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miguelhugger2099 · 1 month

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Here, Kitty Kitty

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is your world's Black Cat. A/N: me when there's no fanfic of miguel as black cat: fine, ill do it myself Art: Marbipa on twt

Miguel x Reader, No warnings, a little suggestive but that's it, Word Count: 2,535

Swinging on your webs, you hopped from building to building and made sure to to keep an eye out for any more crime during your patrol. You hoped that tonight would be a breeze but unfortunately, the life of a superhero will never rest. You landed by one of the police antennas and heard a call coming through their radios. Tilting your head, you focused on the frequencies to get a better signal. "All units be advised. We've got a call for a robbery in Lower Manhattan. Heading there now, requesting backup." You glanced up at the sky seeing the moon illuminate brightly. "I guess I could help the boys in blue." You shrug and thwip your web shooters, the silk spinning and sticking to another building before jumping off to gain momentum. You hauled yourself up after swinging, diving down between apartments and just barely slipping through a couple fire exits. You thought about who it might be this time. Maybe it was the Shocker again. Oh, he was always so easy to make fun of. No, that wasn't possible: you put him in prison. You just hoped it wasn't another one of Tombstone's men--they were always a little too cocky. Maybe just a couple of randoms trying to make extra cash the wrong way–a boring way to end the night but at least it'd be easy. You swung faster after hearing the sirens of police cars echoing throughout the night of New York. You saw a few police cars behind you and you giggled to yourself, playing a one sided game of who would get there faster. Always the competitive one you were, you stuck your webs onto two poles and pulled back so hard that they bent slightly. Your forearms burned until you let go, slingshotting yourself in the sky and allowing yourself to glide above the city. You wished to take off your mask and feel the breeze properly but you settled for the ripples flapping on your suit. "Robbery, robbery, robbery..." You murmured, swiveling your head around to see where the robbery could've been. You blinked as you spotted the familiar colors of blue and red flashing in the distance. "Robbery!" You grinned.

Zipping through the wind, you landed above what you now see is a jewelry store. You crawl into the shadows, making sure none of the policemen could see you. "Hm. I guess they win this time." You mutter to yourself about your little game. Perching on the ledge, you listened in on their conversation. "Any security footage?" One policewoman asks. "We're checking them now but so far after entering the perimeter, all cameras have been damaged." "Did you see what was stolen?" "A few rings and bracelets. But the owner is more concerned with a diamond necklace. Says it was going to be auctioned off later this weekend." You tilt your head in thought. And they got away? Definitely not some regular citizens. You began to feel a headache creep on you. You couldn't handle another big bad to fight this weekend. You stepped down from the ledge carefully and walked around the top of the building to find a vent. Once you did, you ripped it open and crawled inside, your body sticking to the ceiling. You looked around and saw various cases filled with glittering jewels, ranging in size and colors. You crawled through another room and hopped off the ceiling with a small thud. Looking behind you, you made sure no one had seen you and you began rummaging through the room to find any evidence lying around to catch the perpetrator.

You found yourself in front of the glowing case in the middle. You circled around it, the eyes of your mask squinting at the empty sloth that would've fit a giant diamond necklace inside. The glass was perfectly intact instead of ruthlessly shattered. This was no common thief. No fingerprints, everything was spotless and clean. You took a closer look. "Looking for this, arañita?" You hear a smooth voice behind you. You spin around, shooting your webs to trap the wrist of the stranger behind you to the wall. The familiar tall man you've had a complicated relationship with, Miguel O'Hara a.k.a. Black Cat. His skin tight black suit hugged his built body, white fur fluffed at his forearms and around his shoulders. His suit was opened at his chest, a long slit that gave everyone a nice view of his tanned skin littered with little black and graying hairs. His dark brown eyes were decorated with a thin diamond shaped mask that did little to hide his ‘secret identity’. His dark brown hair was in its usual slick back, gray strands curling in his locks and a pretty black collar around his neck. He tilted his head at you and lifted his other hand to cut your webs off him with an extracted claw. “Eso es como se trata un amigo? I thought your whole thing was being friendly, arañita.” Miguel says light-heartedly, unphased at the way your mask narrowed at him. You noticed that the hand you had webbed up was holding onto a pouch. Miguel slips open the pouch by its strings, lifting out the diamond necklace. He clips it around his neck and it shines in the moonlight that seeps through the ceiling window. He admires his reflection in the cases, his gloved hand caresses the jewels, his nail being gentle with grazing over it. “Isn’t she just a beauty? She’s not my style, personally, but I can appreciate her.” His eyes meet yours and he grins. “I think you would make it look even more beautiful.” You ignore his blatant flirting, your hands itching at your sides, wanting to snatch the pouch from him and return it to the police so the owner could have a good night’s rest–so you could have a good night’s rest. Now knowing the one behind this was Black Cat, your headache had gotten worse and you knew it’d be a long night. Miguel stalks up to you after taking the necklace off and placing it back in his pouch.

“What’s wrong, arañita? Cat got your tongue?” He smirked, his claw grazing under your chin and making you look up at him. You bit down on your tongue. This cat always had a way of pissing you off. “I thought we agreed you’d put this behind you. You’re rich. What more could you possibly want?” You grab his wrist and take his hand off from your chin. “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted your attention?” His lips curl up, showing off his fangs. “No.” “Ouch. I’m hurt. I thought we had something.” His smile doesn't falter. “Give back the jewels, Miguel.” ‘Hmm. No. These could go for a lot of money. Way more than whatever that auction it is they’re doing.”

“Miguel, you promised me you would be good.”

His eyes soften for a split second. The memory of your last encounter months ago where you two had spent the night together in the city up on the Empire State building. Your relationship was a confusing one. There had been nights where you were on opposite sides and other nights where he answered your call for help.

Miguel began to trust you. Despite his tendencies to slip between your fingers, you always spoke to him kindly when he wasn’t pushing your buttons–even then he knew you never harbored any actual hatred for him. So after a long night, he confided in you that this was his new life and it wouldn’t change–he’d always come back to a life of crime, it’s who he was. You believed he was better than that.

That night before he disappeared for months, he pulled up your mask just enough to see your lips and he kissed you, leaving with a promise to do better. But cats were known to do whatever they wanted. “You know I’m not good like you, arañita.” His smile turns melancholy. “But you could be.” You insisted. “Give me the pouch.” “I can’t do that, amor.”

You huffed through your nose, jaw clenching, and you tried to snatch the bag from his hand as quickly as you could. Miguel was faster, his clawed hand grabbing you and forcing you to bend over the glass display of jewelry with your arm behind your back.

You grunted when your cheek met the hard glass and attempted to worm your way out of his hold. You feel Miguel lean over your body, his warm breath whispering next to your ear.

“I've thought about you like this. Maybe with a little less clothing.” He teases and chuckles when you stiffen.

“Miguel.” You warn lowly.

“It's been nice seeing you again, arañita, but I've got to run.” You hear a dull clanking sound along with a small whizz.

You felt rope like strings wrap around your body and arms and suction themselves to the glass he slammed you on, trapping you.

Shit.

You crane your head as much as you could to see Miguel take a step back away from you. Just for shits and giggles, he plucks a pair of earrings from a stand and places it inside his bag before raising his hand up at the ceiling window.

Miguel gives you a wink and a charming smile and his grappling hook zips out from his wrist, denting itself in the wall. It pulls him up and he pops the window open, successfully escaping without leaving a trace.

You groan and knock your forehead on the cold glass. With your strength, you pop the rope off you, stretching your arm and wrist out.

Police began to enter inside the building, their commotion and their comms going off and getting closer to you.

Collecting the ropes, you webbed yourself out through the same window Miguel used and closed it behind you. You tossed the ropes away and began swinging around, trying to sense any trace of Miguel.

“Dammit, kitty.” You mutter under your breath. You ignored the way your heart pounded as you scanned every nearby corner. The sight of him after so long sent flutters in your stomach. You ignored the lingering hot touch of his fingers around you, the weight of his body towering over yours. His hips that gently bucked up against–

You tumbled on the roof of a brick building. This was not how you wanted your night to go. You let out deep breaths, your arms and legs spread out as you lay on your back.

After a couple of minutes, you sat up. You ripped your mask off and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You felt a turmoil of emotions.

When Miguel had kissed you that night, it broke your heart. He felt so sure of himself to give you affection but at the cost of his disappearance right after. It hurt but you thought if he could turn his life around for the better, it'd be worth all the heartbreak and what ifs.

You stood up and placed your mask back on your head, your arm raising up to shoot a web when your spider senses alerted you of someone.

You turn around to see Miguel, half of his body in the shadows.

“I don't have the pouch so don't shoot.” He raises his hands in a mock surrender.

“Didn't you say you needed to run?” Your voice spits and Miguel nods.

“I also said it was nice to see you again.” He walks up to you, his hands gently placing themselves on your hips. You stand tall, not wanting him to know his effect on you. “So forgive me, I'm a little selfish. I wanted to see you one more time.”

“Why are you back?” You mumble. Why are you back in New York?

“I'm sorry, corazón. You know me. It's what I do.”

“So you lied to me.”

Miguel winces. “No. No, I didn't. I tried, believe me.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I tried for you but…it's not for me. This,” He gestures to himself, clad in black spandex and white fur. “This is who I am now. It's how I have to live.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your mask-covered face. He wonders what you looked like underneath. Were you as beautiful as your body? Your heart? He dreamed so. He knew so.

“I still don't believe that.” You whisper, leaning into his touch, hands slowly going around the back of his neck and he takes it as an invite to bring you closer.

“You're still so naive.” He murmurs.

“You said you liked that about me.” You quipped. Miguel chuckles.

“I did say that.”

You feel a smile creep up on your face, your heart feeling lighter at the sound of his laugh.

“Hopefully we'll cross paths more often now that I'm back in New York.” Miguel grins. “Te extrañe.”

“I missed you too.” You whisper. With your chest pressed up against his, you could faintly feel the rumble of him purring. Miguel's claws run under your throat, flicking up the fabric of your mask to expose just a bit of your neck as if wanting to lift it off. “But you know I have to turn you in for robbing.” You add.

“Hm. A shame.” He mumbles dismissively. He continues to ride up your mask and you let him. He stops at your nose and leaves it there, eyes focused on the way your lips parted. “Kiss for good luck?” He asks. His eyes glint when you licks your lips subconsciously.

“You’re pushing it, kitty.” You mumble back but your arms tighten around him. Miguel purrs at the pet name.

“Just one kiss.” He insists, leaning down to brush his lips against your mask where your forehead was. You tilt his head further down with your hand at the back of his head and he follows. With your guidance, his lips find yours and your heart skips a beat. Miguel tugs you closer by the waist, pressing your chest and hips together. His hands crawl up your spine while he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You match his pace with your eyes closed while you feel his soft lump lips caressing yours. You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted–not when his hands roamed your body, squeezing you and devouring as much of your tiny moans as he could. Your hands curled up at the base of his neck while he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip. Gasping, you allowed him access but he pulled away. “I’ll see you next time, arañita.” Miguel whispers against your lips,the fangs of his teeth gently nibble on your top lip before he pulls away. He squeezes your waist, his touch lingering and aching to keep you near but he lets go. He takes a step back from you and jumps back into the night, the sound of his grappling hook zipping through the air faintly. You sigh, trying to slow down your heartbeat with a hand over your chest when suddenly you pause. “Dammit…” You huff and kick a pebble away from you.

a/n: black cat miguel o'hara if you can hear me, please save me, save me black cat miguel o'hara

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara imagine

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ventisstolengnosis · 2 years

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YAHOO I love u nev. Thank u for being the most oc of all time

#im love him. gnc men <333 #he wears a while bunch of floral embroided stuff btw because. plant powers :]#love him. and vivian. they r best friends. maybe nev will date ares/ivan eventually. i think that theyd be good together maybe #hed eithwr make ares better or he'd make him worse. either way vivian supports them <3 #beccas art #this took me like. 25 minutes somehow. literally how. thats too long for a simple sketchy portrait!!!#its not even the sketch that took me that long its just filling in the colors bc i hate using the fill tool #I SHOULDVE GIVEN HIM EARRINGS FUCK #its fine. ill make a character sheet later #maybe #im definitely making one of vivian though i love her

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rosedom · 17 days

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HAIIII OMGヾ(＾∇＾) D J & X for childe (i am ill) -🕷️

you have summoned CHILDE for the event . . .

A/N : HAII it's been so long omg sweet spider, how are u ??

✦ㅤㅤD = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

childe's not very secretive, with you, and especially not about what he's into, what he likes being done to him—but, this? this is a bit much, he thinks: this being the way he wants to be kept full of cum, always. it's not just in the immediate aftermath—wanting to keep your cock n' cum warm, both nestled deep inside him—, but in the later, too. whenever you pull out of him, he's so, so quick to fuck his fingers back into his lil' cunt, his ass—whichever you came in—and stuff any leaking cum back in. he always whines when you tug away his hands to properly clean him, to wipe him down between his still-shaking thighs, but you've always chalked it up to him being a little bit cock-drunk, cum-loopy: childe, however, knows otherwise.

it'd have to be you to help him reveal this secret of his. fucking up into his cunt all sloppy, a lather of his cum and yours bubbling up around the base of your cock, then pulling out all slow n' sweet as you keep his hips tilted up . . . lubing up a thick plug, dragging it through the mess between his puffy labia to slide in slow, just to keep your cum in him. "be a good boy," you'd have to coo, "and keep my cum warm." maybe you've known this was a kink of his, and maybe you didn't; all childe knows is that it feels good—insanely so.

just don't fault him if you catch him wearing the plug n' keeping your cum warm even hours later, even after your bath, running around your house in nothing but his briefs to keep that plug nestled in deep, keep your cum right where it belongs<3 (though . . . make sure he's not fighting while his cunt's stuffed).

✦ㅤㅤJ = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

childe is simply insatiable: fighting-wise and sex-wise. in the same way his skin always itches for a good fight, his gut burns for your touch, for your hands across him, in him . . . it's only natural, then, that he is quite . . . well-acquainted, for lack of better words, with his body. he touches himself daily, once, twice, three times on more stressful days. you can't even be mad at him, either, because (and besides the fact that it is undoubtedly hot as hell to imagine your adorable ajax playing with himself) it keeps him safe, out of harm's way . . . he can't exactly risk his life when he's got his cock pinched between his forefinger and thumb, can he?

as to how he masturbates . . . mmm. he's not one to tease himself, much: he gets right to the main course, dipping his hand down his coarse happy trail to the tufts of hair atop his mons, fore- and middle finger reaching for his cock. he rubs it dry first, each and every time—the one time he lets himself tease—waiting to get his fingers wet with his slick after the first minute or so of back-arching, dry friction. once he's good and worked up, he'll tease down at his leaking hole, gathering up the slick on his fingertips before he goes back to incessantly rubbing against his cock. just thinkin' about the way his cock'd throb under his ministrations, his empty hole left to dribble out around nothing . . . nghhh. childe's truly a master of his art: from the sword to the bow to his fingers.

✦ㅤㅤX = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes !!)

while he's not normally one to doll himself up under his clothes, childe does prefer to wear hip briefs. their cut allows him far more flexibility than the traditional boxer, and, lucky for you, they are oh-so easy to slip to the side and reveal his cunt . . . the seat of them is wide and covers him well, but all that pale, scarred skin running up his thighs—inner and outer—is all exposed. although there's rarely any lace on these hipsters, the view is still terribly appetizing<33 makes me want to kiss up his inner thighs, all quivering, and lick across his covered hole, suckle on the fabric to taste how he leaks . . .

on the few days where he takes the effort to impress you, to tease you, he'll usually slide on some silken panties with just enough lace trim to tantalize you; imagine dippin' your fingers past the waistband of his pants, your fingertips brushing against that lace . . . he'll pair it with some pretty garters, too, occasionally (but he'll never wear any type of bra/ssiere/lette). he may be swimming in money, but his lingerie is usually relatively cheap—or, at least, cheap by his standards—; he just wants you to tear it off of him before you ravage him head to toe (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠♪ that is not a crime !

it's kinda difficult to keep all of these from the event in a similar format, 😞😞 but i hope u liked this !!

9 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 EVENT 】#i am so ill for childe too ><#alphabet #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub childe #sub tartaglia #fck these harbingers and having two names #childe smut #tartaglia smut #dom reader

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aritany · 27 days

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On Identity: The Truth

Content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, references to self harm and suicide.

I’ve been keeping secrets my whole life.

I’m 10 and I’m listening to my dad at the dinner table, who I know to be the most trustworthy person in the world. He talks about the legalization of marriage between two people of the same sex and asks us to consider the implications. Where do we draw the line in the sand? Legalizing gay marriage paves the way for legalizing pedophilia, after all. If a union between two men or two women isn’t disrespecting the sanctity of marriage, what’s next? Marriage between men and animals?

I’m 11 the first time I hear it: “It doesn’t matter how low I set the bar for you, you still can’t reach it.”

I’m confused and afraid—I’m trying so hard—but I hear it then, and again, and again, spoken low in disappointment, shouted with a vein popping in her forehead, cold like a fact, and it sinks in, bone deep.

I’m 12 with my first crush on a girl. I’m not confused, I know that’s what it is—I want to kiss my friend, and I already know not to talk about it. Never to talk about it. It isn’t safe.

I’m 13 and doubting. I throw myself into fitting in. I pick the right boys to like and I go overboard, and I do like them, I do, I do, I want them to like me, I want to be their friend. I want to be their equal, but that’s not quite how the story goes, so I settle for trying to hold hands with somebody I desperately crave respect from, but that’s wrong too, I learn.

I’m 14 and convicted. How could this be wrong? I brush hands with a girl in choir and we meet eyes and I know. I watch a gay kiss on TV and I sob into my hands and I tell no one, no one, no one.

I’m 15 and I come out to my mom, haltingly, with the terminology that I have, because the thought of hiding forever—keeping quiet through one more dinner—kills me.

She tells me no. She tells me I’m wrong.

I look in her eyes and I understand: it’s not an option, and it never will be.

I’m 15 and I do my best to stop there.

It doesn’t work.

I’m 16 when I first hear my mom say that you can love someone and not approve of their lifestyle. I wonder what kind of love that is. I wonder how that kind of diluted, half-hearted, patronizing love can be enough for anyone. I wonder if she’s thought about how that feels, to be told that who you are—not by choice—is fundamentally wrong.

I’m 16 and a boyfriend is a shield. The right choice, so I make it, and it’s even almost fun. I love being his friend. I’m afraid of anything more.

I’m 17 and my youngest sibling whispers, “So am I.”

My heart breaks for the pain they’ll experience, as they too are taught, painstakingly, how to hate themself. Which parts of themself have to be kept hidden, which parts are shameful. They sit at that dinner table and hear the rhetoric that pushed me to the brink and over it, and I hope they’re stronger than I am.

They aren’t.

I’m 18 and my mom works at a college for the performing arts. I sit and curdle quietly while she talks about her genderqueer students. Misgenders them behind their backs. Deadnames used flippantly. She knows better, after all. She can be the expert on somebody else’s identity. They’re mentally ill, all of them. None of them are happy. They’re searching for something only God can provide.

I’m 19 and I come out as bisexual to the man I’m certain I’m going to marry, tearing the secret out like a bandage fused to skin. He tells me of course it’s fine, that he supports who I am. Of course people like me should have rights, of course. I laugh, relieved. Later, I find out this moment was almost a dealbreaker for him, and I wonder how much was ever real.

I’m 20 and I’m out. I’m 20 and I’m free. I’m 20 and I believe, because I’ve been told, that I am loved for who I am. All of who I am. I still flinch when I hear a car door slam.

I’m 21 and I’m searching for the connection to my womanhood. I’m searching for what makes a woman a woman. I’m reading gender theory and talking to friends around the world and wondering exactly what it is that I’m missing.

What does the rest of the world know that I don’t?

I’m 22 when my marriage ends because my body might not be attractive to my husband one day, and my parents email him in support and solidarity, expressing sympathy, and I’m not surprised.

I’m 22, and standing up for who I am has cost me everything. A spouse, two sets of parents, financial security, a city’s worth of community, more childhood friends than I can count. My parents tell me to go back in the closet so my ex-husband will love me. To them, his frustration is understandable, of course—by presenting androgynously, I’m betraying my marriage vows, after all.

I wonder, stunned into silence, where I promised to look like a woman.

I’m 23 when I come out to my parents for the third time; not as bisexual, not as trans, but as hurt.

I lay out the pain of the last decade as succinctly as I can, hoping they’ll hear. When I assert that yes, to be in relationship with me, use of my name and pronouns is a requirement, my mother jokes, “Well, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

It’s not a joke.

I see the flash in her eyes, the instant regret as she laughs it off like it’s funny, but it isn’t.

The kid sitting at the dinner table knows it’s not a joke. The kid who listened to countless lectures on the morality of queerness knows it’s not a joke. The kid who stood with shaking hands and tried to bleed out the bad knows it’s not a joke. Years of casual bigotry taught me how to hate myself, which parts of myself I should cross out and ignore, which parts of myself I should be ashamed of.

I’m 23, and I have finally unlearned shame, and when I ask my parents to see me, the joke is that I’m a terrorist. I’m unreasonable.

The shock of it becomes a balm, later on.

Some jokes aren’t funny.

Some jokes aren’t jokes at all.

I’m 24 and I’m learning that it’s scary to be alone. Bigotry made me an orphan and made us strangers, and knowing that it’s the right choice to stand up for myself doesn’t make it any easier. I’m learning the only way out is through, if you’re not squeamish:

Cut off the part of yourself that’s 7 years old standing outside of their bedroom because the nightmare had teeth and claws and they are the heroes that will hold you close and make it warm again.

Amputate.

Cauterize.

Don’t let them see you bleed.

I’m learning that the wound takes a long, long time to close.

I’m 25 as I write this, and I am proud of who I am, even if I’m still bleeding. All of who I am. It’s taken a long time for me to let that person see the sun, but here we are, basking in the glow. Those wounds are healing. I am visible for everyone else who whispers, “So am I.”

Your sunshine will come. Your sunshine will come.

Your sunshine will come.

#long post #alex talks #tw transphobia #trans day of visibility #international transgender day of visibility #tw homophobia #tw suicide #tw self harm

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klausysworld · 1 year

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Hey!

could i request a

klaus mikaelson x fem hybrid reader

where reader use to be friends with the Scooby gang but she got in a fight and they all chose Elena’s side and Elena made it worse and rubbed it in so to get back at them she bit Elena.

and when they klaus doesn’t know he just knows she had a fight but then they come begging for his blood because she bit her and his like proud of his girlfriend or something like that

I didn’t mean to

Being Klaus mikaelsons girlfriend is hard enough anyways. Constantly having to watch your own shadow to make sure nobody going to grab you and use you as leverage. Making sure to always give him your attention and affection while also balancing the blood shed and agony.

What made it harder was being one of his hybrids. Now yes i was sired but he didn’t use it against me. And i knew that he actually felt something for me. My friends however didn’t.

“You’re being pathetic y/n he will never love you! It’s that stupid creepy bond that you have for him, you’re just doing it to please him!” Elena yelled, her arms flinging about as though it would make her point better

“Then why hasn’t he made me do anything I don’t want to? I haven’t had to betray any of you or anything so if he was using me surely it would be more obvious!?” I questioned growing upset

“God it’s like you’re stupid, he’s smart y/n, he knows what to do to make you think you’re in the right, but you’re not, you’re just a joke to him, a toy” she sneered. I hadn’t been a hybrid long enough to gain complete control over my anger, any of my emotions really.

“You know she’s right y/n” Damon said in a singsong tone making me further agitated. I could see Caroline and Bonnie refusing to look at me as Stefan gave me a sympathy face.

“Fine. I don’t need any of you, clearly i never meant anything to any of you enough for you to trust me” i growled making my way to the front door

“Oh yeah? What you gonna run home to your master or something?” Elena asked with her arms crossed and her head cocked. I didn’t think as i lunged towards her, my canines digging into her skin before i pulled away, ripping a chunk of her neck out as i sped away. I could hear her pain filled cry echo through my head at the same time Stefan and Damon began yelled and Caroline screamed.

I went straight to Klaus’. I didn’t say a word just went straight into his arms hiding my face in his chest. His arms circled me instantly, a hand petting my hair as he dropped whatever he was doing

“Shh, it’s okay” he soothed as i cried into his henley, hiccuping as i tried to calm myself

“Sh sh, are you hurt sweetheart?” He asked gently holding my close against him. I shook my head and clung to him tighter

“Just my emotions” I uttered. He kissed the top of my head before picking me up and taking me to his room

“That’s okay, you’re going to get used to it love. You’re already much better at controlling them hm? You’ve done so well” he encouraged. I was put on his bed, duvet pulled up over me and blackout curtains closed

“Just sleep my love, a rest will make you feel better I assure you.” He muttered as he kissed my forehead lovingly “I’m just across form you in my art room okay? Do you want me to stay?” He asked softly but I shook my head. I knew i was lying saying it was my emotions and ill feel worse the longer he coddles me.

Once he was gone i continued to cry quietly. Knowing that the people i once considered my family now wanted nothing to do with me just because of what i am and who i love. Eventually to fell asleep with a tight grip on Klaus’ pillow trying to replicate the feel of hugging him.

I woke hours later. My eyes fluttered open to the feeling of someones fingers in my hair against my scalp. I hummed sleepily in content as they massaged my head gently. I found that i was laying on a body, face on a warm chest making me frown in confusion before looking up to see Klaus with a smile on his face.

“Hello” he whispered looking at me making me smile in amusement

“Hi” i replied looking at him with a tilt of my head.

“You know…a little birdy told me that you might’ve gotten into a bit of fight today?” He hummed and my heart pounded

“Umm it wasn’t really a fight” i mumbled laying back down so he couldn’t see my face.

“No, clearly they didn’t stand a chance hm?” He asked with a literal chuckle making me blush in embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean to” i whispered sniffling.

“Oh my love, I’m not upset with you” he cooed while lifting me to have me straddle him as he sat up

“No love, if anything I’m proud of you” he explained as his hands cupped my face

“Because you want me to be a monster” i whispered remembering Elenas words from the start of the argument. He frowned at me his hands bringing me closer as he lightly pressed his lips to mine. Softly moving them together before pulling back to look back at me

“Because you are strong enough to defend yourself” he corrected, his arms slipping down my body to pull me closer

“You’re the opposite to a monster sweetheart” he uttered kissing me tenderly, my eyed closing in appreciation

“You mean the world to me” he told me as he gently rocked my body like a parent would a child as the tears slipped down my face once more

“I bit her Klaus” i sobbed and he nodded

“I know sweetheart, i know but it’s okay. Ive given them my blood so you don’t need to feel bad anymore okay?” I shook my head

“They hate me”

“But i love you” he whispered “you just stay with me, I’ll keep you safe” and i found myself nodded, Klaus was all i had, all i could ever want.

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redheadspark · 5 months

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May I request "I'm so so sorry, you don't deserve that," with Benedict bridgerton please 💗

A/N - Thanks for the request, anon!

Joy

Summary - Benedict knows how to bring you joy

Warnings - Mostly angst with a hint of fluff in the end

Benedict opened the door into your personal study just at the very moment you held your head in your hands, a singular piece of paper on the desk in your mother's writing and some tears were evident on the paper. He panicked, closing the door right behind him as he walked into the study.

“Darling?” He asked, making his way over to your side as you were attempting to hide your tears from him. But it was no use, some of the tears were stashing the letter now as Benedict reached for your clammy hand. You laced your fingers together, Benedict coaxing you to look at him and see his eyes that were filled with worry and the worst thoughts.

“My mother,” You simply stated, Benedict’s eyes moving from you to the tear-stained paper. He took the letter with his spare hand, scanning the letter rapidly with his eyes as you were attempting to wipe the tears away. From what he was reading and digesting in the letter, it all was negative feedback at your mother’s usual tactics in trying to make you feel bad for being a Bridgerton wife. Benedict was already on thin ice with her because of his family name, your mother was far too traditional for her daughter to be courted by a family that had a so-called “reputation” among the elite and upper class.

Yet you never cared, you are simply in love with Benedict and his love for art and life. You two fell for each other hard and fast, courting for several months before you broke the engagement to your mother. She was shocked, thinking of it as another scandal in the making, and was instantly against it. No matter how many times you told her Benedict was a good man, giving her proof of a suitable living situation and his contributions to art and the community, she only focused on his last name and the scandals of the past.

Even a year later she still spoke ill towards you and your new family, which made it worse for you.

Benedict could only sigh as he placed the letter to the side and reached over to embrace you in his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you more since he could say plenty of ill things to his mother-in-law. You placed boundaries with her when you and Benedict were married, knowing that it was the best way to both be happy and to have a relationship with her. But of course, your mother never minded the jabs every now and then, to which Benedict’s dislike for her was growing by the day. Yet you never let those words deter you from your love for him, making Benedict all the more proud to be your husband.

“I can’t believe she disinvited us to her home for Christmas,” You mumbled into his shirt, Benedict told you a bit tighter as you were clinging onto him for support, “I thought she was turning a corner with us and how she feels about us.”

“As did I, Darling,” Benedict hummed in agreement as he pressed a kiss in your hair, “But your mother is set in her ways, which is no excuse for how she treats her own kin,”

“I thought it would be better for her since my father died,” You said in a whisper, “He loved you. I wish he was here to speak reason with her,”

Benedict pushed the hair out of your eyes as he made you look up at him. Your prestige bright eyes that he loved and adored were pouring into his as he gave you a somber look.

“I’m so so sorry, you don’t deserve that,” He calmly said to you as he pressed his forehead against yours, “You know that you have my family who adores you. My sisters are obsessed with you, and my brothers always tell me I’m a lucky man to have you. Especially Anthony, he tells me daily until he’s blue in the face,”

You cracked a grin, Benedict chuckling at the sight of you finally smiling.

“I know it hurts, what your mother is doing to you. But you still have a family, with my own mother, and my siblings. And of course with me. I’m your family, okay?” He asked, you sighed and nodded your head as he kissed you softly. Every time your mother shot you down and made you feel small, Benedict built you up and made you strong. Fresh flowers in your vase by your bedside, new paintings and sketches that he was inspired by as a gift to you on your birthday or anniversary, and simply giving you the love and affection that he knew you craved.

“Now If I know my mother, she would be over the moon to host the pair of us for Christmas, along with the rest of the family,” Benedict said to you as he helped you out of the chair and wrapped an arm around you, “It’s already been decided actually: Anthony and Kate will be there along with Daphne and Simon.”

“Sounds lovely, Benedict,” You said with a giggle, feeling him peck you with kisses all over your face as you were giggling and trying to duck away from him. A chorus of laughter was heard from your study, changing the mood from somber and sadness to lightness and joy.

Benedict would do that every day just to bring a smile to your face.

The End

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgeton x female reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction

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4pfsukuna · 2 months

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omfg bruhhhhh

yall want me to believe Choso “on sight before his feet even land on the floor” Kamo is some pathetic whiney crybaby? Like why is every fic so… ugh i want him to fight back. Somebody please tag me or drop a link for assertive/ aggresive/ dominant choso! (Prefferably black reader)

like do i gotta write it myself?

Choso who meets you when you both come in late at night its 2am and youre standing in the hall talking about whatever the hell a middle part buss down is. He doesnt care he just wish you werent so loud… in your shared hall.

you glare at him because who was he talking too! You pay the same amount of rent as him and to damn much at that they should be lucky you werent in the lounge making ramen watching their t.v right now.

It doesnt get better when you bang on his door asking him to turn his music down cause why was he playing last resort by papa roach at 3:30am on a wednesday. He opens the door in a hoodie and tight calvin klein boxers and your eyes drift for a second until the next rock song starts up this time in japanese and he has the audacity to have an annoyed expresion with you!

”did you want something or did you just want to stare” he glares annoyed with a steady voice though youre expecting him to snap.

“Who answers the door in their boxers have some decorum” you respond half embarassed that he caught you. “And your music is loud… some of us have jobs in the morning” and you storm off not leaving any room for backtalk.

the next time he sees you is a few days later when youre both rushing out and slam into another his shirt and leather jacket falling to the floor with your purse falling sending your wallet down the hall and lip gloss shattering that dior gloss was not cheap.

”are you fucking kidding me” he hisses and you notice hes shirtless silver bars through his nipples and a few tattoos littered across his chest.

”you got a real stairing problem there princess” which makes you smirk.

“you look like a 1st grade art project… line work isnt half bad its just the asshole its attatched to” you retort collecting your items not realizing a few slipped from your wallet.

it was maintenance day you didnt have time to worry about shit it was hair lashes nails toes and a fresh tattoo and belly piercing your friend finally found an artist that did both and had clean work.

youre all smiles and sunshine walking into C.K. Parlor even enjoying the convo with the pink haired male receptionist whos so sweet mentioning this was his brothers shop but something about this guy looks familiar.

“Hes so hot” your friend gushes making you turn around and groan at the sight of your annoying ass neighbor.

”couldnt get enough bothering me home so you come here” he teases but theres something so stoicly calm about his anger… its more so mild annoyance.

”i actually came to get a tattoo and piercing but i think ill pass” you speak not wanting to admit you actually loss your credit card but youre here for moral support for your friend who now that you look at her looks like she doesnt need it.

”youre already here dont tell me youre chicken… come on ill even do it for free”

”free?” Oh that had your attention.

“mhmmm lets call it a truce no more loud… anything just being good neighbors”

and its not long before youre on the table the design being shaded into your spine and he admires how you just take it… his mind does begin to drift to if you can take anything else when he notices how pretty you look today.

he actually loves white on your toes and the crisp french tip on your hands. Its when he notices the snake tattoo wrapped around your wrist that he realizes you might be interesting and not just some stuck up—

“you wanted your belly pierced too right?” He ask and if someone wouldve told you that youd be half dressed infront of your neighbor Today you wouldnt believe it. Hes professional and doesnt even glance at the double d’s you have in your lace bra… ok he did but you didnt notice at all.

you thought you seen his ears burn red but hes quick to turn away disposing of the needle and your completely suprised by how soft and careful his hands are… ahem he is.

”and maybe we can actually be nice to another” he says softly holding out your credit card that you dropped earlier.

your truce last all of 5 days. It wasnt your fault meg the stallion announced she was going on tour and you couldnt help the screams of joy and to blast her music.

you dont expect anyone to bang on your door or barge in when you open it.

”excuse the fuck out of me” you hiss slamming your door facing him when you notice hes looking past your face and down at your body.

you were wearing a dark purple lace bra and underwear the silver belly ring he initially put in switched out for a dangly silver one with a dragon that matched your tattoo and yes it was to early to change.

”my eyes are up here”

”please. Nothing i havent seen before princess actually it kind of looks like the black one” he smirks watching the fury in your eyes as you look for something to cover up.

”get the fuck out”

he saunters (the god damn audacity) out but not without pressing his whole body into you as if the walkway wasnt wide enough making sure to press himself into your ass leaning down to your ear.

”good night princess” and you dont have to look at him to know hes smirking but that raspy voice does something to you.

that night you go to bed with 3 orgasms… what dont make that face you had a voice kink and couldnt help it.

he smirks when he sees you the next day and you try to ignore him as he unlocks his car door.

”sleep well? You know the walls are thin and im sure our bedrooms share a wall”

you make a mental note to get on apartment finder tonight.

”im sure that was your first time ever hearing a womans moans outside of porn” you hiss back you werent no weak bitch.

and he wasnt a cliche man his taunts went further then just an insult back, hed give you more content for tonight. After all he was helping you help him.

”just be a good girl for me and let me hear everything tonight alright princess” he utters in a deep octave that makes your breathing stutter and you cant form a proper sentence and any insult is going to be childish.

you of course try to walk off but he grabs your arm pulling you closely his large hand spreading across your lower back.

”did i say i was done… look up at me” and you bite your lip to keep your jaw off the floor this man was wicked and you were not about to play with a devil.

”youre such a pretty mess” he adds in watching the gloss in your eyes before you come to your senses pushing him off heading fown the street.

”wrong direction princess” and you were headed the other way but you should probably just head back inside to change underwear.

and if he could hear you through the wall you were going to put on a show, you make sure even whine moan groan whimper and cry can be heard through these thin ass walls honestly you were so sensitive from overstimulating yourself… It was his fault.

You do everything in your power to avoid him the next few days that post nut clarity knocking some sense into you.

You actually have no idea how wrecked he’s been. How wrecked you had him! He needs to hear it again.

he might turn slightly yandere for you. its when you get a call at 1am and of course youre up you had actually just got out the shower.

”is this your payback” he hisses into the phone though you arent sure what hes talking about.

”how the fuck did you get my number? Doesnt matter bye”

“stop it just listen” he grunts catching your attention “i just need you to be a good girl for me just once i promise” he nearly begs and you have a wicked idea of what he’s doing on the other side of the phone.

you listen to every command, praise and groan his sultry voice lets out your fingers and sheets soaked

“you did such a good job baby, you deserve a reward how about you cum for me” he grunts sending both of you to your end him losing it to the sound of your orgasm.

“i wanna take you out on a date” and thats when you hang up not in the mood for his antics.

hes serious though, he takes you to the finest seafood restaurant with expensive alcohol you cant pronounce he even gets you a dress to wear, suprising you with a new dior lip gloss…3 actually.

”thats how many times you orgasmed through the wall the first night…” you thank God for your brown skin and him not being able to see you blush. He genuinely takes the time for you to get to know another subtly throwing in praises.

by the time you get back to the car your a wreck hair frizzing from your body overheating already.

your legs are rubbingg together and he spreads them guiding your hand down.

“Be a good girl for me and show me how pretty you look when you cum”

You happily comply watching as his hands fidget while driving

When he gets you back to his place your clothes are off and your back is against his fluffy comforter, not that you had time to notice but his whole room is black.

Hes a certified munch and will eat you until youre lightheaded. He eats you out on your back, makes you ride his face, eats you from the back he has you in 7 different positions from head alone.

He gives the deepest stroke while telling you how pretty you are for him the most filthies things he can mutter in your ear giving you back shots the pillow under your stomach propping you up as he plays with your clit begging for you to cum.

you black out and hes not far behind but makes sure to clean you with a warm rag and throws a tshirt on you.

He loves waking up to you and will actually barge in your home or bring you over to his.

He has his own stubborn ways which you will sometimes talk your best shit which he loves, he needs his woman to be on go not some docile lil weakling.

and sometimes he fights back!

#Choso kamo #choso x black!reader #choso jjk #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #kamo choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader

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pixiestickie · 10 months

Text

so . i did something ^}*#*}*%+%

(more parts might come and if that happens this post will be the masterlist)

ramble ⏬

so . ok here goes nothing. first things first.

this is like the “fisherman meets mermaid and they are in love” AU trope but jamil isnt a fisherman: he pretty much retained his canon life, aka he is a servant and one day he found a merman and he just hangs around him to escape from his shitty life situation (and the merman is completey enamoured).

so, apart of NRC not happening, more details about the canon divergence should be revealed at a later date

thiat is the info about the au out of the way. ill just do personal rambling here esp bevause im insecure about some things about this so you can stop reading if you want.

this is a trope ive seen around a lot, especially on twitter, so ive had this idea since a bunch of months ago. i then proceeded to forget about it until i saw a twitter post about this same exact trope again except it was with fucking miguel o’hara but thats besides the point. the original post that made me get the idea were 2 ocs (they had the blood-cut-to-call-merman idea. I completely stole it from that. im coming clean) and i was like “wow do you know who else is a mermaid? azul fucking ashengrotto”

ok so no the art style i used. i started using it really recently to doodle stuff, since 2 days ago actually im so serious. i tried using it here as well bevause its an easy art style, really quick to draw with it and also looks good. or so i thought. because im now having doubts about wether it looks good or not and i fear it might just look weird. i kinda wanna hear if people prefer this art style or my “actual” one from my other posts

this style looked way better when i used it to doodle stuff, but i dont think im capable of using it in comic format. the style i was going for is mostly evident in the colored “poster” because ive actually redrawn the comic sequence a bunch of times so the style was lost there. I do like how the “poster” looks but im not sure if y’all would agree so id love to hear wyt

now the biggest part. ive never made comics in my life!! so these are going to look so damn akward. u can already notice it here!!!!! crowd starts booing

also i cant draw water and also i dont know how to draw azuls octo patterns bc the material we have of his design are so vague and fragmented but his patterns are not easy to draw so im struggling and i need to make a reference of him for myself 😭😭

#what…. tag do i give this au?#it doesnt even have a name #i genuinely have no idea but ill have to add a tag for this au later #azujami mermaid au??? that sounds lame #suggestions r apprecieated #twst #twisted wonderland #u can tell im fucking sturggling #azujami #jamiazu #ashenviper #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #art tag #posting this and throwing my phone across the room and never picking it up again for the next 48 hours

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