth. As far as this pile goes I see that you are in the very beginning of your transformations and you will be frustrated but it will all workout in the end. You will be able to transform and grow the way that you feel like you need to. For this reading I also pulled out some messages from your guides from an oracle deck! For you guys there is “Be Peace”, “Make your dreams real”, “be open to compromise”, and “give yourself time”. Your guides want to tell you to be open and patient. They believe in you even when you don't, so please continue to work hard. If others in your waking don’t believe in what you’re doing you have to be your biggest fan! Also remember to take deep breaths!! Signs: growing up; major milestones; bare feet in dirt; balance; ying yang (tattoo?); cycles; circle of life; less freedom; tired; doves; spiders; spider webs; pearls; purple; 9

Pile 2

(10 of cups; The Star; queen of pentacles; queen of wands; 10 of swords; 3 of pentacles) Hi Pile 2! For this pile I am getting that what will transform the most in your life is the way you approach relationships. I feel like you didn't want your 2024 transformations to be centered around other people and that's not necessarily what this message means. For you I see that you've hung onto people who aren't good for you for a long time and its time to let them leave if they want . I see that your idea of love is giving yourself away so much that you don't even remember who you are anymore. So in that way changing how you approach relationships will actually serve you by bringing you closer to your soul and who you are without outer validation. Which is such an albeit cool journey to be on it is painful as well, but I see you turning all the pain and suffering into strength to persevere. I feel as though you lost your identity and individualism in a group were a part of. I also feel like you have always wanted to go back to how you were before them, but there is no going back, only going forward and creating new. You can always pull inspiration from the past and incorporate it in the future but you won't be able to be exactly who you were before and that in itself is okay. I feel so much pain in you pile 2 because of what others have done to you, you feel like you will always be the person you are, but you don't have to be. you always have the free will and the choice to change. Stay strong! For this reading I also pulled out some messages from your guides! Your guides Pile 2, want you to remember how much you can rely on the universe and how much you yourself create! (“magic works through you”; “the abundant universe will provide”) I also see that they highly encourage you to stand your ground and keep your boundaries when others ask you to do things for them that you are either uncomfortable with or just plainly don’t want to do! Your guides really love you and feel so sad with the way you feel about yourself. Sending you love and light pile 2! <3 Signs: green; fresh cut grass; 777; fresh crisp air; fresh rain; fresh; apples; breeze; scenic views; iron gate; the ocean from far away

Pile 3

"but things are just different since she cut her blue hair off"

(7 of swords; The Lovers; page of pentacles (rx); page of wands; 8 of pentacles; king of swords (rx)) Hi pile 3! So for your pile I see as far as transformations go you also have a sense of responsibility this year or a need to grow up. I feel like you guys are still young but not fresh out of high school young. I get maybe mid to late twenties. For you guys I see that you are tired of working at passion projects and feel the need to get a “big girl/boy job”. I feel like most of you have degrees in something but you didn’t like the fields and ended up chasing other dreams, but because they haven’t worked out you’re ready to surrender and go to the career that you chose to study in. Or maybe you just continued to go to the minimum wage job you had because you knew everybody and the money was easy and the situation of everything was comfortable to you. But if that’s the case I see you itching for something different and more mature. For you I feel like the idea of working in a corporate job was actually the signifier that your youth was over. LOL. I feel now though that your ready for this change and you might be fighting with yourself that you won’t be as fun anymore because of where you’ll be working, but that’s just not true. Just because your job will change doesn’t mean your identity will. Anyways for you guys I feel a much more lighthearted energy because I feel as though you’ve been anticipating it and already been sitting in your cocoon for a minute just waiting for the right moment to emerge with your beautiful wings! Good job pile 3, keep it up!! For this reading I pulled messages from your guides as well! For you guys I see that your guides are encouraging you to take the lead and be an active participant in the change that happens in your life. They also are insistent that there will be a rebirth in your life and as I said earlier I feel like you are aware of it to some degree if not fully. (“take the lead”; “a rebirth is assured”) I also see them emphasizing not to listen to others telling you not to make this change and that their words only hurt your ego and not to let them have too much of an effect on your choices, as well as taking time to think before you do anything is recommended! Signs: carnival; pier; plushies; tattoos; patterned tights; two high ponytails; black lipstick; alternative fashion; cats; hearts

#spotify #pick a card reading #reading tarot #channeled message #channeled song #channeling #divination #law of attraction #pac #pap #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #intuitive #intuition #channeled art

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runningmunson · 2 years

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My Fierce Lady - Part 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.7k Summary: After the events of your attack, you felt helpless. You asked Aemond to teach you to fight so you can gain some control back into your life and finally feel brave. Part 2 of My Fierce Lady. Warnings: traumatized reader, mentions of previous attack, use of a sword, slight angst, fluff, soft Aemond

Masterlist

Agony. You were in agony. Everything had been so different since you were attacked and forced to take a man’s life. Anyone would change if it had happened to them, you believed. Aemond reminded you daily that you are strong and brave, that you and your children were still alive and breathing, and that the man was in the ground where he belonged because of you. Yet you still lived in fear every day, terrified that someone would strike again, but you wouldn’t be so lucky.

That’s not to say that your husband and his family didn't try to make you feel safe. Your personal guards had been doubled. You were seldom left alone. You wouldn't step into your chambers, so they allowed you to move rooms. They exhausted resources to find whoever plotted to attack the Targaryen household. However, their attempts were futile. They never found who did it, and no matter what they did, you never truly felt safe.

Nightmares often plagued you. Too many nights you dreamed of Maelehra being murdered. You soon followed, only to be woken screaming and crying in the arms of Aemond as he tried to calm you. Your stress and anxiety were so severe that the maester put you on bed rest until the birth of your son.

You thought things would be better after you brought your son, Rhaegar, into the world, basking in the joys of a newborn, a male heir for your husband. You were sorely mistaken. The maester chalked it up to melancholy as your body adjusted to a new state of motherhood. The royal family tried to keep it hidden. Everything was always kept in the family, never wanted to reveal their personal weaknesses to outsiders. But it was hard to ignore the whispers around the Red Keep with rumors of you going crazy and behaving worse than your sister-in-law, Helaena.

You spent a lot of time with Helaena in her chambers, doing needlework as your children played on the floor together with the nannies. Rhaegar was usually fast asleep in his cradle. You had a feeling your mother-in-law, the Queen, had something to do with your time spent behind closed doors, not that you minded too much. You dearly loved Helaena and preferred her company over the other ladies in court.

—

For once, you were having a good day. Your anxiety was at bay and manageable. The children were behaving excellently. You knew everyone was safe, and you finally settled in once you checked several times that there were two guards outside the door.

“That looks quite lovely, sister! You stitch our sigil far better than I could,” Helaena’s eyes were wide as she smiled brightly, complimenting your work. You were working on embroidering the Targaryen sigil on a new dress for Mae.

“That is very kind of you to say. Your spider looks exquisite,” you smiled back at her. You genuinely meant it. While you did not share the same affinity for insects, you were always enthusiastic about her interests and ready to learn.

“Thank you, it’s a zebra spider. We have these in our garden,” she replied, then returned to her work.

It was relatively quiet in the room, with an occasional sound coming from the children. All your focus was on the dress until your concentration was broken. The door opened without anyone knocking, and an unknown man stepped inside the room.

You immediately stood up, a scream slipped from your lips. It startled your son awake, and he started crying. Your heart was racing, and you felt as if you could be sick. No, you thought, this cannot be happening again. As quick as you stood, you backed into a corner. You sat down with your hands over your ears and eyes tightly squeezed shut.

Helaena shooed the man out of the room and told the nannies to remove the children. She slowly approached you, afraid to disturb you even more. You could see her mouth moving but heard no sound. The only thing you could hear was ringing. Tears welled up in your eyes. She turned to the guards and demanded they go get her brother at once.

Aemond made his way to his sister’s chambers in record time. “I am so sorry, Aemond. It was a new servant, he didn't knock first.”

“It’s fine, Helaena.” He looked at you, seeing you in a catatonic-like state. Your hands had not moved from their spot on your head, but your eyes were now wide open, blankly staring at the wall. It made him angry to see you as a shell of what you once were, no longer the carefree and lively woman he fell in love with. He turned to his sister, “May you give us some space please?”

Helaena left the room, and Aemond made his way to you. He crouched down, blocking your vision of the wall. Your eyes finally focused when you saw your husband in front of you and not another stranger coming to kill you. He reached up to take your hands off your face, noticing the scratch marks your nails left behind. With your hands in his, he gently kissed the back of both.

“I’m here now, love. I got you. You are safe. Nothing is going to hurt you,” he spoke in a soft, calming voice- one reserved for only you and your children. The words he spoke were familiar as he often said these like a mantra in the dark of your room after your nightmares. You threw yourself in his arms, catching him off guard as he almost fell. He steadied himself and pulled you in close, once more repeating those words.

When your heart was steady and mind clear, he pulled you up to the ground and led you to the comforts of your own chamber. As soon as the door was shut, you turned to him.

“I cannot do this any longer,” you said to him, voice cracking in desperation.

“Do what, my dear?” he questioned.

“Live in fear, no longer feeling safe in my own home. I wish to be free of this anguish! I want to feel as brave as you say I am. I want you to teach me how to fight,” you said to him. It was something you had thought about for some time but too afraid to address until now.

“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly.

You knew it was unbecoming of a lady such as yourself to fight, but you were at a complete loss at what to do. It wasn’t as if Aemond thought that of you though. He always believed you could do anything you wanted. He never tried to control you or put you in your place unlike the other men of the court. Fighting could be dangerous, and he just wanted to protect you.

“Please, Aemond. I need this. If you love me, you will grant me this wish,” you begged him, grabbing his hands and looking into his eye. You needed nothing more than to gain back some control of your life.

He nodded his head, “Then I will do just that, I promise you.”

—

Aemond led you to an empty room in the castle. You were adorned in pants and a tunic, your hair in a single braid falling down your back. He was finally going to teach you how to fight with a sword.

When you made your way into the room, he shut the door behind you for privacy. You noticed a few weapons were already laid on a table. There was a dummy filled with sand in the middle of the room as well.

“Now, today we will learn the basics of defense, just a simple thrust and slice. Let’s go pick you a sword,” he walked over to the table. and you followed. You knew how heavy swords could be, having handled Aemond’s sword once to see what it was like and almost dropped it in the process.

He handed you several, having you do a few mock swings to see which one felt best in your hands. You picked a lighter sword, the blade a typical silver color with a black and red hilt. The pommel housed a blue jewel. How fitting, you thought when you noticed it was similar in color to the sapphire where your husband’s eye once was.

When you were satisfied with your choice, you made your way to the middle of the room where Aemond was waiting. With the sword placed tightly in your hand, he led you into the proper stance. He used his leg to move your feet where he wanted them. His back found its way flush against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist to straighten you out. The other helped you hold your sword to the correct height, pointing to where you needed to strike. Whiffs of your scent flooded his nose as he held you close. You were disappointed when he pulled away.

“Alright, keep that stance. This should be an easy one. Draw your arm back and simply thrust it forward,” he said, his hands placed firmly behind your back. He was intensely watching your every move, making you a bit nervous. You drew back the sword and plunged it into the chest of the dummy. When you removed the sword, sand spilled on the ground.

“Good, you have just defended yourself. Now put yourself back into the same position, and I’ll show you how to slice,” he explained the movements once more and let you do your thing.

You stood the way he told you, doing a spin to gain momentum before slicing either side of the dummy. Once more, sand flowed from the cuts. Aemond started clapping. You turned to smile at him, finally starting to feel a small amount of control for the first time since your attack.

“My, oh my. Who knew the Gods blessed me with a wife who is a natural in the art of the sword,” he smiled, looking proud.

You laughed, “ Well, I have watched you practice in the courtyard often, my dear husband. Maybe I can be as good as you one day.”

“I’ll make a fighter out of you in no time, my fierce lady.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff

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neko-loogi · 1 month

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Here's my redesign for Angel Dust!

Alright so I didn't change his design all that much, although I feel like I may have made it a little more detailed by accident :(

But whatever, these redesigns are made for fun! Okay, so basically I changed Angel's outfit because I wanted him to look more like his original design (before the Pilot). Where he was more of a mobster instead of an oversexualized drag queen. In my opinion that original design was some of Viv's best work. That is until she changed it-

I also desaturated his color palette because I wanted something similar to his original design. And finally I added more spider-like features (such as mandibles and the abdomen on the back)

#by neko loogi #do not repost #loogi's art💚#enjoy my garbage #my art #anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin redesign #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse criticism #angel dust

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wmarximoff · 1 year

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𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

summary: because Wanda is unlucky enough to understands as much as you do about the responsibility of those with great power — and the losses that come with it.

warnings (18+): smut, angst, handjob, gender neutral reader has a penis, major character death. MINORS DNI.

pairing: emo!Wanda x spider!gn!reader

word count: 4k

masterlist|

(please, don't flag the work)

༺ᱬ༻

There was something gratifying you could point to in the idea that, propelling yourself into the air, climbing in that arachnid-like acrobatics with your own body to the zephyrs of frigid wind in furrows at that high enraptured speed, the world around you could well be so tiny and contained that it would even be deprived of external evils and annoyances when seen from above.

And you always watched it from above, from above, from the corners, in swaying webs, flight towards the urban labyrinth of a city marked by its own life, in a majestic and vigorous existence – a giant that shines even when the dusk of night falls, warm even in the face of a shroud of icy snow in the middle of that October winter.

Admittedly, the cosmopolitanly avant-garde structures that made up the metropolis of New York were sprawling, treacherous, and indeed even fragile, but the charm of the Big Apple was passed right over everyone else's heads, on the surface, when you didn't peer deep into the alley violence in that capitalist machine that encompassed you as much as it did any other New York passer-by.

Your distinguishing factor, however, your peculiarity, was that for many of those people you were a protector, a masked safeguard of their integrity in the face of the everyday hostility that the system so poorly failed to sustain. You were responsible for protecting the helpless, the underprivileged, the underserved, the mainstay of the marginalized and the forgotten. You were, in accordance with your moral duties, the friend of the neighborhood.

Swinging from one building to the next was part of the job at that point. Aerial locomotion became more practical and utilitarian when dealing with moving from one point to another between the skyscrapers that rose to the dark immensity of the night, like arrows shot to the top of the borough of Queens, where a kind of human spider like you moved upwards, climbing and shooting webs, leaving behind trampled footprints in the accumulated snow on the corners of the parapets and on the lightning rod antennas.

You propelling yourself into the dark sky, your muscle cords contracting, pumping blood, gusts of icy air sliding through the fabric of your dark mask, inflating the white eight-legged spider etching emblazoned on your torso. Feeling fucking alive.

In front of panes of glass, pale lights and hums, there was the frenzy of a city that never sleeps – in an intense rustling buzz, active and dynamic amid the white snow and the thousands of lighted lamps, with people carrying briefcases, with suits and ties and sheltered in heavy clothes, with children and with animals, alone or in packs, cars mottled on the white streets, advertisements flashing everywhere. Conversations meandering through the most disparate topics possible to parrot about, a veritable array of options.

Life was happening right below you, as you swung in a black and white suit over the tops of pylons and tall buildings, beads of icy sweat pouring down the length of your back, delirious ecstasy pulsing through your veins added to your warm, radioactive blood.

But, away from the noise of the night's bustle, your web swings that night were heading towards a final stop on an otherwise quiet round – a small apartment complex with thin walls, raised in stone and red brick and in poor plumbing, rather weather-beaten, with a rent worthy of the salary of a pizza delivery person (and part-time barista) like you in Northwest Queens. A place where you've resided since you found yourself being on your own, a little over a year ago, because you weren't exactly the lucky kind of kid.

However, no longer so far from the popular residence, huddled in an arachnid position right on top of the snowy tiles of a corner market, behind the acrylic lenses in the shape of tears, both your eyes compressed their lids in a comically expression, confused in a furrow of brows, since out of the glass of that window situated on the eighth floor were beams of a white lamp luminescence – and, as far as you held a knowledge in your memory, you had left your dwelling still by the end of that partially sunny afternoon, therefore, never having even turned on the lamps that day.

“Shit,” beneath the fabric of the mask you held your frigid breath, sharpening your senses into a state of alert.

It only took a single jump propelled by your lower limbs and an accurate web shot ejected from the shooter attached to your right wrist, aimed right at the edge of the building's terrace, for you to maneuver cautiously in the air, between the light poles, like an elusive feline to then crawling up the emergency stairs outside your living room window, peering in for a glimpse of who the intruder might be that would have crept into your residence while you were away, merging with the shadows that shrouded that cold night.

But the ice in your lungs soon softened into puddles of itself, and at what lay there, laid out for your view from within those four withered walls that encompassed the narrow cubicle you called home. Your heart pumped in liquid explosion inside your ribcage that spread to the pit of your stomach, taking everything in its path in a dizzying hot drag. And that's why a tiny silly smile allowed itself to be enjoyed by the commission of your lips, against the thin fabric of your mask – it was just a natural act for you, to smile foolishly at the splendorous vision of Wanda Maximoff.

The far view alone was enough for you to find yourself smiling and truly content at your core – Wanda lying on your own bed, between thick blankets and poorly stacked piles of pillows, so oblivious to the fact that she was being watched; the pale expanses of her ring-lined fingers so subtly being nibbled on by her teeth, her nails varnished by a black nail polish chipped at the tips, one opalescent knee crossed over the other next to her chest, her dark miniskirt exposing her firm thighs in a way just as appealing to your desiring gaze.

And you loved the fact that her brown hair modulated coffee-colored tones when arranged in the dead of night, only in the pale light of a lamp placed near the right end of the bed – how even though it seemed so dark in the confines of that room, Wanda glowed in her own light sweeping a strand of profuse chestnut hair behind the shell of her right ear, her ringlet gleaming silver, her gaze so intent on the little television set in front of her.

How her irises seemed to adhere to traces of a mossy hue so bleak out of the sun, yet almost bordering on the innocence of someone who was only enjoying a television program displayed on the squalid screen of the small television set that was placed in front of the opposite wall to the bed, just above a small second-hand wooden table.

Over her torso she wore an old dark sweatshirt of yours, made of thick, warm material, bought at a Hot Topic store a few years ago, when you were still in your high school years. And Wanda was beautiful – the owner of a casual beauty, a simple natural and simple neatness, the kind in which there is no effort to pretend to be pretty. A beauty that begins and ends with itself, just because she was beautiful. The most beautiful sight anyone's eyes could be graced with. The kind that made you feel lucky, lucky to have her for yourself.

But it was then that the cold came to haunt you in a gust of stiff wind, the frozen hand of winter tracing the vertebrae of your spine in a chilling contact on your epidermis, which gelled the blood flowing in your veins and turned your bones to ice. Only then did you realize the reality where you were hanging on the snowy emergency stairs outside your apartment, away from the warm weather and away from Wanda.

And so, with your gloved right hand, you managed to lift the window and head your way into the small room, stepping on the floorboards inside with your left foot.

“Hey little witch, are you breaking and entering now? And here I thought you were one of the good guys...”

“Y/n!” Wanda got pleased immediately and, from the bed, she turned with her chin towards your voice that came from the window, a smile emerging in the outline of those pink lips she had, then getting up to receive you properly.

“It's cold outside, get in quick! You're going to catch a cold!”

And her southeastern European accent, still bathed by the Adriatic Sea, made itself present in her low-toned speech, hardening the enunciation of that soft voice. That's why you smiled – the tone of Wanda's voice always warmed your loving chest.

“Fine, fine, I'm fine,” you muttered in an enthusiastic tone, bringing your left hand behind you down on the windowpane that prevented any more gusts of icy wind from piercing the blister of heat that had become infatuated through the walls of that small room.

“I'm in one piece, see? Healthy as a,” you smiled to yourself, “Well, as a spider.”

And a chaste smile flickered back between Wanda's lips, a hint of skin being scrunched across the bridge of her nose in an adorable way, “You're such a goof, web-head.”

So it was that the young woman came walking towards you, warm, smiling, with open arms to welcome you into her affections.

And you took her for yourself, pulling Wanda's body close to yours, whereupon clever fingers dressed in silver rings hooked on the seam cut of your mask right in the middle of your neck, slowly then hoisting it so that in front of the Wanda's gaze revealed the skin of your chin, and then the pulp of your lips; the jadish irises aimed at your mouth and, morosely, the young woman bent down to take a kiss from you herself.

You held her, groping your fingers around her waist, when it was that, in a dizzying, crimson electric shock, soaked in a jubilation of fiery delight, your lips touched in a prudish, measured way. It was a kiss of a simple nature, yet lingering on her lips and imbued with impetuous feelings – the need joined to longing, the happiness of a jovial and healthy love. Something in you just yearned to return to her arms every day, as if your soul fit hers like a jigsaw puzzle by your lips united in a single tune.

“Hi,” you lisped in the tiniest tone against her mouth.

“Hey, детка,” was Wanda's reply, who still had the hem of your mask pressed between her rings, before she hoisted her forearms up to her chin and completely removed the piece of cloth that covered your face expression as smiling as hers.

“I really love your eyes, Y/n.”

“I can say the same for you, my little witch.”

After a little simpler caress of love exchanged, more kisses and hugs and little oaths of longing, you two separated then in reluctance so that you would undress your cold spider suit, choosing to wear more casual clothes and comfortable on your body – a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of snug, vaguely baggy sweatpants. And while you were doing that, Wanda, sitting right on the edge of your bed, watched you in front of the tiny closet door nearby, where a small door opened onto a narrow, dark room with clothes hanging on hangers and a small yellow light dripping from the ceiling.

“I was looking over your crime board earlier, before you arrived, and...” as she talked, her chin was supplanted by the elbow resting on the right knee of her crossed legs.

“Mmm?”

Wanda looked at you for half a second, her face creasing in curiosity, “Who's Wilson Fisk?”

“Kingpin,” your voice was somewhat muffled by the dark shirt you were halfway pulling on over your head.

“He's one of the crime bosses around here, he's involved in some pretty serious shit around town,” at last, you tucked the shirt over your torso.

“And I've been on his tail for a few months now, but I need to get on with my work if I'm going to gather enough evidence to expose him to the public legally. It's going to be difficult since he has pretty much the entire political underworld in the palm of his hand and other stuff too, of course, but... but I think I'm getting somewhere with this, yeah.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “That sounds… kinda dangerous, Y/n,” Wanda sniffed with her nose to the side, speaking more to herself than to you per se.

“Maybe if you talked to Clint or Nat they could help you with that. Steve too, even. I know they are all willing to help you if you ask. Steve… you know, he’d really like you to take a chance and be on the team for a while. He thinks you'd make a good Avenger.”

"Yeah, I don't know about that, Wands," you muttered back, raising your right eyebrow at the idea.

“I don't think it's in the Avengers' niche to worry about that kind of thing, you know? I mean, you guys kind of exist to deal with out-of-the-galaxy threats and crazed AIs and evil government organizations and all that shit, don't you? And, well, Fisk is a pretty big fish in his own way, that's true... but he's just a stupid old bald guy who blackmails the local politicians and has created a criminal empire out of bribery and corruption – which is not it's very different from the billionaires we know out there. The difference is that Fisk is not a threat on a global scale.”

At the not-so-indirect burn to Stark Industries that couldn't be ignored, Wanda couldn't help but giggle infinitesimally under her breath, an act that elicited a goofy little smile from you, swaying your shoulders into your baggy blouse.

“Well,” she smiled a little too, in a kind of assent to your words, “You're not wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you turned your head toward her, as your right foot tucked into the seam of thick gray cotton sweatpants.

“Plus, I have this certain, umm, responsibility to the people of this town, I guess. It was a promise I made after all, I... I'm here for them, both to keep all that crazy shit from spilling over on them, and just to look out for them when no one else does. That's my job around here, my function. It's just what I do. I'm not a super spy, or a super soldier, a genius billionaire or a giant green strong guy, Wands. I’m, I’m only...”

“The friendly neighborhood web-head?”

At your roll of eyes, Wanda smirked, like a small rabbit with moderately larger front teeth than the rest.

“That's just mean, witchy. I really prefer Spidey, you know? Spidey.”

“Spidey,” the young enchantress reiterated to you, “Well, anything sounds better than the Witch anyway. That's so fucking pejorative, like, burn the witch or something, what the fuck. I’m not a fucking witch.”

“You aren’t?”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes out of their sockets comically.

“The Witch, huh…” you looked at her, almost laughing when you did, “People really aren't good at coming up with superhero names, are they? Because this one is really bad. Really bad.”

“No,” Wanda chuckled in agreement, shaking her head, “They're not, not at all. And I’m not a superhero.”

“I see,” you droned, “And what are you then?”

For a second, Wanda looked at you, “A unlucky person who has made a lot of bad choices in her life.”

The television, which was flashing some old episode of a sitcom that made up Wanda's favorite series collection, was the only thing that filled the room with any kind of light or sound some time later, since, after stuffing yourself with the chicken paprikash that your beloved had prepared for you and then packed and stored in your fridge, the two of you snuggled in each other's arms, away from the cold and the chill, under a thatched hut with thick blankets on your bed during that bitter winter night.

But it was when you turned in search of a comfortable position to lean back against the pillows and your left elbow brushed Wanda's right, that you two looked at each other curiously as if only then had you realized how close you encompassed each other – two dark gazes in the middle of the room lit only by the artificial lighting of a meaningless program, together, alone.

And you craved the comforting body heat that Wanda radiated when as close to her as you were – the scent of red that wafted from her silky ebony hair and her smooth, pale skin. You felt, however, a gaze peering into you from the line of your jaw and cheekbones, and looking back, Wanda was staring at you with a voluptuous fixation on the darkened green corners of her irises. She looked at you like she could completely consume you, like something about her was going to swallow you up and eat you down, digest you to the bones.

And then, from beneath the cocoon of blankets, a subtle touch spread across your left crotch, still above the thick material of your sweatpants. Your gaze sailed from the heap of blankets placed in the region of your lap to the emerald gaze, so dimmed, of the young woman sitting next to your left elbow.

“Wanda...”

“Mm?” she hummed back, as innocent as could be, as if her fingers weren't so close to groping an area of your body that was already beginning to throb with signs of life.

“Wanda,” you lisped softly, again, so needy, pupils popping and blood bristling through your veins, “What are you…?”

“I missed you, детка,” her fingers dipped deeper and deeper into your crotch, her eyes still screwed into your field of vision as she did so, “I missed you so, so much… I get so lonely in my room in the compound, you know? And all I can think about in those moments is you... how much I miss you.”

She locked her upper teeth against the flesh of her lower lip, stifling a lusty, immoral smile when she realized something – already petrified in a flash of desire, beneath the fabric of your pants, was your semi-erection, a noticeable bulge that made Wanda's mouth throb with desire.

"And I bet you miss me too, don't you?"

“Of course I do,” you huffed out a breath of warm air, “Fuck Wanda, every goddamn night… every goddamn night I miss you.”

The bright, lively hand, with thin fingers wrapped in rings and well-cut black nails, couldn't help but travel through the dazzling skin of your abdomen, exposed by the lifting of your long-sleeved blouse, starting from the south, from your navel, into your hips, into the hem of your pants. Wanda captured your thick member and gave your shaft an alluring squeeze – her face then hidden in the contour of your neck, in the joint of your shoulder, to nibble, there, a piece of skin.

“Uh-f-fuck, Wanda...” you squirmed out of your nostrils like steam released from your bruised lungs, in a hoarse wail, somewhat drunk with the acute excitement present in your system.

Wanda smiled against your skin, her thumb lethargic caressing the strained head of your cock inside your pants and, in performed innocence, she placed a chaste kiss on the bone at the tip of your jaw.

“Just enjoy it, malышка,” was whispered in her low voice right next to your ear, in an accent hard and robust, but so dizzying when it came out of the crack of Wanda's lips, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

And again, followed this time by a shameless tone of voice, leaking the red color from her pores, Wanda pressed the plump shaft between her slender fingers, causing a softness on your part. Following your moan, she placed a warm kiss behind your left ear.

“Allow me to make you feel good, Y/n.”

Wanda's right hand began its harassed, pleasurable work, up and down the length of your nervous member, raised to the intimate of your burning thighs – and you, wrapped in an embarrassed tremor, were exasperated as Wanda kissed your corner of the half-open mouth and the fluttering earlobe, threading your fingers through her brown locks as if it were a need between your hands, just in search of something to support yourself during that very intimate moment, shared by a couple of lovers as young and needy as you two were.

“Y/n,” she called against your cheekbone, “I… I'm sorry, but I want you inside. Now."

“Fine,” was your airy reply, “Fine.”

And without delay, Wanda passed her thighs over your knees, linking the folds of her elbows to your neck, then sitting on your lap so that a pink and expert tongue could slide inside your mouth as the damp, warm walls from her cunt slid around your erection. And then, one hefty, powerful touch, palms wide open and pressed to the flesh of her ass beneath her skirt, you screeched out of the outline of Wanda's lips a savory moan that squirmed from the very core of your lungs to pulsate against her lips during the carnal act of penetration.

“Бля, детка… тобі так добре, Y/n…” she gasped against the shell of your ear in a drawling semi-moan, “Y/n…”

"Do you like it?" was your question against her skin, to which, girding your cock with her velvety walls, Wanda nodded, bobbing her head up and down.

“I love it,” and, drunk on a wave of scarlet ledice, Wanda smiled, “I love you.”

You fell silent for a measly second, in fact barely realizing what had happened. Television still featured some sitcom that no longer mattered to you or even her, who was most attracted to the thing between you two – not being as close as you were in that primitive, carnal or even lewd way; skin with skin, flesh with flesh. Raw, visceral, passionate. It was cold outside, but your chest had never felt as warm as it did during that moment. She loved you. She loved you.

“You love me?”

Pulling her face away from your neck, Wanda looked at you with bright eyes from under thick, heavy lashes. She looked at you like no one else but her ever had before.

“I love you, детка,” was a whisper, a promise, “I love you, Y/n.”

When she started to go down everything became hazy, pulsing, hot, red. Wanda was moving up and down your body and you felt her backs arch convulsively, still continuing, creeping towards her cervix, rubbing her from the inside with the head of your cock.

And she rode you with such firmness, moaning and crying out, doing the penetration herself while your eyes converged in a single vision; Wanda moving up and down, over and over, seeking with her hips, until you both came in a delirium of dizzying pleasure; you pouring yourself inside her walls, into her flesh, and her thighs pale, wet, at the meeting with your hips. When she sighed wearily against the hollow of your neck, you smiled into a lock of her hair.

“I love you, little witch.”

It was perfect, you and her. So perfect that you pledged your love two or three more times that night, loving each other in the flesh, in the core, in the heart. Making you cling to the luck of having that miserable moment reserved for you and her, wanting to multiply it, make it last as long as possible.

It was as if, about a month or two after the event, already at the end of that winter suffered on a late December afternoon, Natasha Romanoff had not found herself leaving the corridors of the compound, walking stiff towards Wanda’s room, the soles of her boots full of soot and snow.

As if, among the strands of that short fire-colored hair, the residue of shards of sparkling glass did not shimmer after a painful fall – as if the Black Widow's lower lip were not found bloody and swollen after an arduous fight, as if she had not left a child to fight alone until it was too late for her interposition to mean anything decisive. As if Natasha hadn't been advised by Captain America to let Wanda, still as young, as damaged as she was, digest what happened, still so recent in the popular imagination, on her own.

“She's going to need some time, Nat,” pleaded Steve in a disgustingly grim tone, when they, he and she, were still sharing the elevator space just after returning from the big city with blood on their hands.

“Give Wanda a break, she's been through a lot. She doesn't need it right now. She’s… she’s just a kid. An unfortunate kid.”

But Natasha walked into Wanda's room in that snowy early evening, the emissary of news so atrocious that it had just left the streets, with blood and glass and corpses everywhere, a body count so tragic it could have had more, much lower if you hadn't intervened. Of course, you. But you weren't the one there to tell Wanda what the result of that fight with Wilson Fisk that Christmas Eve night had been. Natasha was the figure standing there, clutching the remains of your mask between the fingers of her right hand. It felt so pointless. As pointless as telling a young girl her lover was dead could be. Your mask felt meaningless.

“Wanda, I…I…”

But Wanda was nowhere to be found in her spacious bed after the Black Widow entered the room filled with posters on the walls and ceiling, stuffed animals arranged next to the pillows and the books piled orderly on the shelves. That was a young person's room, Natasha thought. Wanda was young. The television bolted to the wall adjacent to the window followed the live narration that portrayed a hideous explosion in Hell's Kitchen, where the fire department was still in the process of fully assessing the high and enigmatic number of lives claimed that night.

Wanda was in the bathroom, after all, when Natasha walked over — sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, threading her fingers through her long hair, scratching the scalp as she squinted at her burning eyes where tears were streaming from; sadness that marked her cheeks. She looked as small and as young as could be. And then it was that Natasha remembered. She realized, indeed, what had happened.

Carrying your spidery mask with her, Natasha remembered that both you and Wanda were really just a pair of unfortunate children, as she herself had once been too – children who carried greater responsibilities than you could even handle, with a maturity as mechanical and precocious as what the world demanded of you two. Children like her. Unlucky children.

“What… what– what am I going to do Nat…?” Wanda sobbed, still not lifting her eyes to the open crack in the door, where the older woman was standing, still bloody, still injured, “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”

And Natasha wanted to answer her. She wanted to, she opened her bruised lips to do so and then utter that speech she had already had in mind since she had held your body in her arms, still tucked inside that spider suit, in the snow and in the dark. But she immediately contained herself, refraining herself even before doing so, because that was when she saw it – prepared eyes spotted beside Wanda's so small and curved body a plastic rod with two lines marked in a baby pink color.

“Wanda… is... is that…?”

“I don’t know what to do,” she cried, “I don’t know, I don’t know…”

A pregnancy test of the kind one can buy at any local pharmacy, and the result was positive. And your mask was in her hands because you were gone. She was supposed to give it to Wanda as a reminder of your memory, but Wanda would have more to remember you by than a simple torn and bloody piece of cloth. She was pregnant after all. And you – you were dead. You were nothing but an unlucky dead bastard.

“I… I don't know,” Natasha's fingers tightened on the damn tattered fabric, “I'm so sorry, Wanda. I don't know… I don’t know.”

Wanda's tears, wide and warm, dripped between her bare feet on the pale bathroom floor tile. She had never felt so unlucky as she did at that moment.

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