melancholiania

[melancholiania]

you know, I love mel medarda so much

also is it just me or does Mel's power fx look similar to the eternals' cosmic energy stuff?

(listen eternals is my favorite marvel movie okay)

[melancholiania]

What really bugs me is that if arcane is league canon, then how are thye justifying sticking the dead champs (Ambessa, Jinx?, Warwick, Viktor and Jayce), around in the lore??? are they gonna stop being included in other league media (excluding aus), like....

isn't viktor gettinga vgu soon? How is that gonna work if he died?????? Someone explain i would gladly listen

[melancholiania]

arcane season 2 is basically just pretty visuals because I feel like my time was wasted with how the story was so shoddily done

[melancholiania]

vikjayce kinda won but at like what cost

[melancholiania]

I feel disappointed by the ending somehow

-viktor looked hot as a eldritch being

-and mel is so cool as a mage and I hope she's a champion

besides that I'm sorta...meh

[melancholiania]

so.....agatha

um

awesome. thoughts:

rip alice and lillia you were both good ones

we got agathario angst and kiss all in one, epic

jen please come back soon i miss you already

ghost agatha lowkey kinda slay

and i need that hot toys figure of billy asap pleaseeeeeeeee

[melancholiania]

breaking my eternal hiatus to say that I am slowly becoming a mcu billy fan lol

also I would kill for a hot toys figure of billy lmao

[melancholiania]

soft release

summary: steven got a little rough with this one pairing: steven grant x male reader word count: 1.5k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x, top!steven, rough stuff, nods to comic steven, maybe ooc idk a/n: based on this request.

masterlist | more moon knight

His silence was deafening, all you could hear was the sound of the car speeding through the streets of London. His hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Your hands were cold and clammy. 

You were on the way home from a gala with your partner, famous museum curator, Steven Grant of the National Art Gallery. The gala featured new historical findings from a site in Egypt funded by the Grant Foundation. 

There were at least fifty people in the museum. Everyone was clad in pristine clothing, gowns, and expensive suits drinking equally expensive champagne. You came as Steven’s partner, a surprise to a lot of his colleagues. He wore a dark pinstripe tuxedo with the brightest white tie, his shoes were polished so bright it shone under the moonlight. 

He made you wear a similarly luxurious midnight blue tuxedo that complemented his. He introduced you to the other curators in Europe. You tried not to get bored but it definitely was. Steven said he hated it himself. You anxiously downed a few glasses of champagne, which you eventually regretted.

He was still silent when you arrived at the manor, removing his coat and his tie. He looked at you with his sunken eyes, a glare you would only see from Marc but you knew it was still Steven. He licked his lips and let out a sigh.

“If this is about earlier—” you tried to say, but Steven pulled you into your shared bedroom, your back against the hardwood door. 

“Flirting with my co-workers, ‘Do you think that was nice of you, love?” he said, his face so close to yours you could feel his warm breath on your lips. His hand is above your shoulder.

You shook your head, speechless. “Don’t think so,” he pulled back and went onto the bed removing his silver cufflinks. “Come here,” he gestured to the bed, his voice deep and serious, like a general giving away orders. 

“I’m so sorry—” you uttered. He let out a few tsks before pulling his belt off. On the usual, it would be you who would be the more aggressive when it comes to stuff like this. You went to sit on the edge of your white king-sized bed, Steven looking down on you with shadows in his eyes. 

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, it was so warm against your skin. His thumb went to your lips as he bent down to kiss you. You let out a soft moan as his lips left yours. He smirked. “Can we play?” he asked. You nodded before he placed his tie around your eyes, it was soft against your nose bridge and your temples. 

Steven started to undress you, your shirt, your pants, your underwear. Before he laid you down he took the tie around your neck and wrapped it around your wrists and secured it with a knot. He gently placed you against the wide bedspread, your arms above your head. 

“I hated the way he looked at you, the way he touched your hand as he talked to you,” he whispered in your ear leaving wet kisses around your neck. You could feel the stubble prick your skin. “Is it fair, my love? To let me see all that?” he said. You shook your head before he spun you around so your face faced the sheets, your ass cold against the air. 

He smacked your rear with a loud clap, like a thunderstrike. A red print is left on your skin. He massaged it with a grip that grew tighter and tighter. You let out a cry from impact, tears forming in your eyes. Steven knew how much this might have shocked you, how it wasn’t really like him. But he saw the way that man looked at you, filled with so much lust and want, he wanted to hurt him. “Shit, I’m so sorry love was that too much?” he shakingly said. 

“No, it—it’s good I liked it,” you witnessed a new side to him, your sweet and soft-spoken boyfriend was now all rough with you. You felt your center turn and harden. Steven’s own hardness grew, the visual of you prone on the bed bound and blindfolded, he cursed. It was Marc’s idea. He heard him whisper it in the car. Do it, teach ‘em a lesson.

“You’re so naughty, what will I do without you, love?” he said as he undressed his trousers. He bent down to kiss your nape, you could feel his tip rub against your back, leaving a wet trail. He took some lube and prepared your hole, his big digits inserted in you opening you up. He left kisses against your ass, leaving a few bites. You wince from the slight pain. 

You hear a foil wrapper being opened and an elastic being stretched. “Can I be rough with you?” he said, you let out a whiny yes. He gently pressed into you, his hardness entering you. The two of you let out a loud groan, his hands gripping your waist. 

He proceeded to thrust into you with fervor, he let out loud needy noises. You could feel his fingers press into your hip bones, his skin slapping into yours through each thrust. You could feel the hard tip ram into your most sensitive spots. You cried out curses and his name. The bed started to creek and rock back and forth, your fingers dug into the soft sheets. 

The sheer amount of force he was letting out was enough to push you to the edge, you could feel your cock leak so much pleasure. Stop, he’s close, a voice whispered to Steven. He pulled out, you let out a sob from the loss of sensation. 

“Steven—babe,” you were a whimpering mess.

“Not yet pretty, ‘need to show you how mad I am right now,” he sulked before turning you over and placing hips between your legs. He started to press wet kisses around your torso, his tongue playing with one of your nipples. The lack of vision made your whole body feel much more sensitive. 

Your bound hands tried to touch his hair as he kissed you down to your leaking cock, he swiftly took your wrist and pinned them back above your head. He went to kiss around your neck, his hand going to your cock, he stroked it so fast, and with the precum, it was so slippering you were sure you’d finally cum. He stopped when your legs began to close, you let out another cry. 

“You’re leaking so much, love. No one can make you like this but us.” 

“I know—”

“Just the three of us for you. Is that not enough?”

“You’re m—more than enough.”

“So it won’t happen again?” he sounded like he was begging, pleading for you to only care for him. 

“Yes—”

The moment you gave out your answer he pressed his cock again to your hole and began to fuck you again. He was harder, it was stiff around your rear, but pleasurable sliding across your muscles. His hip bones clashed against your skin, wet sounds filled the room. Your eyes rolled back from the sensation, your legs trembling. 

The constant rubbing loosened the tie from your eyes, you saw Steven covered in sweat, glistening under the moonlight. His curly hair was all tousled and the veins in his hands were visible as it held your waist. He looked at you and noticed that you could finally see him. He placed a wanton kiss on your lips, it was lousy at best but filled with so much want. You placed your hands around his head and pulled him close. 

He untied you and your hands began to snake across his wide back. The feeling of his cock inside you was starting to make your head feel light, your eyes half-lidded and your toes curled. You were a moaning mess under him. 

He whispered that he was close. His thrusts became erratic but still hard. You asked if you could ride him and he obliged. You began to ride him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your hips moved up and down, his hands clenched on your ass. The two of you shared one last kiss as he came inside you, your own cum shooting on your torsos. You felt the room darken as your eyes closed. 

You woke up to the room still dark, the moon shone on the window. You felt a cold wet towel on your rear. It was Steven, cleaning you up as he pressed soft kisses on the redness around your waist. 

“You’re awake,” he said, placing the wet towel on the basin near the bed stand. “‘Sorry if it was too much.”

“Marc got you into this?” you giggled. He nodded like a scolded puppy. You stroke his wet hair before you place a light kiss on his lips. “Cuddle me into bed then, my body is sore,” you said as he took out your softest blankets and covered your naked bodies. He peppered you with kisses before you went back into slumber. 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[melancholiania]

Why are there so many bottom Miguel one-shots where is my bottom reader at.. don't get me wrong I don't hate it

[melancholiania]

🕷 impersonator [ miguel o’hara ] 

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Note: It’s literally just a very small Miguel post to get it out of my mind. I’ve been wanting to write something with him for a while now, and I had a totally different draft with a whole story idea that would’ve lasted a few chapters, but ultimately I scrapped the whole idea and just decided to do something small. It ain’t much, but it’s honest work.

Keep reading

[melancholiania]

yandere!the spot x reader

[crawling out of the desert] anybody… anybody like the spot… from spiderverse….. I’M FULLY PREPARED FOR THIS TO FLOP I JUST NEED TO WRITE FOR HIM… HE’S SO SILLY AND GOOFY….

he’s like my favorite candidate for yandere… he’s silly, he has no means of being anything but silly and ridiculously evil in a yandere sense, he’s dirt poor, can’t hold a job, looks ridiculous, HE’S IDEAL

TWs: yandere, that’s kinda it… 

Keep reading

[melancholiania]

Yandere!Miguel O'hara/Spiderperson!Reader- No More Dry Bites

TWs: Yandere, Obsession, Possessiveness, Violence, Manipulation Poorly Done, Prey/Predator mentions, Miguel is not nice about it, Biting, Kidnapping.

(This ended up longer than most of what I've written recently lmao. This angry bitter man has me gripped.)

Miguel isn't scary. He's not dangerous. Out of everyone you've been around, everyone in Spider society, he's somehow wedged his way into being the kindest person here- not an easy feat. So...why is it that the way he's staring you down reminds you of a predator cornering it's prey?

No matter what people told you about him being the most intimidating, work oriented, terrifying Spider-Man in this line of work, you didn't believe them. Thought it was an inside joke, even; not once has Miguel made you so much as flinch around him. In the near-year that you've been here you haven't been given any reason to be scared of him despite what everyone else seems so keen on hammering into your head. Except...right now, you suppose. You're alone with him, which, normally would be nothing but a relief- but you messed up big time today.

You snooped. Really, you shouldn't have had any reason to put much stock in what Hobie "Instigator" Brown was telling you, about how you need to be careful being so close to and unaware about "your Miggy" (his words, not yours, but the phrasing and tone made you so so inquisitive, so consider his job done). You should have done what you normally do, and brushed it off. This time, though, something about the way Hobie said it, with some semblance of genuine worry in his expression...it's not like you could make yourself disregard that, coming from him. You'd thought, if Hobie had reason to be worried, maybe you should look into it...? Initially you only intended to take a tiny, inconsequential peek inside Miguel's desk.

Said peek quickly turned into panicked reading and terror. Pages in his handwriting about obsessive, possessive feelings, the need to keep and hide and take- all centered on you. His apparent need for control, barely hidden behind a kind facade that he keeps up so he doesn't scare you off as he strips you of your agency; at least, that's what seemed to be his plan. His gross, twisted idea that you should be his, only seen and heard by him.

You suppose the amount of time you spent glued to his writing is how you lost track of time. It was only supposed to be ten minutes at most. That...was until you felt the familiar prickle in your veins, screaming 'danger'. Miguel had not only come back sooner than expected, but you'd vastly overshot your window to leave in the first place. When you'd turned around to face him, it became very clear that he wasn't letting you run, from the way he blocked the door with his body.

...the way he's still blocking the door as you frantically try to explain yourself. Trying to rationalize his side of things is fruitless, but maybe you can weasel out of this by explaining yours? That brings you back to the way he's staring at you. 'Miguel would never hurt you', you try to convince yourself, 'he'd never actually do all that, you need to calm down'. It's difficult to believe that, though, as he keeps leering at you with barely contained disappointment and anger swimming behind his eyes.

You're stuttering, doing anything you can to convince him that you didn't see anything worthwhile, that you were just putting a rumor to rest, and it's honestly so fucking cute. Of course he's angry- all his hard work to make himself seem as unthreatening to you as possible just went down the drain- but the way you're trying to make him believe you were just looking out for him is adorable. He'd like to believe it, honestly. However...

"That's enough. You've said enough."

...the way your heart sinks at his tone makes it hard to breathe. "Miggy...c'mon, I didn't see anything-"

Was he always this menacing? The way he puts his hand up to stop you and scoffs makes you flinch. It's painfully clear how few options you have as he moves his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

His guttural sigh is grating on your ears. "Please, don't make this harder than it has to be." As he takes a step forward, you take a step back.

"Make what harder than it has to be? Miguel, this better be a fucking joke, or I swear I'll-" ...the sound of his claws coming out makes your eyes go wide like a deer in headlights. You keep backing up until you hit the desk, and he keeps advancing even as you jump and clamber over it- away from him.

"You make everything so difficult. Do you know how hard I've had to work to keep things safe for you? To keep you safe? Is it too much to ask that you fucking," The sound of the desk drawer being slammed open makes you jump further back, "keep your nose out of my things? You couldn't even put things back where I had them, what makes you think I wouldn't know?!" He's waving the papers- the ones you were just reading- in your direction. "Who told you? What made you think this was a good idea?"

Sputtering, a struggle to find words, as he tears the papers in front of you. He's in a rage. Pissed beyond belief and reason. Could you even reason with him in a good mood? ...probably not. He's breathing heavily as he slams his fist on the desk. Animalistic as he groans- oh fuck, his eyes are red. You've only seen that when he's fighting someone.

His eyes meet yours. You're on the wall, eyes previously darting to find an escape route. "No no no, don't you even think about it. I can't let you leave me. You're not allowed to leave me."

"I don't have to fucking stay here! You don't own me!" Really, you hadn't meant to say it out loud. It sort of just...spilled out. It doesn't change the fact that his expression changes to sheer anger as he digs his claws into the desk. Does he have to stare at you like that? He simultaneously looks enraged and hungry.

"Oh really? I don't own you? If you're so fucking sure about that, then why don't you try me? Come on muñeca/muñeco, give me a reason to sink my teeth in."

Miguel has jokingly bitten you before. A demonstration, of sorts- to show that, like many venomous animals, he can dry bite. In this moment, the memory of it vaguely reminds you of how sharp his fangs were despite the lack of paralyzing venom being pushed through them. It had still hurt when he bit you, but it was just for fun. You don't think you want his teeth anywhere near you right now. It looks like you may not have a choice; he's pushed the desk aside and started advancing towards you again. You very briefly consider trying to fight him...but he's not blocking the door anymore. If he just gets a little closer...

"Do you know how much work I've put into this? Into us? Is it so hard to understand why I need to keep you safe? Are you really going to make me throw my hard work away like this?" A tiny bit closer, you know he can do it. "I can't let you do that. You can't leave me. You're mine." Your nerves are screaming at you.

You jump as far as you can, onto the ceiling, just as he lunges. The sound of his claws striking the wall and digging in is apparent- he was trying to sink those things into you. He's really going to hurt you at this rate, if he catches you. You'd heal, easily, but that doesn't make it any less unnerving, even as you hoist yourself over and off your ceiling perch to get closer to the door. Unfortunately, your mad dash to the door is short lived; about halfway there, something hits your back and pulls. You're put on your ass and dragged violently back towards the wall, and your attempts to pull his webbing off only results in a harsher yank.

"Keep trying, maybe you'll grab it before it's too late." Every pull gets a grunt out of him as you resort to sticking to the floor in order to stop him from pulling you. "Stop acting like a child, mi caro/mi cara! This. Is why. I- fuck, let go of the fucking floor! You know what, fine."

Despite being able to crawl a considerable distance and even get to your feet, Miguel is more than willing to tackle you back to the ground and wrestle you onto your stomach. Your flailing and punching and kicking all stay strong even as his talons dig into your skin. Scratching, latching onto you, as he forces your arms onto your back and and grabs a fist-full of your hair.

You're still vehemently struggling and trying to get him off of you as he pulls your hair to make you expose your neck. He wouldn't, he wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't-

"I don't care what story I have to make up after this. You're never leaving my sight again."

Any time he's bitten you, it's been playful. Dry bites as you two joke about his preferred method of dealing with criminals. Now it's terrifying, and you find yourself wishing you'd just taken photos to go over later. Maybe then you wouldn't be crying out as he sinks his fangs into you, talons deep in your skin as venom is pumped into you.

...he wonders if you'll like your new room. He's worked hard on it.

[melancholiania]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑴𝑰𝑮𝑼𝑬𝑳 𝑶'𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨

｢𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱-𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀｣

𝗑 𝗀𝗇! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥-𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 :,)

- it’s obvious Miguel is an impatient man, no matter how hard he try’s to masquerade as something else

- like some other yanderes it isn’t hard to get him upset

- one move or even if you breathe in the wrong direction could make him crazy

- I also think he would be a full hearted sadist even though he would deny it

- he enjoys the power trip he gets when he corners you and exposes that terrified expression of yours

- if he’s really worked up during this he might even utter, “Mi amor… you know how I feel about that expression.”

- he does have his soft moments but it’s extremely sporadic

- those soft moments would usually entail him holding you close and whispering sweet nothings in your ear 

- he’s not huge on cuddling or sleeping but when he does he basically holds you in a chokehold

- it doesn’t matter how many times you beg for air, all you’ll get is a half hearted hum

- due to the death of his daughter he’s extremely paranoid and controlling

- if he doesn’t control every aspect of your being it could also send him into a panic as he desperately try’s to regain control

- if you ever escape or attempt to he will completely crack, he can’t afford to lose you especially after all that has happened to him

- think of him chasing Miles but make it batshit crazier

- he’ll scream your name as you hide/run from him

- when he finally does catch up to you he’ll sink his claws into you, oblivious to the amount of blood that sprouts from your wounds

- at that point he wouldn’t be able to control himself and he’d sink his fangs into your neck

- eyes wide with adrenaline he’d confess, “You make me crazy… so fucking crazy.”

- all in all he’s hands down one of the worst yanderes you could possibly come across

- he’s a total brute and his brash nature makes him completely unbearable

[melancholiania]

miguel o’hara i can fix you (no i can’t)

[melancholiania]

Sweet Home

idk how the multiverse works so im just fucking up the worldbuilding but basically my hc is that whenever a dimension suffers trauma (too many ppl leaving dimensions, rift in time etcetc), it will create a shield around itself, preventing anyone from entering or leaving as it works to self-correct. 

(Yandere, dark, kidnapping, captive, delusional behavior, gn reader, implied deaths, talks of bombs)

Yandere!Miguel O'hara x reader

Honestly, you weren’t much of a threat. 

It was a rather misfortunate case of wrong place wrong time. One second, you were in your home, mulling about. The next, you were across dimensions. 

At least, that’s how it was explained to you. You had no idea there could be more than one spiderman, and now you were surrounding by millions. Maybe even billions. Here they all were. Heroes, all working together to save the multiverse, returning innocent people, like you, back to where they came from. 

But, according to Miguel, you were a special case. 

Keep reading

[melancholiania]

Belong

Yandere!Miguel O’hara x reader

synopsis: Miguel saved you from a collapsing universe, and he will do anything to make sure you stay.

word count: 664

warnings: DARK CONTENT!!! Miguel is extremely obsessive and a yandere. he gaslights and manipulates reader.

a/n: first time writing content like this, i hope it’s good

The space, or home as Miguel likes to call it, he keeps you in is nicer than you want. It’s too nice, so nice that if you told anyone you were unhappy they would probably laugh in your face. You have a beautiful “home” , a handsome husband, and a wonderful life with no worries. You’re living the dream. Yet, your life is anything but a dream. If you had realized what you were getting yourself into you would’ve stopped a long time ago.

Miguel was perfect when you first started dating. A gorgeous, kind, caring man with aspirations for greatness. He promised you a life of no worry and loved you unconditionally. You didn’t know that he was hiding something so terrible it could hurt your world as you knew it.

You try your best to forget what happened, Miguel does his best to force you to forget. As much as you try you can’t forget the image of your daughter and your home collapsing in front of you. On bad days, days were Miguel gets too angry you stay in bed thinking about your life before everything happened. You pretend like you still have your daughter, like you still have the old Miguel. Of course, he hates those days. He despises when you stay in bed, eyes staring at nothing. He hates it when your voice gets hoarse and your temper gets short with him. This is one of the days he hates.

“I’m trying to talk to you nicely. I want to talk things out and discuss this like civilized adults, mi vida. But you just don’t get it do you?”

“Don’t get it?! What is there to get?! You keep me trapped up here and i fucking hate it!” You scream at him.

“I’m doing this to protect you. The world is so dangerous and this is the only way to keep you safe. I do this because i love y-” he tries to say before you cut him off.

“Love me? You love me? This isn’t love, it’s an obsession! Don’t you get it?” You snap at him.

You’re breathing heavily as his eyes turn bloodshot red. His hands clench beside him as he turns around. You know that if he looked at you he would hurt you.

“Don’t say that. I do love you. More than you can understand. Don’t you see everything I do for you?” He slowly gets closer to you, backing you into a wall and you slide to the ground trying to hide yourself.

“I have only ever loved and cherished you. And yet, you treat me like this? I’ve made mistakes, we all have! Don't make me into the bad guy because I care about you,” he says. His voice is so calm yet so venomous.

“I just-” You try to say before his fist strikes against the wall behind you. You let out a shriek as you quickly cover your mouth with your hand.

“you just what? You just thought you could treat me like shit and get away with it?!” His voice becomes louder.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you try to say, your voice shaking out of fear.

He kneels down next to you, hand reaching for your face before you flinch away. In the next second he grabs at your jaw with a strong hand, pulling you closer to him like a doll.

“You’re sorry?” He raises a brow. You nod as a response.

“Tell me then,” he says calmly, you already know what he’s talking about.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say, eyes peering up to his.

“I love you most, mi vida,” he says, giving you a soft kiss to the lips.

Maybe he does love you, in his own sick and twisted way. You can only hope his love for you can protect you from him.

[melancholiania]

Get in loser, we are going to multiverse