#» it's not about control / or following orders / it's about us — venom.

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and after a LOT of voting, I present you this :) BIG thanks to @that-multi-fandom-hijabi for beta reading this go follow her writing acc rn (@novaaaaaa-writes). Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of burning, stabbing, blood, bad descriptions of both fire of water (ice, snow ?) bending, Zuko is whipped, just a little confused about it, reader is a baddie, water benders unite (not me tho), reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind, reader looks non-threatening, is underestimated a lot, this takes place at the end of season one, I think that's it

Pairing: Prince Zuko x GN!Reader

•──•°•❀•°•─── ʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀʙᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ───•°•☁︎•°•───•

“You shouldn’t be here” you glare, your gaze sending shivers down his spine. 

But that could just be because of all the snow and ice surrounding the both of you. 

The fire prince remains unfazed though, his amber eyes sweeping over your form- assessing the threat you posed. 

He could take you down in seconds. 

Zuko doesn’t respond to your jab though, because he knew you were wrong. He had to be here, it was the only way he could finally receive his father’s favor- as the heir and as the son of Firelord Ozai. It was his duty, his honor. 

And he wasn’t going to let a non-threatening waterbender get in the way of that. 

Reaching back, he unsheathes his dual swords, the glint of the waning moonlight reflecting the dangerous glint in his eye. 

And yet you didn’t back down.  

Pooling some water from your waterskin, you assumed the stance you had trained yourself to take whenever you honed your skills. One with the water, one with the ice.  

‘Power should flow, not force itself” Master Pakku had told you once.  

People had always underestimated your skills, saying you were better suited for healing. But after showing Master Pakku how you could use your bending to control the falling snow around you, he gave you a chance.  

He had told you to let the power settle in your body before releasing, instead of forcing it out immediately. Conceal and then control. 

You met Zuko’s fiery gaze with an icy one of your own. You were going to protect your home.  

With a yell, you form flurries of snow, whipping around your form as you channel your strength to change the form of your flurry, snow turning to water, water turning to sharp daggers of pure ice.  

Zuko scowls, setting his hands ablaze and you run at each other, fire meeting ice.  

Time slows down, as the intensity of your elements picks up, until all you could hear was the steady thump – thump – thump – of your heart, and the roar of crystalline knives swirling around you. 

Flames lick the side of your leg, wincing as the raw burn of the fire sears through your skin in white-hot pain. Razor sharp icy shards cut into Zuko’s skin, finding chinks in his armor, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. 

The snow beneath the both of you was dotted red now, both of you staring at each other, panting heavily.  

“You really shouldn’t be here.” you repeat again, but this time, it was barely a whisper, swallowing down tears as the cold wind of the Northern Water Tribe stung your gaping wounds. 

Zuko growls, grunting in pain as he pulls a shard of ice out of his skin.“I don’t take orders from a little waterbender” he spat, venom dripping from his words. 

You reciprocate with a snide comment of your own. “This ‘little waterbender’ just sunk 5 icicles into your skin.” 

Zuko was just about ready to tear your head off, hands igniting with vermillion flames before you collapse, the burns along your thigh and calf were much more severe than either of you realized.  

You choke out a sob of pain but keep your control of the water left in your waterskin. You couldn’t die, not today, and not at the hands of the prince of the Fire Nation.  

Zuko’s heart throbs unexpectedly, the look on your face too familiar for comfort. The face of someone who worked so desperately hard, only for all that effort to go down the drain. But he didn’t care for you. He couldn’t- couldn’t grow attachment to a non-threatening waterbender. Yet you sat there on the snow, dotted with blood, with that raw look in your eyes. His flames extinguished, without him meaning to.  

You flinched as he threw his swords down frustrated, impaling themselves into the nearby snow mound, standing straight up. 

He stomps over to you, and you frantically move back, but your leg flares up in pain again, and you yelp, hissing in pain.

“Stop moving, you’ll make it worse.” he says, glaring at you, but not as intensely as he had before.  

You want to scream, kick him, punch him, anything, but your body betrays you as he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to the nearest place he can find, where he can keep you safe. You feel his strong arms hook under your knees and under your back, holding you securely to his firm chest. Even through his armor, he radiates warmth, a gentle heat, unlike the flames he threw at you merely minutes ago.  

He hates this, with every fiber in my being, his voice screaming at him to drop you and burn your frail body to a crisp, vengeance for the blood dripping from his own body, but he keeps moving, step after painstaking step. 

You try to stay awake, you really do, yet channeling so much energy from your battle, the numb throb in your lower leg, and the comforting heat radiating off the fire prince who refuses to look at you, you slip into unconsciousness.  

Zuko feels a weight press against his chest, and he huffs, honey-colored eyes catching onto the details of your face, the curve of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the slight pout of your lips as you nuzzle into his armor unintentionally, how pretty you were when you were at peace. 

He stops himself there, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. He can’t have feelings for the enemy. 

And yet, even as he and his troops head home, battle wearing and dejected from the loss of a major battle, Zuko can’t help but think about his little waterbender.  

*** 

When you wake up, the kind woman tending to you tells you all about the mysterious and handsome man who carried your sleeping form across the entire Northern Water Tribe because he didn’t know where the healing center was.  

[shaisuki]

my regrets and joy || bully! satosugu

SERIES MASTERLIST

content warnings noncon, dubcon, angst, talks of abortion, lots of crying, nanami and haibara being the best to reader.

notes finally updated this.

synopsis the reason you decided it's payback time.

weekends after a long dragging week of exams, chasing deadlines and activities is your motivation to continue and push through the week. the promised of resting and a time for yourself where you can snooze through the late afternoon. instead you're waking up on a saturday morning at a bed that doesn't belong to you.

the softness and the scent of sandalwood and bergamot lingered in the bed where you lay. the smell of fresh linen also tinting in sheets. it was dead giveaway that you weren't anywhere near in your dormitory where you shared it with a roommate. posters of different genres of anime you liked are plastered in the walls along with a small bookshelf and your nightstand in your small room. here, it was devoid of any personal touches.

you softly wince when you stretched your body. the familiar aching of muscles and the stinging of bruises and teeth marks decorating your plush body. the smooth texture of the sheets doesn't soothe you from the bruises they made. you slowly moved your body. sitting in a upright position and that seems to worst. the place between your legs is where it hurts the most considering they were insistent on fucking you on both of your holes. you ignored the soreness and went to reach for the bag you brought with you.

rummaging through the contents of it and failing to notice suguru's presence looming at the door of the bedroom. holding a glass of water for the guest they have for the night.

“good morning, princess.” geto said, spooking you off and accidentally gripping the blister pack of your birth control pills. the crunching of the foil covering the gridded pack resonates in the room and it doesn't escape suguru when you put back whatever you're holding in your bag.

he places the glass in the nightstand before joining you in bed. placing himself behind you and he wraps his muscular arms around your round stomach. “continue what you're about to do.” he orders and you slowly reach out for pills you concealed to him earlier. he didn't say anything but you feel his steely gaze following your every move. he didn't even say anything when you revealed what you were holding as you pressed the content of it to pop the pill. there in your palm rests two colored pills. you always take two when something happened like this and since the two won't bother to use protection when fucking you and you won't risk of a pregnancy that you don't want.

there is only what your peripheral vision can do. you don't even make the current expression suguru plastered on his face. tentatively you slowly brought your palm to your mouth and swallowed the pills before grabbing the glass of water and taking a drink from it.

the raven colored haired boy remained silent. humming as he buries his face to your neck and inhaling the natural scent of your body. “geto? can i go back to my place now?” you ask unsure. your heart beating fast and there is a reverberating sound tingling in your skin where his lips are pressed. his hold in your stomach tightens and it started to hurt enough to form bruises. “eager to go back like you have a choice.” he whispers. nibbling the shell of your ear and that snaps something inside of you. “that's why i'm asking for permission.” you snarl. quickly regretting that and suguru raises a brow at you. geto hums.

“someone's a little irritated this morning.” he whispered. his large hand came to cup your jaw, squishing it hard and forced you to look at him. “an attitude this early, careful.” he warns. his voice holding such venom in them that's enough to paralyzed you. “yeah and then what?” you challenge to him. you shouldn't be playing fire but you were so pissed that he still decided to toy with you and you're dying to go back to your own place. away from them and it looks like they're still not contented from tormenting you.

geto stares at you. trying to suppress a smile threatening to curve on his lips from the scowl that is currently plastered on his face. he likes you demure and always so pliant however when you run your mouth like this, challenging him for a fight that you can't win, it always made his cock twitch and fuck, he could get used to this.

it fills you with dread doing something like this. you can't help it sometimes and it felt good being able to stand up for yourself and be brave, if you only were that in the first place when they started to make your life miserable you shouldn't have ended in this situation, in a bed where they forced you to lay and have their way to you.

“oh, what's this?” gojo muses. interrupting the little scene unfolding before him. it was always fun to see geto being worked up. almost breaking his usual cool demeanor over something trivial and putting up with your bratty behavior when you mustered some courage and you look so scrumptious this early morning. wearing one of their shirt from the night before. your soft belly are pressed against the tight fabric. your big thighs are squished together making them look bigger than they already are and your chubby cheeks are crushed by his best friend's hand and that terrified look from your face. it's simply amusing.

“shut up, satoru. this one ought to be taught a lesson. get your ass here if you want to join.” geto snapped at him and he didn't need to be told twice.

“wouldn't miss that, suguru.” gojo chuckles and he's now behind you. licking your now naked round shoulder. your back pressed against his naked body. “we did breed you a lot yesterday and all that fucking, you still have the strength to be cranky this morning. perhaps it wasn't enough.”

then it happened like it always does.

“there's no chance for me to be pregnant, doctor. i was in a two-day coma after overdosing and i was on the pill. isn't people especially for those who are pregnant lose their babies after overdosing?”

the doctor in front of you coughs to clear his throat before speaking up and you pull your sweater closer to you. feeling colder as the minute passes by. it didn't help that you started to hate hospitals and meeting with doctors but just to erase your doubts and put your mind at ease for the sickness you were experiencing the months, you decided a professional would help and you wished you didn't.

“i understand your concerns, miss. being on the pill is a highly recommended protection against pregnancy however contraceptive methods aren't a hundred effective and regarding to your history of overdosing, as much i don't want to say it, it is what most people call as a miracle.”

a miracle.

you want to throw every curse word you know at the doctor in front of you but instead you take a deep breath. collect your thoughts and listen to whatever knowledge he can conjure to help you. suggesting to take a second opinion and order more tests to be thorough but you have heard enough and you don't want to stay any longer at that cold, grey office.

flowers pushed through the earth. decorating the ground with their bright colors and the soft breeze flowing through the little botanical garden gave you a sense of peace and sanity that keeps you at bay. you can't even think of single thought. deeply fixated on the flowers sprouting in the ground and only to be trampled by being stepped on.

you want to be angry but you can't bring yourself to be. the weight of the confirmation hasn't settle down for you to let hell loose. to think that you were finally free and you celebrated too early for it lead you to this. why even you're far away from them still they manage to get their clutches to you?

“—(y/n).... (y/n)?” you broke out in your trance after the call of your name coming from haibara. a concerned smile if offered to you and you let out a small smile. “are you okay?” he asks you worriedly. “yeah.” you lied. haibara doesn't need to know. you bothered him long enough with your burdens. “okay, shall we go home now?” the brunnete beams at you and you followed him in the parking lot.

the ride to the place where you moved out is silent except for the song playing in the radio. haibara hums to the beat of it which made you smile but it falters when you remember what happened at the doctor's office.

there's no denying of it. you were really pregnant and the symptoms were consistent. you choose to be blind like you always does. afraid of what the outcome and the suspicion that you really are pregnant came true but why? of all the times you took those pills and being in the verge of death. it thrived and survived the ordeals your body had gone through. telling you that it wanted to home in your body and it was meant to be but were you going to be bad if you don't want it or was it the world telling how bad you are in your past life and this is your punishment. a life filled with suffering so you can atone for all the since you have committed.

nanami couldn't quite grasp the way how your thoughts run. some days you were you. a regular woman of your age with hobbies and dreams to aspire with a smile that you can get through whatever hardships that is thrown at you. he was filled assurance that you were starting to be yourself after that accident. when you started to smile bit by bit and some days you were distant. a stranger with no direction in life. drowned in a ocean of your problems. sinking in the depths of black, murky water with no intention of surfacing up. forever in the darkness.

he knows you too well and since the night and the day you woke up from what he wished was only a nightmare. he spent the rest of his days knowing you. of what a person you are in your broken shell. in your walls built up high that he patiently climb for you to trust him and it rewarded him you. the real you.

haibara have been babbling for the last minutes and nanami never left his sight at you whereas you find him staring intimidating you didn't even bothered to tell him to stop and there wasn't a smile on your lips while haibara talks. you always find his friend's antics endearing and you always listened to him. laughing at the little details but now, you weren't. your eyes a little dead and your attention is occupied with the gears turning inside your head.

nanami clears his throat trying to get your attention and it work. your lips in a tight line after realizing haibara was talking and your weren't listening and that's what he took the opportunity to ask you a question. “how did your check-up with the doctor go?” and nanami regretted asking you that question when your eyes widen and your lips tremble. blinking furiously to fight the tears and shaking your head off. it was like digging a buried bad memory and he just brought it up for you to face.

“i-i don't want to tell you both about it.” your voice shaky and then a tear drop fall from the corner of your eye. “i burdened you both since the day you helped me and i'm ashamed for all the trouble i have caused.”

nanami was about to say sometimes when haibara interrupted him. “no!” he retaliated before muttering an apology for raising his voice then continued. “don't say that! you're not a burden and it's not like you wanted to be in this situation. you were a victim.” he says and that made you to cry harder.

“the doctor told me i'm pregnant.” you revealed and nanami and haibara's eyes widen. although on nanami's part he knows it. he suspected but never confirmed it since you were fine and it will be you who knows the changes happening in your body. “oh, (y/n)....” haibara wistfully says and then crashes his body to yours to hug you. the kind of hug that a friend will give you. “do you think we'll change just because you are pregnant? sshh. don't say anything and just cry it all out. nanami and i will support every decision you'll make.” haibara looks at nanami and they both exchanged looks. you wouldn't have to go through this alone. you have them.

true to their words nanami and haibara kept their promise to take care of you and supported your decision that you were keeping the pregnancy cause it was there and the child is already growing inside you. as much as possible you avoided doing what a expecting mother did. it was already enough that your growing belly is a proof of your pregnancy but you still took care of it. you didn't bother to take an ultrasound to know the gender of the baby. it's already painful that you're going to be a mother to a child conceived by its father who forced you.

you didn't need a reminder but haibara insisted. he was documenting the whole duration of your pregnancy. a camera he brought is already filled with photos of you with him and nanami. window shopping at the baby's section in malls. nanami massaging your feet while you sat with a bowl of your cravings in your hand. haibara baby proofing the apartment you have. you crying in front of the television. hormones you said and haibara laughing at you. nanami cooking for you with his sleeves rolled up and a apron tied around him. you and your swollen belly in months and the next photo is you having two babies cradled your chest in the hospital bed.

twins. you have twins and in the most rare of cases you conceived two babies with different fathers. it was evident. a crown of hair in their heads. a white hair to the younger twin and a black hair to the older twin.

you didn't accept them right away when you first heard the cries after a excruciating birth you have to go through. cause that cries belongs to children whose fathers laid waste to your being. who destroyed you but in a glimpse of their scrunched up faces crying, a serene kind of calm washes over you. these children of yours are innocent and shall not suffer your wrath and regrets because they were made of ill intentions towards you.

they were healthy. the doctor said. strong and loud cries of babies meant of good health. they cried and cried until they were given to you. little bundle of joys. that's what they are called and you don't want to call them like that. considering you wished for their demise during one of the times of your pregnancy that may be they would change their minds and slip out of you. these are your children now and you would not wish harm for them. they are yours to protect and to love.

“what will be the color of your eyes, kenji?” you coo at the newborn in your arms. his white hair incredibly fluffy and doing the same to the other newborn of yours whose hair color is the same as his father. you wouldn't dare to call nor speak of their names to your children. they don't want to know that they have a father like them. “how about yours, yushin?” you continue to ask them like they can understand you.

of course, it would like the same as theirs. hours from now they will open and show the colors of their eyes that resembled them. not only in the color of the eyes but also the features they have. in the next weeks it will show. the faces you loathed so much but you convinced yourself that it is your children. they may look alike but they will never grow up to be like them. you were raise them to be kind and strong. who will value the feelings of others as much they value theirs.

“mama loves you both.” you whisper and kissing their foreheads. you would show that you loved them for the years to come.

not only they grew up alike, their behaviors started to show similar to them. yushin is a calm child while kenji, his little brother younger than him for a few minutes is a wild child. always demanding your attention and is clingy. cries when you show the littlest of attention to his brother and you would soothe yushin's pouts after giving his little brother the attention. you loved them equally but to yushin's eyes you love his little brother more and that pains you.

at the tender age of three, yushin seems to quite understand how the world works similar to his brother but ignores it as long he have you. sleeping soundly in your arms while his older brother stares at his younger brother. yushin stares right up at you. “sleeping.” he says. pointing to the younger twin in your arms. you nod. “that's right, yushin. kenji is sleeping.” you said to him and he imitates you nodding.

you put kenji in the room and after putting him to his bed. you directed your attention to yushin. patting his head in a affectionate manner. your child melts at the gesture and he slowly descends to sleep and then you put him besides his brother.

you wonder how long you can protect this peace. sooner or later you will have to face them. lately fate is slowly intertwining your life with theirs and you were afraid what will they do if they were to find they have a child with you and you fear it the most. you didn't fear for yourself, you feared for your children.

it was time to strike back. you'll finish what they started and it would be the end of all. you will live your days with your children and see them grow up. it was decided. you're going to fight now in your own ways.

this time they won't know what's coming for them.

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[castielsprostate]

uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.

[yandere-wishes]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her? 

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that. 

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

 You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom. 

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing. 

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe.  They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it. 

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile. 

"What's the old man saying this time?" 

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face. 

When did you fall in love with him, again? 

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless. 

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him. 

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money. 

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be. 

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders. 

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right. 

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero. 

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy. 

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference? 

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now. 

Even though you doubt  Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders. 

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain. 

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask. 

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek.  Sliding from one universe to another. 

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home. 

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again. 

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind. 

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror. 

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one. 

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.  

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian. 

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth. 

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm. 

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit. 

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside. 

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.  

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor. 

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses. 

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul. 

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too. 

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions. 

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms. 

[sunnycanvas]

Hi can I request a part 2 for unfaithful baldwin where he regrets or the reader escapes?

Find her! Find her!

Baldwin IV screamed at the top of his lungs. He was sweating so much. His beautiful blonde hair was drenched in sweat. His eyes wide in fear and shock. Baldwin IV quickly shifted his hair back by his hand as he screamed in his thunderous voice. "What are you doing, does it take so much time to follow my orders"? Knights assembled quickly in front of the king. Shocked at such furious face. Baldwin IV was known to have strong mind and great courage. It's unlikely to see him furious. He manages to remain calm in most tense situations. The knights assembled in front of the king confused. The king's mistress was surprised as well. She slowly approached her beloved but kept safe distance. Last thing she wanted for her to get scolded as well.

"Your queen consort is missing" "Which one of you helped her escape" "Tell me now and I will spare you"

The knights trembled in fear not knowing what to respond. For the queen consort to go missing. Especially when they were given strict orders to keep continuous watch on her was not going to go well for them. Nobody dared to speak up and Baldwin IV 's mistress watched everything astonished. Even she didn't think the queen will be able to escape. "Helping her escape is a crime against crown" "I will investigate the person who helped her escape" "The person will not only be punished but their family as well as people who shares their nearest blood kin with them will suffer as well". "This fate can be avoided if you admit right now which one of you helped her escape and where she might be, right now". The whole hall grew quite and King Baldwin IV waited patiently for an answer. The hall became so quiet that one could easily hear the sound of water dripping. King Baldwin IV waited patiently as time went by his face became redder and his eyes grew colder. The king's mistress couldn't help but think if (Y/N) is found by the king. She will never be able to have same relationship as before with the king. "Baldwin IV is sensitive about his honour" "I know that he is not only upset about her escaping due to personal reasons but also about his honour as well ". She knew the king despite the love he shared for his queen won't be happy about people gossiping or perhaps mocking him that he can't control his wife. "This has taken a huge blow on him" "He has been possesive and careful when it came to her" "Ever since she caught us the king knew she would try to escape". "Nobody thought she would be successful though"

"Quick get the horses ready we will find the queen, I will personally lead the search". Baldwin IV repeated last words with so much venom that it sent shiver across everyone's spine Baldwin IV 's mistress although scared was shocked at sudden proposal ran towards the king forgetting about gravity of the situation. "Your majesty you recently caught another disease" "It won't be good for your health" . Baldwin IV raised his hand up indicating "Stop". The mistress grew quite. She quickly composed herself and said "My apologise your Grace" "As your humble subject I should have been more careful" .

"Who let a woman in knights meeting"

The mistress was shocked since Baldwin IV has never spoken to her like that, "My apologise my lord I will leave right away"

"Make sure you do, it seems like the palace has been lenient when it comes to security". The mistress didn't say anything and quietly left plotting her revenge when the queen is found. "I will ensure to win him back and make the queen's position so poor that she will seem invisible in palace"

"Gaurds, prepare the horses and ensure to send message to nearby Kingdoms as well" "Repeat the same message I gave you today to them as well"

Meanwhile:

"Thank you so much". I bowed against lady Sybilla the wife of King Bohemond III of Antioch I remember one of the Muslim sources mentioned her as Muslim spy but I never thought that it would be true. "No need to thank me" she replied with poisonous smile. "Just ensure not to get caught, erase all your traces" "In case you do, don't tell them who helped you". I asked her again doubtful "King Bohemond III of Antioch doesn't know, does he?".

"No he doesn't" she replied. "Now leave" "Your and mine journey ends here"." Leave as fast as you can, we have so less time right now" I smiled again and bowed one last time before I left in disguise looking for time portal. It took me some time until I finally reached my destination. "This has to be it" I thought as I looked at the place. Hopefully my calculations are correct. I need to hurry before I am caught or else my life will be over. Baldwin IV will be even harsher about guarding me but before that, I shuddered as I thought of his face red in anger. His eyes wide and cold and his teeth gritting. "Worst he can do is severely scolding and lot more restriction. I quickly dismissed myself of these pessimistic thoughts and went back thinking about my original plan . Based on my calculation time portal must be here. Time portal should open inside this river right now.

(Y/N)!!!

I froze. No! No! No! Why now?! Does universe really hate me so much. I could see the king, my husband with group of knights "Gaurds quickly stop the queen". Seeing them approaching I started running as far as I could, of course I was not match for trained knights with horses. I could hear my husband pleading"(Y/N) please don't jump" "Killing yourself will lead to enternal damnation in hell" "Your body won't be buried" "You won't be accepted by church". "Come back to me and I will forgive you". Angry I yelled at my husband "I hate you" "I will rather go into damnation of hell than being with you" "You killed whatever we had because of your adultery" My husband stopped at looking back at me shocked and hurt "(Y/N)"

Later:

"You mean to tell me that the queen jumped in river in front of everyone and was never found".

"Indeed my lady" replied the knight who secretly acted as spy for lady sybilla of Antioch. Sybilla laughed joyfully and said "In front of king as well" "How did the king react". The knight snickered and said "He later jumped in river as well when nobody was able to find her". "The king kept on trying to find the queen" "Finally he was physically retrainsed by his knights" "Everyone has accepted that the queen drowned in sorrow".

"After that" Lady sybilla of Antioch smiled like a excited child. The knight gleamed in joy and said "The king looked mentally dead when we arrived back" "He didn't say anything much" "Later he blamed his mistress saying that she was the one who seduced him" "That it was her fault this happened"

Lady sybilla nodded with joy and said "The king is known to be mentally strong" " Even when he first learned of his disease he was calm and accepting about it". Lady sybilla smiled again saying "That girl gave me more than I was expecting". "Soon Jerusalem will be ours"

Back to our time:

I was found in dead of night by station master near the railway tracks. I was drenched in water. I was asked questions but I could barely say anything in state of shock. I later was admitted to hospital. Soon I was discharged and left for home. Once I came back home.I was happy to wear my cozy clothes. "Finally, it's all over" I took my IPad and sat on my sofa surfing the web. I was curious about how events played out after I left. I did quick Google search and found out:

"King Baldwin IV ensured the gaurds kept close eye on Queen consort (Y/N) of Jerusalem after she found the king with his mistress. She was monitored all the time. Queen (Y/N) was able to escape though. Nobody knows how she was able to escape. Not even most researched historian of crusades can tell. Some historian have suggested that Raymond, count of Tripoli helped her with a maid acting as her spy to escape. While some suggested king Bohemond III of Antioch bribed some church members to help her escape but nobody knows for sure. The king went into his deep sorrow. His disease got infected worse because of swimming in contaminated water. We know now that he suffered with dysentery and swimming made it worse. The loss of queen affected his reign. The king reign was no doubt affected because of loss of his queen.....

I read further and realised how mistress was shunned. How her seduction was blamed and how Baldwin IV was thought to be king easily manipulated until recently rest all events went same with princess sybilla. "Yes, he is not a man to be manipulated" I thought Although unlike before Jerusalem did have quite a few losses like never before, I read further was able to find "Although king died of natural causes his body was never found". This last line seemed suspicious to me. "Wait.. wasn't he buried but his bones later removed from tomb in the late 12th-13th century after the recapture by the Ayyubid dynasty". I had a bad feeling about this, something isn't right

"Ma, Cherie" I froze. "Please not again". I turned around fearful and saw my king behind me looking sickly. "You shouldn't question my sense of duty" "I knew it I could find you ". I gulped in fear. "What did I get myself into" I thought

[thecreaturecodex]

Great Old One, Mormo

Image © @chimeride, accessed at his tumblr here

[Monster Number 1900! And, in honor of that milestone, I am finally, finally, posting the statistics for Mormo, Goddess of Predators. She's been haunting this blog for about a year now, being one of the prime movers and shakers in the Age of Monsters campaign seed I sewed back last May, and have been teasing with NPCs and articles. She was intended to have been posted as a capstone to the "Monster Girl Summer" theme last year, but life got in the way.

She is also written in tribute to @abominationimperatrix. Of all of the people who I have met through my writing, she is the one who is most dear to me, and the Age of Monsters was inspired by us going from friends and confidants to lovers and soulmates last April. The Age of Monsters is intended to be a campaign that ties into our shared love of thinking with monsters, about deep ecology, weird creatures and world mythology, and of the importance of love and trust in a time of global chaos and destruction. I love you, Goddess, my Dearest Friend.]

Mormo CR 28 N Outsider This titan is a reptilian humanoid the size of a giant. She has a nest of writhing serpents for hair and six arms, each ending in long sickle claws. She is a serpent from the waist down, although a mass of scar tissue reveals she once had two tails that grew like legs from a pair of hips. Her remaining tail ends in a bushel of thorny spines. A pair of wings like those of a primeval reptile grow from her back.

Mormo The First Medusa, Goddess of Predators N Great Old One of ecology, reptiles and terror Domains Knowledge, Scalykind, Strength, Trickery Subdomains Competition, Fear*, Thought, Venom Worshipers druids, goblins, gnolls, naturalists Minions monsters of all kinds (especially hybrids) Holy Symbol a medusa’s head in profile Favored Weapon claw (or sickle) *clerics of Mormo can use the Fear subdomain to modify the Trickery domain

Mormo is the Goddess of Predators. She was born from the fear felt by the first animal with enough imagination to see a shadow and think it a predator. For millions of years, she was bestial, primordial, little more than a serpentine shadow, but as sapience developed and the gods began to take interest in souls, her mind sharpened, and she became as dangerous for her strategies as her teeth and claws. Mormo views the natural world as one to be studied in order to best determine what to hunt and how to hunt it, with the unblinking patience of a snake. Her hunts, and those of her followers, are focused to maintain the active equilibrium of ecological balance—reducing overpopulated species, controlling trophic cascades, and taking out species that consume more than their fair share of resources.

Mormo was once called the Mother of Monsters, and many species of monster found throughout the planes are her descendants. Mormo’s descendants tend to be creatures that combine mammalian and reptilian or avian features; griffons, medusae, chimeras and dragonnes are among her creations. In the past, she had many lovers and created new species with their lineages. The most notorious of these collaborators was Typhon, a Lord of Hell and former asura rana, created from the divine mistake of allowing dragons to proliferate. Despite his evil nature, Typhon truly loved Mormo, and spread cults of her under the alias “Echidna”. Mormo cared little for her humanoid followers, preferring the worship of the powerful individual monsters who hunted by her side. But Mormo also had enemies. And she was gazed upon with hungry eyes by Lamashtu, then a demon of infanticide who sought to become the Lord of Beasts and Queen of Demons. And Mother of Monsters.

Lamashtu ambushed Mormo, and was victorious after a battle that lasted for a full day. Lamashtu ripped the baby from Mormo’s womb and raised him as her own; this is Typhon’s last son, Abraxas. Lamashtu tore off one of Mormo’s twin tails, which regenerated into a cancerous creature on its own right. This was the origin of Geryon, who spread treacherous lies suggesting that Typhon and Lamashtu were lovers. This got Typhon demoted and murdered by Asmodeus; Geryon took Typhon’s place as a Lord of Hell and spent millennia erasing his predecessor from history. The blood that spilled from both combatant’s wounds grew into creatures with serpentine and humanoid traits; Mormo’s blood became the first nagas, and Lamashtu’s the first mariliths. And Mormo was slain, reborn as a mundane snake to regenerate in the First World for centuries, and maintaining her cosmic sulk for millennia more

But now Mormo stirs in her slumber. And she is ready to take her revenge.

As befits a Goddess of Predators, Mormo is a terror in combat. Millennia of dormancy and a closer tie to the natural world than other Great Old Ones has stripped her of an unnatural presence, but her fourfould gaze can petrify, paralyze, terrorize or merely strike enemies dead. She is extremely venomous, and those that have survived her venom report, chillingly, that it induces euphoria even as it breaks down tissue into a bloody mess. She uses her fangs (both in her own mouth and those in her serpentine hair) and claws in melee, and can fire the spines from her tail like arrows. One of Mormo’s most recently developed talents is witchcraft. She has made an arcane bond with the phouka Gigi, and Gigi treats Mormo as a patron even as Mormo treats Gigi as a familiar for storing spells. Gigi spends most of her days separate from Mormo on the Material Plane, and so Mormo usually maintains a small spell selection through Spell Mastery. If she is encountered with Gigi, Mormo has access to a much wider variety of spells (all witch spells from the Core Rulebook at least).

The cult of Mormo is small and scattered, but the First Medusa pays it much more heed than she did in her youth. Religious rituals include studying nature and monsters (either through texts or in the field), hunting for food, and mock chases and hunts among the congregation. Supplicants often use makeup, costumes, and illusion and transmutation magic to appear as different types of predators and prey for these hunts. Once someone is “caught”, the result is play fighting, sex or both instead of actual killing or consumption. Mormo’s worshippers value diversity of all kinds, and are often allies of other divinities with portfolios involving nature, scholarship and hedonism. As goblin and gnoll societies break free of Lamashtu’s influence, they often find Mormo, and her cult is growing fastest among these two species.

Mormo CR 28 XP 4,915,200 N Huge outsider (Great Old One) Init +22; Senses all-around vision, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +42, scent

Defense AC 45, touch 26, flat-footed 37 (-2 size, +8 Dex, +10 insight, +19 natural) hp 688 (32d10+512); fast healing 20 Fort +26, Ref +26, Will +27 DR 20/epic; Immune ability damage, ability drain, aging, cold, death effects, disease, energy drain, flanking, mind-influencing effects, paralysis, petrification; Resist acid 30, electricity 30, fire 30; SR 39 Defensive Abilities freedom of movement, immortality, insanity (DC 38), otherworldly insight

Offense Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft., swim 30 ft. fly 60 ft. (average) Melee 2 bites +44 (2d6+14 plus poison), 6 claws +44 (1d12+14/19-20), tail slap +39 (3d8+21 plus grab) Ranged 6 spines +38 (1d8+14) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks constrict (2d8+21),devolutionary nightmare, favored enemy (+6, +4, +4, +2, +2), fourfold gaze, poison, powerful blows (tail slap), rend (2 claws, 1d12+21) Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +40 Constant—freedom of movement, true seeing At will—cloudkill (DC 27), dream, fear (DC 26), greater animal aspect, greater scrying (DC 26), greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs objects only), nightmare (DC 27), pernicious poison 3/day—quickened baleful polymorph (DC 27), quickened bloody claws, finger of death (DC 29), polymorph any object (DC 30), reincarnate, stone to flesh 1/day—discern location, maze, moment of prescience, plane shift (DC 29), shapechange

Spells CL 20th, concentration +32 9th—quickened cure critical wounds (x2, DC 27), dominate monster (DC 31), shapechange (x2) 8th—quickened divine power (x2), quickened enervation, horrid wilting (x2, DC 30), mind blank 7th—extended greater heroism, heal (DC 29, x2), quickened vampiric touch (x2), waves of ecstasy (DC 29) 6th—quickened bull’s strength, greater dispel magic (x3), greater heroism (x2) 5th—cure critical wounds (DC 27, x2), extended divine power, feeblemind (DC 27, x2), quickened mage armor 4th—extended arcane sight, divine power (x2), enervation (x3), neutralize poison (DC 26) 3rd—arcane sight, ray of exhaustion (x3, DC 25), vampiric touch (x2) 2nd—bull’s strength (x2), cure moderate wounds (DC 24, x3), perceive cues (x2) 1st—comprehend languages (x3), divine favor (x3), mage armor 0th—detect magic, read magic

Statistics Str 39, Dex 27, Con 42, Int 34, Wis 24, Cha 35 Base Atk +32; CMB +48 (+52 grapple); CMD 66 (cannot be tripped) Feats Combat Reflexes, Deadly Aim,Extend Spell, Greater Sunder, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Iron Will, Point Blank Shot, Power Attack, Precise Shot, Quicken SLA (baleful polymorph, bloody claws), Quicken Spell, Spell Mastery (x2) Skills Acrobatics +44, Bluff +47, Diplomacy +44, Fly +38, Intimidate +47, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, geography, local, religion) +44, Knowledge (nature, planes) +47, Perception +46, Sense Motive +42, Spellcraft +44, Stealth +35, Survival +45, Use Magic Device +44; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception Languages Aklo, Draconic, Infernal, Sylvan, telepathy 100 ft. SQ no breath, planar acclimation, swift tracking, thagomizer

Ecology Environment any land or underground (First World) Organization unique Treasure double standard

Special Abilities Devolutionary Nightmare (Sp) Any creature affected by Mormo’s nightmare spell like ability must succeed a DC 38 Will save or be affected by a primal regression spell for the next 24 hours. Favored Enemy (Ex) Mormo gains the favored enemy ability of a 20th level ranger, except that she can change what creature types and subtypes count as her favored enemies after resting for 8 hours. Fourfold Gaze (Su) Mormo has a gaze attack with a range of 60 feet. She may change the effects of her gaze, or suppress it, as a free action once per turn. The possible effects are: 1. panicked 1 minute (Will DC 38) 2. paralyzed 1 round (Will DC 38) 3. petrification (Fort DC 38) 4. 200 points of damage (Fort DC 38 negates) This is a mind-influencing effect, and the saving throw is Charisma based. Immortality (Ex) If Mormo is slain, she is reborn as a viper on the First World. Every 100 years, Mormo gains a size category until she reaches Huge size, whereupon she molts her skin and is reborn in her true form. Planar Acclimation (Ex) Mormo is always considered to be on her home plane, regardless of what plane she finds herself upon. She never gains the extraplanar subtype. Poison (Ex) Bite—injury; save Fort DC 42; duration 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 2d4 Con damage and stunned 1d4 rounds; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells Mormo can cast spells as a 20th level witch with the Strength patron. The spells listed above are the ones Mormo has taken Spell Mastery feats to prepare. Spines (Ex) As a standard action, Mormo can fire six spines from her tail. Treat each spine as a ranged attack roll with a thrown weapon with a range increment of 100 feet. Each spine deals 1d8 damage plus Mormo’s Strength modifier on a successful hit. Swift Tracking (Ex) Mormo does not suffer a penalty to Survival checks made to follow tracks at her normal speed, and only takes a -10 penalty for following tracks at double speed. Thagomizer (Ex) Mormo’s tail slap attack deals bludgeoning and piercing damage.

[s10127470]

Marvel Rivals Animated Series Concept

I know this sounds odd to say, but I legitimately want to see an animated series based on Marvel Rivals.

Like, this literally has all the makings to be adapted!

Plus, it would be pretty cool to see a Marvel video game being adapted into television, which has never been done before.

As for how it would play out.

Essentially, it follows the same plot as the video game, but a little more expanded.

Basically, after Doctor Doom and his 2099 variant caused the Timestream Entanglement, Doctor Strange and The Fantastic Four knew this would have disastrous consequences (given their experience with the multiverse)

It created new worlds out of old ones, which obviously cause pandemonium among the inhabitants.

With the existence now being known by….pretty much everyone in the multiverse, you know damn well that there's gonna be a lot of villains trying to use this knowledge for their own nefarious goals.

So, the five decided to recruit the heroes of their world to help keep the balance of this new universe intact and prevent any villains from making anything worse.

In terms of the art-style, it would essentially be the same as the game, but translated into 2D.

As for the animation, I can think of two studios that could do it.

Flying Bark Studios (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Monkie Kid, Glitch Techs) and Titmouse (Motorcity, Black Dynamite, Ballmastrz 9009).

Also, in terms of the universe our heroes (except for Peni) are from, it's essentially like an ideal version of the 616 universe.

As in, the heroes have actually reached their proper conclusions that people have wanted for years, while still going on their adventures and being heroes.

-The X-Men have actually made progress with human-mutant relations and DIDN'T get genocide'd into oblivion. Nor are they on the verge of extinction every other goddamn week.

-Bruce Banner has finally made peace with The Hulk and is now able to control him. Plus, he's finally with Betty. Yeah, remember her?

And best of all….

-Spider-Man is HAPPILY MARRIED to Mary Jane and is a father now, along with being a goofy but still mature superhero instead of an emotional-stunned man child who gets cucked on a regular basis.

Two of the best elements I could think of for this series are…..

The interactions between the heroes. We've never really had a Marvel cartoon with a cast that big, so it would be cool to see this diverse cast of characters bouncing off each other.

Some of the interactions I could see include….

-Captain America and Namor being brothers-in-arm and often bonding about not quite understanding or even hating modern trends (and rightfully so in some cases).

-Storm and Thor being best friends.

-Iron Man and Peni being friendly rivals.

-Doctor Strange and Scarlet Witch being the sorcerer buddies.

-Rocket and Magik being the resident partners in crime and agents of chaos.

-Hulk and Groot being buddies.

-Luna and Star-Lord geeking out over music together.

-Spider-Man being the absolute heart of this team and essentially being everyone's friend.

-Venom and Scarlet Witch flirting with each other (I was kinda split on this one. Originally, I was gonna have SW married to Vision. Since this universe, the Marvel characters actually allows stay in relationships. However, I really like the trend of shipping Venom and SW together. So I figured they'll be an item in this universe. Actually, what other new ships could you see in this universe?).

And best of all….

-Jeff being a good boy

2. The variants the heroes will meet. This would be the Kingdom Hearts of Marvel: you never know who you'll meet next. There would faces from all forms of Marvel media. From the comics, to the cartoons, to the video games, etc. And nobody's off the table. Anyone will get a chance to appear, no matter how beloved or hated they are. However, they will be treated accordingly depending on their reputation. There would also be a lot of original universes to this series as well, in order to help diversify things.

And finally for the voice cast, it's largely the same as the game but with a few exceptions.

Cap would be voiced again by Roger Craig Smith.

Storm would be voiced again by Danielle Nicolet.

Iron Man would be voiced again by Mick Wingert.

And Spidey would be voiced again by the one….the only…..Josh Keaton!

Anyway, that's all I have.

Let me you know what you think about this concept.

I'm planning on doing a pitch bible to give a more-fleshed out version of all this.

And also, what are some variants you would love to see in this series? And if so, what kind of interactions would they have with the heroes?

[muppet-meddler]

Week Of July 27th-August 2nd: The End Of The Roommate Saga

(The Exact Days Of This Week Strange Due To The Timing Of The Start Of This Blog.)

Hello Everyone. This Is The First Post Recounting The Events Of This Week, And Hopefully I Will Make This A Regular Occurrence, Although It Will Likely Only Follow Major Events In The Muppetverse Timeline.

To Start, I Would Like To Say that This Blog Is Not Purely An Archive Blog, And There Are Many Incredible Blogs Currently Providing Archival Content Of The Antics Within This Community.

I Simply Wish To Provide Supplemental Information, Particularly In A Sequential And Specific Manner So As To Help Them With Their Blogs, And for You To Keep Up With And Remind Yourself Of Current Events.

While I May Cover Past Chapters In This Story In The Future, Here Are Some Blogs And Resources I Recommend Highly.

@croaker-conspiracies And Their Masterpost

@themuppetarchives

@the-muppet-joker-archive (Currently Inactive)

@croaker-explained And Their Kermiad

In Addition, This Is A Living Document. I May Add Links To Particular Posts Of Importance Related To The Roommate Saga As I See Fit.

This Post Is Also An Invitation For Discussion And Addition From The Public In The Notes And Replies.

Now, Without Further Ado:

This Week Saw The Climactic End To What I Will Refer To As The “Roommate Saga”.

July 27th-28th

Tensions Were High Within The Apartment Containing Milton, Kermit, Athena, And Sage. The Hierarchy Was Precarious, With Kermit, Sage, And Milton Battling For Blanket Rights (There Were Only Two Blankets In The Apartment. Many Anons Had Been Trying To Trick Milton Into Breaking Rules, Such As Cooking Italian Food/Food Containing Garlic.

Milton’s Mental State Was Becoming Increasingly Unstable, Ascribing His Frequent Misspellings To Typing Quickly While Panicked And Being Unable To See The Keyboard Clearly While Crying. This Is Similar To Common Vent Post "Crytype" Typing Styles During Early 2010s Tumblr.

Milton Claimed That He And Sage Had Met “In A Hospital”. It Was Later Revealed By Sage That They And Milton Are Siblings, And Milton Had Lied About Being An Orphan. 

Meanwhile, Croaker’s Kermit Plush Was Missing, And He Had Just Been Tricked Into Eating Flies Baked Into Cookies By Milton Under Athena’s Orders. Increasingly Disturbed By These Events, He Ventured To The Closet To Investigate The “Meat Box” Contained Within. This Is Also Referred To As “The Rot”. The Discovery Is Shocking And Disturbing, And Later Revealed To Be An Animal Trap Containing The Maggot Infested Carcass Of A Heavily Decomposed Animal. Athena, Milton, And Sage Consumed The Flies And Maggots In A Ritual Initially Referred To As A “Roommate Bonding Activity” On The Croaker’s Blog, Claiming To Be Building Up Energy For Athena To Channel The Spirit Of Gerard Way.

After Discovering The Rot, Croaker Panicked And Began Looking For An Opportunity To Move Back In With His Mother.

It Is Revealed That Croaker’s Plush, Eyeless Since The Events Preceding The Denny’s Battle, Referred To By Milton And Athena As “The Proxy”, Had Been Kept In A Bag In The Closet And Subsequently Consumed By The Rot.

Croaker Discovers That Milton Had Stolen The Kermit Plush Under Athena’s Orders, And Discovers Its Rot-Consumed State.

Sage Confronts Milton About Lying About His Family And Past. Through Their Interactions, It Could Be Gleaned That They Had Been Raised In A Fundamentalist Christian Cult/High Control Group, Particularly The Church Of God With Signs Following. This Group, Stemming Predominantly From Appalachia, Was Known For Its Use Of Handling Venomous Snakes And Drinking Poison To Prove The Power And Saving Grace Of God. Sage Seems To Have Left The Church, While Milton Had Been Disowned For “Not Being Faithful Enough”.

It Is Revealed That The Apartment Has Been Infested With Black Mold, And Is Highly Implied To Have Carbon Monoxide Alarms Actively Going Off.

Croaker Posts In An Increasingly Panicked Fashion, Including This Post Which Strongly Resembles The Parody Lyrics Of “You Can’t Fight The Homestuck” By Kylee Henke In 2012.

Croaker Becomes Murderous, Leaving The Apartment To Craft A Wooden Stake To Kill Athena, Known Vampire.

Athena Leaves To A Graveyard To Further Prepare Herself For Her Ritual.

Sage Posts Increasing Amounts Of Dog Imagery, Referring To Itself As Athena’s Dog.

July 29th

Milton Begins Seeing Things In Their Peripheral Vision, And Becomes More Unstable Than Before.

Sage Reveals That She Left Home Because Milton Was The Favorite Child. Milton Reveals That He Was Disowned Because He Stopped Being Able To Heal, Wasn’t Able To Be Protected From The Poison, And Was Blamed For Sage’s Leaving. They Claim That This Is Due To Them Being A Sinner.

Milton Confirms That They Were Raised Pentecostal.

Anons Drive Milton Into A Religious Meltdown.

Milton Reveals That He Was Drinking Strychnine, A Highly Toxic Pesticide.

Milton Goes To Sleep. Meanwhile, Croaker Begins To Hunt Athena With A Stake, And Athena Is At The Peak Of Her Fanaticism Regarding Channeling Gerard Way By Power Of The Rot.

Athena Calls For Sage To Become Her First “Vampiric Spawn”, And For Herself And Sage To Burn The Rot Infested Kermit Plush. Croaker Is Devastated By The Loss, And “Lightly” Stabs Athena With The Previously Sharpened Wooden Stake.

Sage Tasks Themself With Caring For Athena, Now Wounded, And Takes Her To The Hospital. Croaker Frantically Collects Her Things To Move Out, Tripping Over Sleeping Milton In The Process. After A “Monologued Tragic Backstory” From Milton, Croaker Decides To Spare Him And Take Him Back To His Mother’s House, Now As Friends. 

Milton Reveals Having Spoken To A Man In A Blue Jacket While Sleeping In The Closet. After Sage Posts A Picture Of The Jacket Hanging Unworn, It Can Be Assumed That This Was A Hallucination.

Croaker’s Mother Was Initially Against Housing A Guest, But After Much “Stomping And Shrieking”, She Is Convinced.

Milton Struggles With Newfound Independence, But Is Otherwise Settling In Nicely.

Sage Is Barraged With Anons Confronting Him For His Treatment Of Milton. Sage Appears To Be Sent Into A Meltdown Because Of This.

July 30th-August 1st

The Brotherhood Appears To Be Overjoyed By The Addition Of Milton To The Movement. This Creates A Surge Of Posts, Questions, And Fanart. Unfortunately, He Also Receives A Barrage Of Haters And Trolls, Some Of Which Particularly Triggering And Concerning.

Sage And Athena Receive An Eviction Notice Due To The Unsafe State Of The Apartment And Complaints From Their Neighbor, Robert. Athena’s Connection To Gerard Appears To Be Severed.

Croaker Holds A Funeral For His Kermit Plush On July 31st, At 2:00 PM EST. The Brotherhood Offers Art, Words Of Remembrance And Sympathy, And Howls Of Grief In His Honor.

Milton Speaks Of A Surprise For Croaker, And Later Reveals That He Had Walked Several Hours Back To The Apartment To Collect Kermit’s Ashes.

There Is An Unprecedented Uptick In Croaker Discord Activity As A Whole During This Time. 

The Original Server (Made On Father’s Day Of This Year) Welcomed Milton Among Many New Brotherhood Members. The Croaker Herself Has Been Present Here For Some Time. Milton And Croaker Are Observed To Be Typing And Sending Messages Within The Same Minute, Providing Evidence That They Are Two Separate People. 

User Unmask-Strange-Aeons Created Their Own Server Inviting All To Join To Further Their Efforts In Proving That Popular Tumblr User Strange-Aeons Is In Fact The Muppet Joker. The Croaker Himself Then Joined To Confront The Allegations Directly. However, This Particular Conspiracy Seems To Stand Strong Even Still.

A New Server Dedicated To All Fans, Followers, Haters, And Lurkers Of The Muppetverse Was Created, And Milton Posted An Invite.

Unmask-Strange-Aeons Gets Kung Pow Penis’d In Response To Their Heightened Activity And Creation Of The Discord Server.

The Brotherhood Falls Into A Much More Positive Buzz Of Energy, Interacting With Renewed Fervor In The Wake Of The Roommate Saga. New Theories, Conspiracies, And Communities Emerge.

Athena And Sage Fall Much More Quiet, Their Situation Uncertain In The Wake Of Eviction.

Milton Progressively Finds A Renewed Comfort In Enjoying Musicals, Music, And Fandoms Previously Banned Within The Confines Of The Emo Religion.

Strange-Aeons Vows To Battle The Croaker In The Ballpit Of Dashcon 2.

And So The Saga Continues.

[hotchfiles]

HIIIII!!!! saw ur post ab the bash, wanted to rq remus lupin using the prompt “every time i try to make something right, i always hurt someone” CONGRATS ON 100!!!!

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a prompt and one of my boys for a blurb

remus + “every time i try to make something right, i always hurt someone”

remus was the most loyal person anyone could meet. he would die before betraying the ones he trusted. he would kill to protect them. he was also a big fat liar, and you were still trying to understand how to trust him when those two truths lived in him so easily. he was so fearful of losing people lying became second nature, afraid the truth would be worse.

maybe if he was a good liar it wouldn't be much a problem, but he wasn't. his voice would crack, his eyes would avoid you, his face would be immediately sweaty. then you would not only be mad at him for the original reason (almost leaving you, telling people he would leave you, hiding the extent of his hurt, being secretive about his orders from dumbledore) but mostly because he was lying.

at least those seemed somewhat reasonable to lie about, but the argument you two were having now had not an ounce of reason. "someone flirts with you constantly. you don't tell her off, fine. she tries to kiss you and then you just avoid her. fine." you're walking around, listing what you had heard from sirius earlier, your hands gripping on the waist line of your shirt, controlling yourself, your anger. it definitely wasn't fine. "then i meet her and you tell me she's just someone from work?"

"i'm aware it doesn't look goo—" you cut him right away, not even giving him space to try and save his werewolf ass from the mess he had got himself him.

"oh no, it does not. it looks terrible, lupin, what're you doing? keeping safe spaces you can run to when you do decide to actually leave me?" you weren't the type to bring back old wounds to fresh fights, but that was one that would never completely heal. you would always remember lily's worried voice telling you about how remus asked james for help getting away. or when you woke up on a random morning monday, his baggage still done, his face pleading for forgiveness for having almost left.

"i—will not explain myself again." he kept thinking the more he talked, the more the argument would escalate and somewhere you would notice for yourself he wasn't good. he couldn't deal with that right now. he actually felt loved with you, a type of love he didn't have to exhaust himself trying to earn it. you always just gave him, he was terrified you'd take it back if you two kept fighting.

"yeah don't, you might actually tell me the truth for once, wouldn't want that." your tongue drips of venom, even if barely loud enough for him to hear, the loud sigh you let out after almost hiding away your anger. before he could even reply, your tired steps headed to the room you both shared. the tears you've been swallowing trying hard to come forward, the air on your lungs becoming thinner and thinner. you drop to the floor as soon as you get to it, laying down as flat and quiet as you could.

you needed to calm down.

breath in. breath out.

you spend good time like that, your eyes closed, your mind focused on not freaking out. you weren't jealous, that wasn't the issue, being kept in the dark was the issue. if he just told you from the beginning you two could've joked about it, it would't be a big deal. the lying was a big deal. especially when he tried so hard to keep those details away from you, he was actually capable of being a good liar. that was worrisome.

you don't hear his steps, or the way he leans on the door frame watching you. you only feel his presence when he notices your breathing is calmer, and he lays on the floor by your side, looking up the ceiling, his fingers intertwined on the back of his head.

"every time i try to make something right, i always hurt someone." his voice is quiet, sincere, it doesn't ask for your pity, it doesn't make him the victim. it just is. he's just telling you. "sincerely, my love, i just didn't want to upset you... i was—i was scared you would think it was me giving her signs. i was terrified of it, honestly, merlin i—i'm always afraid. there's your truth." you don't reply for an instant, he doesn't move either.

you roll your body closer to him, his arm finds home underneath your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. you feel his heartbeat. his cologne. "such an idiot." he chuckles into your hair, even though he knows you're not joking, you're not trying to lighten the mood. "stop trying to make things right, you don't know what that is." you say finally, your final opinion on the matter. it was true, he had been running away from every conflict, trying to lie his ass out of problems for so long that for him, those were the right choices. the obvious choices.

it stings, the firmness on your voice, but not only he deserves it, he's glad you're still lying on him, your fingers rubbing his chest lightly. you were never afraid to tell him the truth, didn't matter how harsh. and it never hurt him more than he had hurt you by lying. it actually made him love you even more.

he vows silently then, to make things right by you, and with you, to protect you in the same ways you would him. if re-learning what right and wrong would be the thing to avoid hurting you, then he would do that. if learning to be confrontational, to speak his mind... if those were necessary, then he would. he promises to himself only. he keeps that promise.

"stay with me and i swear i won't be afraid anymore."

[iovetecchou]

If I Can't Have You... ⧸ Jouno Saigiku

༞ Part 1. Part 2.

༞ Contains…! angst, toxic relationship, emotionally detached / mind broken reader, asshole jouno, mentions of blood and physical pain, minor sexual implications (not directed at reader) slightly? remorseful? jouno?

༞ GN Reader.

༞ 1,246 words.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been since everything had occurred. All you knew was that your life was now different. It was strange, though this different felt oddly familiar.

This contrast was something that settled in your chest. But fogged your mind; something that felt strangely nostalgic. Sure, your new normal was questionable. But at least you didn’t have to lie to yourself anymore, and neither did Jouno.

They always say ignorance is bliss. However, this newfound knowledge had set you free. You were unrestricted from your mind, unrestrained from your feelings, from your body. You didn’t have to worry about yourself anymore. Nothing about you mattered unless Jouno said so. He controlled the strings. Something about relinquishing said control; freed you.

You still woke up to no new messages on your phone. But it didn’t concern you anymore. Nothing seemed to matter to you. You still did your daily routines; cleaning up around the house, picking out Jouno‘s uniforms for the following week, and making meals.

It was as though you were on autopilot. Each day was like clockwork, but this routine was the only sense of stability you had left.

The moment you placed the meal you had prepared atop the dining room table… the door creaked open.

“Princess, I’m home! I knew that divine smell from the hallway was coming from our place. Nothing compares to—”

“My cooking. Come, sit, enjoy while it’s still hot.”

He’s told you the same line—

Over,

And over,

And over again.

You could always predict what he was going to say next. It felt as though you were on some poorly scripted sitcom, secretly anticipating a laugh track to follow. But it never came because these weren’t just lines from a script or some job; that you could walk away from at the end of the day.

No, this was your every waking moment, and it would be until the day you died.

“Ah, you know me so well. Why don’t you join me, hm? I’m sure it took you ages to prepare this dish for me—“

“I’m not hungry. I’ll give you some space to eat now.”

Jouno quirked a brow at your choice of words but decided to shake off your dismissive attitude, regardless.

“Some company would be nice. But if you don’t want to, I won’t force you… I’ll just call— ah… what was their name again? The person I was… tangled up with at my office the other week? Oh, I guess their mouth was a little preoccupied at the time so I didn’t quite catch their name. But, I can just call them up to keep me company instead.”

“If that’s what you want, Saigiku.”

You didn’t so much as flinch when those venomous words left Jouno’s lips. Your heartbeat remained on a steady rhythm. No spiked blood pressure and your tone of voice was eerily calm. Jouno was taken aback, by your lack of concern. Sure, he said all those things to get a rise out of you; but no give.

Jouno didn’t even recognize you. For weeks you’ve been a zombie. Following his every order and never contradicting his words. At first, this was best case scenario for the blind king himself. But… you weren’t anything anymore. Sure, you might have been there physically, but mentally? You were checked out. No semblance of life— or will to continue. You were just… there.

Jouno began to wonder if he took things too far. If he broke you beyond the point of return. He quickly pushed those thoughts into the depths of his mind. Besides, he had no reason to feel guilty. He was the entire reason you had a roof over your head. Food filling the kitchen, and books lining the shelves for your enjoyment.

Except, you hadn’t picked up a book in ages. Jouno noted. You used to read a few chapters of whichever book you were currently infatuated with to him each night before bed, but not anymore. And he couldn’t recall the last time you ate. Jouno secretly hoped you had proper meals when he wasn’t around— wait. Was he… beginning to show some concern for you? No, this needed to stop. Now.

“Y/N… Stop this nonsense immediately. Time for fun and games is over.”

“Was the food not good tonight, Saigiku? I’m sorry, I can make you something different. I’ll be sure to make enough for your unnamed guest as well. Do you think they’ll be here soon? I’ll start right away if so.”

Just what the fuck had he done. The old Y/N would never function this way or say these things. He didn’t love you by any means, but he tolerated you. And maybe some things you did in the past amused him. But you were nothing more than an empty husk now. Jouno knew now that he did push it too far with you. And he could hardly suppress that stomach-dropping feeling that crawled up his spine; remorse.

Jouno quickly sat up from his place at the dining room table, making quick strides toward you. Your back was facing him as you now made yourself busy with cleaning some of the dirty dishes that piled up.

Jouno grasped your shoulders firmly, spinning you on your heel, finally gaining your full attention.

“Y/N, I said cut it out! I hate what you’ve become. I want you to stop this. All of this. Immediately!”

“Stop? Stop… what?”

His hands gripped your shoulders even fiercer in frustration, but you didn’t care. The pain didn’t bother you much anyway.

“Y/N please… alright— look, I’m sorry. There? Are you happy now? Can you stop fucking with me now?”

“Sorry? For… what?”

Jouno scored his bottom lip with his teeth in frustration. Drawing blood from how hard he had done so. You truly had no clue what he was talking about. This wasn’t just some ruse; you were gone. Even if he tried to pick up the pieces and attempt to put you back together… so many core components of you were missing. Irreplaceable ones.

“Have I… upset you, Saigiku?”

Your hands came up to wipe a few stray tears that managed to slip past Jouno’s closed eyelids.

He hadn’t even noticed that he was… crying. Until he felt your cold hands swipe over his newly dampened cheeks. He couldn’t help but laugh at how ironic all of this was.

Jouno was always the dismissive one when it came to feelings and emotions. But the roles were now reversed.

“Y/N, if you’re still in there somewhere, please just say something— give me a sign, just— anything!”

“Still in… where? I’m right here, Saigiku. I don’t think I understand what you want from me this time.”

The tears flowed freely down his reddened cheeks at this point. Jouno could care less about how he appeared at this very moment. He was desperate.

He didn’t want anyone else to have you. That’s why he isolated you and broke you down the way he did. But the person standing before him wasn’t… you. You weren’t much of anything anymore. The worst part of it all? Jouno was responsible for doing this to you.

“Y/N… I’m going to step out for a little while. I’ll be back tomorrow, perhaps.”

“Okay. Same time tomorrow?”

Jouno hesitated for a moment from your familiar words. His hold on your shoulders loosened as he took a moment to compose himself, taking in a shaky breath before he uttered,

“Indeed, same time tomorrow.”

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

How did you come up with the au?

Like how did you decide to make dib a vampire?

And can explain more about what happen to dib after drinking zims blood?

*cracks knuckles* sorry, this is gonna be a long response lol

I like vampire AUs, and I hadn't come across one yet that went down a more body horror/disturbing route. I wanted to give the trope a little twist by making his vampirism slightly more cannibalistic and gross, and having it be an alien parasite rather than the typical vampire myth. Plus I wanted to try my hand at writing horror, because I'm working on an original book that will also be sci-fi horror, and I thought this would be a great way to see how people liked certain ideas that will appear in the book. Kind of like a test run.

In this AU, the venom from the initial bite that infected Dib was a serum from the parasite. It prepared his body to withstand the actual mutation (when the worm was attempting to crawl inside and attach to his body), which is why he started gaining certain abilities while also being unstable. Because the parasite was akin to fungi, Dib became sensitive to sunlight and funny stuff like garlic, which is an antifungal.

Dib has no memory of the night he was bitten, but he had been attacked in the basement while trying to help a woman who was injured. (This is the reason the woman who grabs him in the tunnel screams when she sees his face - it's the same woman he was trying to help. She recognized him and saw/sensed he was becoming one of the creatures that had kidnapped and fed from her. He obviously did not recognize her, since his memory was gone.)

The night he was bitten, he managed to escape and get home, and because the vampire was weak at this point in the cycle, she could not follow him. They used the tunnel that connected the mines to the asylum in order to prey on drug addicts and drag victims back to the cavern, but they could not go farther than that, and they are much weaker when they stray from their home.

When Zim accompanies Dib to the asylum the next night, Zim sees the vampire woman in the basement - she had come back to wait for Dib so they could finish the transformation, but obviously, none of that happened because Dib and Zim had that massive fight, and Zim took him home.

Anyway!

When Dib drank Zim's blood for the first time, the serum that had primed Dib's body ended up mutating to match Zim's Irken DNA. This is why the vampire was pissed to find out Zim's blood was already inside of Dib, because Dib was in a vulnerable stage of his transformation, and Zim's alien DNA basically took the spot of the alien parasite.

This is also why Dib's body rejected the worm - his DNA had already mutated, and he was now incompatible with the original parasite.

The human blood no longer benefits Dib in the same way it once did. Like, it'll keep him alive because his DNA is still mostly human, but he won't gain much else from it, like his previous regenerative abilities (when Zim stabbed him in chapter 20, Dib's body was healing way too slow because of this change).

Dib is now "attached" to Zim - Zim took the place of the creepy vampire aliens. He can control Dib, just like the first vampire was slightly able to do in the cavern (although she was less effective, given that Dib was already mutating with Zim's DNA). Dib can read Zim's mind and sense his feelings, but Zim can control his physical form, so they are now bound in their own parasitic relationship. Yay for genetic fuckery!

[doctorofmagic]

What's next?

Blood Hunt is over and, as ever, I feel compelled to share my thoughts and expectations/predictions. And make it double because you know this post will be longer since we're talking about my favorite doctors, and that means apologies in advance ~

As already mentioned before, Stephen's suspicion was debated whether Victor was the one pulling the strings behind the event or not. And I suppose it isn't necessarily true at this point. I see Victor (at least, the current characterization of his entire persona) as one of the smartest opportunists in the Marvel universe. Tracing back a couple of years to his latest appearances, it happened a few times: he took part of Dormammu's power when he teamed up with the Guardians of the Galaxy and the X-Men; he created his own team of mutants, using it to create connections and collect debts, as well as stealing a seed of Krakoa; despite being a flashback, he used Eddie and his symbiote to study immortality in order to save his mother and also obtain the Darkhold, among many other schemes. He is, after all, a villain, and seeks power and control, although his motivations are unique to his character, which means he will do as he pleases.

In other words, Victor is complex. His ego and pride exceeds every hero's and villain's in this fictional universe, meaning that, despite his alliances, he will betray his partners if the opportunity arises. Go ahead and ask Namor. It's part of their dynamics.

(Fantastic Four v1 #6)

And yet, no matter how many times, his frenemies will always end up meeting with him once more, especially when it comes to save the world from bigger threats.

(Avengers/X-Men: AXIS #8)

In short, he's always eager to betray his allies but has a very strict code and takes an incredible amount of pride when it comes to his word. It's very contradictory of him, but it's part of his complexity. Take a look, for instance, in these following panels: he makes an alliance with Eddie, betrays him by stealing his symbiote and, when defeated, stays his hand and doesn't send his arm after Eddie.

(Venom: Lethal Protector II #4-5)

With all that in mind, my intent here boils down to what happened in Blood Hunt and the relationship he shares with Stephen.

(Blood Hunt #5)

First of all, Victor doesn't consider this a betrayal. Stephen used his words poorly, and an opportunity emerged. It IS convenient, it IS shady, and he is aware of that. But that's what Doom does.

Secondly, Victor wouldn't mind betraying Stephen if he didn't respect him. Why am I saying that? Because he has done it before to several allies, as I just discussed. And he doesn't care. But this isn't some random guy who only had something he wanted. This is the man who went to literal hell with him in order to save his beloved mother. They fought as much as they teamed up. Victor saved and took Stephen's life in different moments.

There's this gray area of respect that was totally exploited and taken advantadge of. And of course it was, Victor is an antagonist. It's the drama sauce being cooked here.

But that doesn't mean that this is the end. And here comes an important part -- whether you consider it biased or not by own my interpretations: what comes next?

I don't believe for a second that we're getting a new Secret Wars or a new portrayal of a tyrant. As I stated before, Victor craves acknowledgment, which comes as his need to rule and control things his way. This is why he declared himself the true savior of the planet.

(Blood Hunt #5)

Having the mantle is an accomplishment to his status of power. Or so he thinks. What he doesn't know is the pain and loneliness Stephen has been through by carrying this duty. It's not a blessing, it's a burden.

(What If? Magik Became Sorcerer Supreme)

I believe this is the point of having Doom as the Sorcerer Supreme. It's a mantle every magic user craves, but no one is truly aware of what it means. And Victor is about to find out.

As for Stephen, I've collected all the sneak peeks from Doctor Strange #18 that Pasqual posted on ig (here). And he's really depressed for losing the mantle, just as I suspected. In here, we see that he's reminiscing the moment he gave Victor a piece of his soul.

I strongly believe this will play an important part in the story. Because Jed's Stephen carries such a compassionate soul filled with overwhelming altruism and love. Yes, there's a piece missing in Stephen's soul, but what that piece will do in a heart of iron like Victor's?

See where I'm going with this...?

This is what I have in mind, of course. And, unfortunately, it really depends on the next writer. Some of them really enjoy Victor's shallow villainous side. But if we get someone who sees through Doom's layers, we're really walking towards to an interesting reading. Which means we can expect anything at this point, from Secret Wars level of tyranny, leading the sorcerers to retrieve the mantle, to a wholesome character development that will shift the scales of their relationship.

Lastly, before I conclude this post, I just want to touch some points regarding technicalities. In my opinion, I don't believe Jed was forced to conclude his Doctor Strange run(s) because of MCU!synergy. I'm not saying there isn't synergy at play here, but Jed has been hitting Doom since Strange v3, way before this year's announcement. He IS the one who wrote Blood Hunt, after all. Still, I'm really saddened that he's concluding his trilogy. No one has ever shown such a level of passion towards Stephen and Clea like he did. And I was really blessed to witness it all from the very beginning. I don't know what's coming next for Stephen, but I'm pretty sure he will not be disappear completely. Sided? Unfortunately, yes. It's Doom's time to have the spotlight. But definitely not completely gone.

With that in mind, I'm aware that this conclusion caused discomfort and mistrust in the fandom. It's hard for me to love these two characters who are intertwined in a frenemies relationship and not feel excited about it. But I hear you. I see them both with depth and love them even in their flaws. And I hope that the next story will highlight these aspects. I can always be wrong. But if I can offer just a little of comfort, I will always try.

This isn't a goodbye. We still have the last DS issue. That one will be harder. But we've been through so much worse, right? No matter what, this Sanctum will always be open.

[halfmoth-halfman]

and i wanna kiss you, make you feel alright

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: sickness, established relationship, just fluff A/N: big thanks to @writeforfandoms for helping me figure out what kind of spider reader would be and giving me the motivation to finish this fic!! 💜 if you want to read some fun facts about the spider reader is based on, there's a little blurb at the bottom of the fic!!

You wake with a massive headache, your body sluggish, and legs heavy. You can feel your veins throbbing, fighting against every tiny movement. 

It’s your own fault. You should’ve expected this after last night.

(It was foolish to think the night would be easy, but the worst you’d heard of for the first few hours was two muggings and a car thief. You’d let yourself slip into a false sense of security, and that little mistake had allowed Scorpion to catch you off guard.

Still, you weren't one of Miguel's best agents for no reason.

Using your speed to your advantage, you slipped from Scorpion’s grasp and dodged his next swing, taking off across the rooftops in large leaps.

He’s a brutal fighter, always preferring to be up close and personal, and you knew that. You'd let him land a few good hits—let him think he was winning.

He struck again, fist coming at you from the right as his tail swung down. You dropped to the ground, dodging his fist, and rolled just in time for his stinger to lodge into the ground next to your head.

You jumped to your feet, wrapping your limbs around the length of the stinger before the pale green of your suit flexed and the barbs on your legs stabbed into him. Scorpion shouted in pain, dislodging his stinger from the concrete and swinging wildly. The barbs gave you purchase, keeping you attached as venom coursed through your veins, down the barbs, and into his body.

It took a minute for the venom to take effect as he slammed you down into the hard ground, and you forced more out in a moment of panic. It happened two more times before he finally lost control, and the paralysis took over.

Retracting your barbs, you pulled away and stood, his eyes watching you with nothing but unbridled fury. You got to work on wrapping him up in your webbing to be left as a nice present for the cops and called it a night once you spot the flashing lights on the streets below.)

You should’ve known something was wrong by the soreness in your body when you went to bed, but you’d ignored it.

Now you’re paying the price.

You take it easy for the day, not bothering to change out of your pajamas as you relax in your apartment and tend to your extensive collection of houseplants.

It doesn’t go away. If anything, you feel worse in the afternoon, fighting to keep your lunch down. You’re two seconds away from giving up and going back to bed when your watch pings, and the hologram of Jessica Drew blocks your hallway.

“Wow, you look rough.”

“Nice to see you too, Jess.” You grimace a smile, moving around her to head for your bedroom.

“Are you okay?” she asks, following you down the hall, her visage passing through the ivy hanging from the ceiling. She watches you flop face-first onto your bed, body half hanging from the mattress.

“Not really,” you mumble, voice muffled by your pillow. You turn to face her, head pounding so hard you can feel it behind your eyes. “Unless you need me for something?”

"You can barely get up," Jess scoffs, a hand on her hip. "You think you can fight right now?"

"Could always use me as bait," you suggest with a weak smile. "All I'd have to do is lay there, and I'm pretty good at that."

"You're not going anywhere."

It's an order, not a request, and one you greatly appreciate.

But there's still that little nagging voice that makes you feel guilty for inconveniencing someone, so you have to ask, "You sure you can handle—"

"You questioning my ability?" Jess snaps. It's playful, not malicious. A raised brow and confident smirk.

"No, ma'am."

“Didn’t think so. You just take it easy for the day, and I’ll check in on you later.” She taps away at her watch, turning to head back down your hallway.

“Sure thing—” you throw a lazy, slightly painful thumbs up, “—Do me a favor, though?”

Jess pauses, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell Miguel. You know how he gets.”

Jess rolls her eyes, muttering something you don’t quite catch.

“I won’t say anything, but you know he’s gonna find out, right?”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.”

“Just get some rest,” she laughs with a slight shake of her head before heading down your hallway.

“Yes, ma’am.”

"And stop calling me ma'am!"

Orange illuminates your hallway in quick, vibrant flashes and Jess is gone.

You’re startled awake by the faint sound of plastic rattling in your kitchen.

It’s late, the only light in your room, the pale glow of moonlight flooding in through your window. You push yourself onto your side, body protesting the entire way as you roll to face your wide open door and the silhouette of your plants against the light from the kitchen.

You tuck your arm against your chest, wrists and webs aimed at the hallway waiting for this intruder to make their appearance.

Just because you can barely move doesn’t mean you can’t defend yourself. 

The kitchen light turns off, and your apartment is encased in darkness. You blink once, twice, three times, and your vision clears, adjusting flawlessly to pitch black. You lie in wait, listening for footsteps and watching for the briefest movements.

The hallway ivy gently swings, and Miguel appears from your kitchen, dressed down in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He walks down the hall, a glass in one hand and batting at the drooping plants with the other. 

You let out a long exhale, relaxing into the bed as he waltzes into your room. 

“What’re you doing here?” you rasp, voice soft and sleep-filled. 

“Jess said you were sick,” Miguel states as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

Of course, she did. 

“I’m not si–what are you doing?” You watch as Miguel sets the glass on your nightstand, then leans down and crawls over you to settle behind you on your bed. 

“Bringing you water?” he scoffs. You feel the bed dip and shake with his movements but have no energy to turn to figure out what the hell he’s doing. “Brought you some soup, too. I thought you were asleep, so I put it in the fridge.”

“I don’t need soup.”

“You’re sick. When you’re sick, you eat soup.”

“It’s not that kind of sick.” 

The bed stills as Miguel pauses. A beat of silence before, “How bad is it?”

“Not sure,” you sigh, and the bed shifts again. This time Miguel slides his arm under your knees, the other looping around your torso to lift you up and help you sit up against your headboard. 

“Scorpion caught me by surprise,” you explain, watching him pull your legs into his lap so he can roll up the legs of your loose pajama pants and trail his fingers along your skin–a touch you barely feel. “I think I overdid it.”

“How do you feel?” Miguel asks, focused solely on his inspection of your legs. 

“Heavy.” 

He hums, nodding more to himself than to you. He stops when he gets to your left thigh, giving a sharp inhale.

“Found a small cut. Got a bunch of green and yellow veins around it,” he mutters. “Think your venom might’ve got in.”

Well, that would explain it. 

You groan out your frustration, and Miguel rolls your pajamas back down. He turns to you with a small, barely there half-smile of sympathy. “You need anything?”

“Nah, it’ll wear off in a day or two,” you sigh with a sad attempt at a shrug.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“I think I know how my own venom works, babe.”

“So stubborn sometimes,” he mutters, shaking his head. You huff out a laugh, using what little strength you have to nudge him with your knee. 

“Look who’s talking,” you tease. He rolls his eyes, but you see the corners of his mouth quirk as he fights back a smile. You open your mouth to continue, and hopefully coax out that handsome smile he so rudely keeps hidden from you, but a long yawn stretches out from your throat instead.

“Think I’m gonna go back to sleep,” you mumble, eyes already heavy and sliding shut. “You can go back if you need to.”

“Jess can handle things for a day or two,” Miguel argues, sliding your legs from his lap to help you lay down. 

“I’ll be fine, Miguel. I promise.”

“I know you will,” he states, lying down next to you, “because I’ll be here to make sure of it.” He’s using his bossy voice, leaving no room for argument. You'd find it incredibly hot if you weren’t feeling so awful. 

“So stubborn sometimes,” you laugh, eyes shut as you pitch your voice lower in a poor impression of him.

“I thought you were tired,” he scoffs. 

You peek one eye open, a teasing smirk crawling across your face. “Tired? When I have such a handsome man in my bed? How could–”

You let out a very undignified squeak as Miguel uses his strength to roll you over and face you away from him. You don’t have the chance to argue as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you tight against his chest to bury his face into your neck.

If you didn’t know him so well, you’d be worried you’d annoyed him, but you know it’s only his attempt to avoid a compliment and hide the redness in his cheeks. 

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles against you, a soft shiver shooting across your neck. You relent, allowing him the reprieve from your teasing and letting your body rest.

You teeter on the edge of sleep, slowly moving your hand to rest over the arm around your hips and relaxing into the warm body behind you. “Goodnight, Miguel.” 

The last thing you hear is a soft goodnight, with the gentle caress of Miguel weaving his fingers through your own.

some spider facts!

✧ this reader is based on the lynx spider, or more specifically, the genus Peucetia!

Using your speed to your advantage, you slipped from Scorpion’s grasp and dodged his next swing, taking off across the rooftops in large leaps.

✧ lynx spiders are known for being very speedy runners and exceptional leapers!

You jumped to your feet, wrapping your limbs around the length of the stinger before the pale green of your suit flexed and the barbs on your legs stabbed into him.

✧ lynx spiders have large spiny bristles on their legs and in many species the bristles form almost a basket-like structure that may assist in confining the prey that they grasp, and protect the spider from its struggles.

It took a minute for the venom to take effect as he slammed you down into the hard ground, and you forced more out in a moment of panic. It happened two more times before he finally lost control, and the paralysis took over.

✧ now normally, it's the female lynx spiders that will "spit" venom that can cause a type of paralysis, however i changed it up a little to have it come from the barbs just to keep it a little more gender neutral.

You take it easy for the day, not bothering to change out of your pajamas as you relax in your apartment and tend to your extensive collection of houseplants.

✧ lynx spiders are known to frequent flowers, often times using their green coloring to hide along the stalks so they can ambush pollinators

The kitchen light turns off, and your apartment is encased in darkness. You blink once, twice, three times, and your vision clears, adjusting flawlessly to pitch black. You lie in wait, listening for footsteps and watching for the briefest movements.

✧ lynx spiders have very keen eyesight that they rely on when stalking, chasing, or ambushing prey, and also in avoiding enemies.

“Found a small cut. Got a bunch of green and yellow veins around it,” he mutters. “Think your venom might’ve got in.”

✧ just a little nod to the green and yellow coloring lynx spiders will often have to help them blend in against flower stalks

[thenixkat]

love how much DC consistently just hates the idea of prison reform, prisoner's rights, and treating prisoners like people…

folks in the Batfam debating about murdering the Joker.

again these are the kinds of things I think about from Barb's end on the whole pressuring Ted back into his costume. She doesn't want to be tech support she wants to be on the field with like half the writers for her Oracle run. And sure some of them are just kinda ableist.

also Barb took one break date and the Joker starts a prison riot

also all of these villains just… following the Joker's lead even tho they should know it wont go well if they do and it doesnt b/c he jokerizes them all (which makes them more dangerous b/c the Jokers just the biggest bad ass ever right after Batman) of course the metagene inhibitor gas mixed with the compound that made the villains throw up turns into Joker venom for reasons

totally the prison using those to control the dangerous super prisoners wouldnt have tested shit out b4 hand

and joker venom makes everyone joker b/c reasons even the folks that are not human or have radically different anatomy and physiology due to their meta powers

RIP to Ted, man is not allowed to be in good comics regardless of whether or not real snakes have ears, Copperhead should still be fucked up by the sonic vibrations shaking the shit out of his organs

b/c that's the correct lesson. Never take a single day off of superheroing and vigilance. Sure you will burn out but if you dont stay vigilant then bad shit will happen to yer friends and family

heheheh good for Orca I hopes she gets to eat as many prison guards as she pleases

why do the Joker's plans involve creating a gravity well?

also i guess we had to Jokerize everyone otherwise the villains might not want to listen to the Joker after getting their power dampening collars off king shark is here too

huh Nightwing keeps getting sexually assaulted and that's likely part of why people call him a slut/slutshame him

like I know he got raped by Harley Quinn in one animated thing and folks thought it was funny and also slut shamed him for getting raped so how much of his comic reputation as a slut is just people slutshaming him for getting sexually assaulted by ladies?

of course Batman and Nightwing can outrun a gravity well forming

everyone knows collapsing gravity is slower than a man carrying another human being can run

of course Ted wouldn't know anything that's happening. It's not like the Bug is a state-of-the-art listening device that would have picked up on all of the nearby radio signals like folks communicating. And its not like the Bug doesnt have dozens of Snoopies, mini Bugs for spying on shit that could have been deployed

"The Bug isn't built for speed and power" bullshit. The Bug is built for power as much as stealth and can top out at 600 mph. Also I like how Batman and Nightwing have no issue outrunning a gravity well but the Bug, a vehicle that is built with an antigrav device that is literally how she flies has an issue escaping from a gravity well

just the fact that no one is allowed to upstage Batman, the Batman understudy, or the Joker and how obviously other heroes have to get nerfed to make this happen or how other villains have to get turned into Joker to make shit happen is just so… blatant

see the problem that i dont believe that the Joker has the influence or ability to coordinate shit on this level.

The USA needs to pay reparations to the people of Rapa Nui for the shit the Joker and the jokerized villains did

They can explain the jokerization shit in-universe all they want, they wont convince me that this wasnt an ass pull

Like why the fuck would being jokerized make all of these villains subserviant to the Joker and all work together instead of clashing and not wanting to be ordered around by this one Joker if they;'re all Joker man Harley Quinn looks so much better in an actual clown suit

also the Joker wants an heir so plans to fuck Harley, her consent is not an issue for him. I'd care more if she werent also a rapist

right.. Lex Luthor is president i think Oracle you use a wheelchair why is yer floorspace this cluttered?

anatomy

Oracle you can't hit your boyfriend just b/c yer upset. That's called abuse

also folks still debating about killing the Joker, who's currently dying of a tumor, when like between yall superhero and the USA penal system the Joker should have been sentenced to death ages ago. He's literally not insane, that insanity defense shit should not have worked for him the first time he got caught again after breaking out of Arkham

Nightwing, the Joker is literally a special case. With the sheer amount of his body count and the fact that the justice system has continuously failed with dealing with this asshole. If you dont want to kill him, that cool, just stay out of the way while other people kill him

The fucking slippery slope argument for not killing a dude who's got thousands of murders under his belt. Like… idk this is not the moral quandary that Nightwing is trying to make it out to be.

half way through Joker: Last Laugh like imagine if Nightwing tried that same argument to a crowd of people who've been victimized by the Joker or had a relative killed by him? He'd get mauled half to death like Jason did in Legends

[plzu]

my form is but a wreck beneath you - (Miguel O'Hara x Venom!Symbiote!Reader)

summary: you find out the penalty that awaits you for breaking Miguel's #1 rule: don't let out the symbiote warnings: overstimulation, p in v sex, dubcon elements, no Y/N, implied venom x reader a/n: day 1 (don't look at today's date shhh) of @flightlessangelwings's kinktober 2023 prompt list: overstimulation. the unofficial part 2 of sleeping with roaches. title inspired by Sleep Token's Gods wordcount: 1.5k

“It's too much..!”

“Oh, yeah?”

An endless current of pleasure crackles forth from your core and prickles just beneath your flesh as Miguel mercilessly rocks into you.

“That's too bad,” he says, without an ounce of sympathy. “You're gonna have to keep taking it.”

His skin feels hot and heavy against you. When he speaks, his words come out in a low, gravelly murmur against the skin of your neck. The space between your bodies feels impossibly, deliciously wet. It makes for an embarrassing squelching sound as he repeatedly disappears into your achingly sore cunt; it does little to mask the raw-throated whining that tumbles incoherently from your gaping mouth.

You've lost track of how many orgasms he's managed to rip from you already.

Buzzing like a gnat in the foggy recesses of your brain is something like a gleeful coo from Venom within, like he's pleased with the position you're in. Go figure. It's his fault you're even in this position in the first place, but you're the one getting punished for it while he sits on the sidelines and observes.

Pervert.

This huge building was built for Spider-people, easy to traverse if you can swing on webs and can literally walk on walls.

You are not one of those people.

You're a nobody, who, through some unfortunate twist of fate that resulted in losing your best friend, ended up becoming a host for a symbiote.

As such, if you slip and fall whilst walking along one of the many long, suspended corridors in Miguel's headquarters, you don't naturally have a way to save yourself with your normal, human limbs.

Venom's limbs, on the other hand?

Well. Before you had time to even process the fact that you were falling, Venom emerged, completely encasing your frail human body with his so he can use his strong, inky tendrils to haul you both back up to safety.

Forget the fact that he could have potentially fixed your broken body, like he’s done before.

Forget the fact that literally any of the dozens of Spider-folk milling about could easily have come to your rescue.

Forget the fact that he could have simply shot out a single inky tendril, similar to the other web-slingers, without having to completely emerge himself. An action that only would have resulted in a warning glare from Miguel.

No matter how unintentional, you transformed into Venom in this dimension, breaking the #1 rule you have to follow in order to keep in Miguel’s good graces. (Relatively. The guy’s a huge grump). A problem you're now being bodily disciplined for.

Now you’re flat on your back, wrists shackled above your head by some high-tech handcuffs, completely at Miguel's mercy.

(Or lack thereof.)

He made you cum with his hands first, a disdainful sneer on his face as you clamped down on his thick, unforgiving fingers, crying out. He didn't stop, not as you squirmed helplessly against his hand, not as the second orgasm crested mere moments after the first, not as you bit your bottom lip raw in an attempt to suppress a cascade of apologies from spilling from your mouth.

Sorries were worthless, here. After all, the goal wasn't to get you to apologize (which you already did, on your knees). The goal was to see how long you can go, how much you can take, while keeping Venom contained. An exercise in self-control and obedience.

(It didn't matter that the symbiote was sitting smugly satisfied within, watching Miguel ravage your insides.)

(Like Miguel would trust you if you told him, anyway.)

Then he moved his attention to your breasts, harshly yanking both shirt and bra up at once to reveal your hardened nipples. He tweaked and tugged at them until you came yet again, pussy fluttering uselessly around nothing. (You didn’t even know it was possible to come like this.) Even after your bucking orgasm, Miguel continued rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers until the pleasure turned to pain, and every contact made against them afterwards would just chafe. 

Every orgasm since then has been produced by the relentless thrust of his cock inside you. There's a moment's reprieve as Miguel slides nearly all the way out of you so he can maneuver the lower half of your body. His large hands grip the backs of your quaking thighs, spreading your legs wide open, completely displaying the abused, sopping wet mess of your cunt to him. Pushing your legs higher and further against your torso, he looks at the way your pussy frames his thick length, gleaming in your overflowing juices. Then he slides slowly forward, disappears into the aching clutch of your sex, making you whimper.

No matter how many times you've done this before, how many times he's stretched you out with the impossible girth of him, your pussy can never seem to fully accommodate his size, and he so rarely gives you the chance to get used to him.

No, that could be mistaken for affectionate. 

So you revel in the sweet pain instead, choke on it when he pummels into you with an angry, restless fervor.

Feeling the glide of his cock against your over-sensitive walls, you can't comprehend how this man has the stamina to keep going. You're both drenched in sweat. Some brown fly-away curls stick to his damp forehead, and it’d be endearing if he weren't so ruthlessly fucking into you, contempt in his crimson gaze. 

You don't know how much more you can take. But he's still ramming into you at a punishing pace. It's like he was made just to draw out both your pleasure and your pain, in whatever circle of Hell this is.

“Miguel, please,” you whine. “I don’t- nnh- I don’t have anything left..!”

“We’ll see about that, nena.” He hooks your legs over his broad shoulders and bears down further into you. The head of his cock presses deep against your cervix, the contact making you gasp, exhausted eyes flying wide open.

You wriggle in place, body instinctively trying to get away from the overwhelming feeling of him pressed so deeply into you. But it's fruitless. Trapped between the hard and unforgiving floor and the weight of Miguel's body, there's nowhere to go as he continues to fuck you senseless.

The sharp sting of pleasure that erupts in your core with every thrust muddies your thoughts until all that's left is a contiguous stream of Too much too much it's so good s-so good d-don't stop don't stop please-

A dark rumble in the back of your skull indicates a chuckle from the symbiote. He certainly finds it entertaining that even though Miguel has surely wrung out every last climax from you, even though your muscles ache from being manhandled, even though your insides have been rubbed raw, you still silently beg for more.

Miguel's thumb finds its way between your bodies to your already-swollen clit, making you jolt.

“I can't, I can't,” you sob, shaking your head. There's no way you can cum again, there's no way-

“You will,” he growls, rubbing erratic circles against the bundle of abused nerves. His cock is wedged firmly against your center, a stubborn pressure you can feel fill up your gut so fully. His hips rut against you, and you’d almost swear that he was trying to puncture your womb.

The dam keeping your orgasm at bay finally breaks under the persistent knocking of his head against that agonizing sweet spot inside of you, flooding Miguel's cock with your release, your mouth hanging open in a wordless shout. Your body trembles with the ferocity of your climax, limbs pulling taut until they finally go lax.

Your chest heaves with exertion. Your wrists feel uncomfortable in their restraints, arms almost aching with the desire of wanting to stretch in any other direction besides above your head, but unable to.

Miguel's cock twitches, and you realize he's still inside you, practically plugging you up.  

Between ragged breaths, you muster up the energy to blink bleary eyes up at him from between your trapped limbs. There's almost a hunger in his gaze, in the way his mouth hangs open and in the protrusion of his fangs. His chest heaves with less exertion than your own, tanned skin shiny with sweat.

It's these little moments where the anger and hatred for you seems quieted, replaced with something else, something almost tender and obsessive. Despite your exhaustion and aching limbs, it makes your heart flutter, and your pussy clamps down involuntarily around him.

This snaps him out of it with a grunt, and his lips pull back in a snarl.

He pulls back out of you, allowing your legs to slide off from the breadth of his shoulders. Your cunt aches with the sudden absence of his warm, heavy cock. You think with distant relief that this is it, that the torment of unending orgasms has finally ceased, but then Miguel moves his right arm up and firmly grasps the restraints of your wrists.

His face inches towards yours, tantalizingly threatening and permeating heat. You feel his cock slide against your slick folds, brushing abrasively against your clit and making you flinch in his hold.

“Now,” he mutters, words fanning against the damp skin of your cheek. “Let's do this one last time.”

[honeeysagee]

Supernova Chronicles #2: Games

Part One: Star Girl

warnings: 18+, minors DNI, explicit sexual content, unprotected p in v sex, intense physical scenes, fingering (f receiving), dominance, dirty talk, use of pet names (star), explicit detail, explicit language. Word Count: 7,650

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You didn’t take your eyes off Sam as he paced through your home, his movements calculated and deliberate. This was not the man you met at the bar last night. The playful, charming stranger who had captured your attention so easily was gone, replaced by someone entirely different. Someone you didn’t recognize. Then again, who’s to say that the Sam at the bar was the real him?

His presence now felt more like an intrusion, a forceful shift from the intimacy of the night before. The way he moved, with a purpose that you hadn’t seen before, sent a chill through you. Here, in the light of day, he looked like another soldier under your father’s command, following orders with the same rigid precision. The ease with which he had slipped into this role made you question everything you thought you knew about him, which was nothing.

It was as if a mask had been lifted, revealing the true Sam—the one who wasn’t just a man who’d caught your eye at a bar, but someone with a mission, someone who viewed you as an assignment. The realization left you feeling cold, a stark contrast to the warmth you’d felt in his arms just hours before.

“Sam,” you began, your voice laced with venom as you tried to keep your composure. “You know my father?” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the anger and betrayal coursing through you were too strong to suppress.

Sam didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. He just stood there, looking at you with hooded eyes, his expression guarded. The warmth and familiarity that had drawn you to him last night were gone, replaced by something cold and distant.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice steady but low, almost as if he was bracing himself for your reaction. “I know him.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, and for a moment, you saw something different—a glint of dominance flickering in them. It was a challenge, an assertion of control, as if he was daring you to back down, to look away. But you didn’t. You refused to break eye contact, refusing to let him see the turmoil brewing inside you.

The silence was deafening, the atmosphere charged with unresolved emotions. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of anger, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite place. The man who had seemed so open and carefree last night was now a stranger, someone who had hidden his true intentions behind a mask of charm.

Finally, Sam broke the silence, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority. "I didn't know you were his daughter. You were just some random girl at the bar."

His words echoed in your mind, each syllable hitting harder than the last. Just some random girl at the bar. The phrase lodged itself in your thoughts, repeating over and over as if trying to force you to accept it. Your frown deepened, the sting of those words more painful than you’d anticipated.

Why did it matter? Why should you care so much about how he saw you? He was just a stranger, someone who’d walked into your life unexpectedly and now, just as abruptly, had revealed himself to be something else entirely. Yet the casual dismissal of what you’d shared, reducing it to something meaningless, gnawed at you in a way you couldn’t quite shake.

The warmth of last night—the connection you felt—seemed so distant now, replaced by a cold, harsh reality. You had been someone to him, even if only for a fleeting moment, and now he was brushing it off as if it meant nothing.

“Yeah, I have the reminders on my neck,” You chuckled softly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. You shouldn’t care, you reminded yourself. You had been the one to leave, to walk away without a second thought. But now, hearing how easily he dismissed you, it hurt in a way you hadn’t expected.

His eyes followed your words, drifting down to your neck and chest. The way his gaze lingered made you acutely aware of the marks he’d left behind, the faint bruises and love bites that now felt more like evidence of something fleeting, something that was meant to be forgotten as quickly as it had happened. "Do you do that with every girl you meet in a bar?"

Sam squinted, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge the reaction he wanted to pull from you. His intense focus made you feel exposed, like he was peeling back layers to see what lay beneath your exterior.

You could sense the shift in his demeanor, the way he was probing, testing the waters to see how you would respond. It was as if he was searching for something specific—a crack in your resolve, a hint of vulnerability that he could latch onto. The air between you felt charged, the tension building as you both stood on the precipice of something neither of you could fully predict.

"Only the pretty ones," he said sarcastically, his tone laced with an edge that made your skin prickle. "Now, I’m sure you know your dad’s rules."

The familiar pangs of annoyance rose within you, like an old wound being poked at. The mere mention of your father’s rules was enough to stir a mix of resentment and frustration. Yet, you held your tongue, swallowing down the retort that threatened to spill out. There was no point in escalating things further. The conversation was already teetering on the edge of uncomfortable, and the last thing you wanted was to add the weight of your father’s disapproval to the growing tension.

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation, even as Sam’s words gnawed at you. His sarcasm was a stark contrast to the intimacy you’d shared the night before, and it only served to remind you of how different things were now. How much had changed in the span of a few hours.

"But, while I'm here, there are going to be some other rules I'm implementing," Sam said, his gaze sweeping around the house before finally landing on the kitchen.

The casual way he said it, as if he had every right to dictate the terms of your life, made your irritation flare up again. It was one thing for your father to impose his rules, but for Sam to add his own felt like a step too far. Finally, he turned back to you, his expression serious. “We’ll start with the basics. No going out without telling me where you’re going. No one comes in without my say-so. And you’ll check in with me every hour.”

Your mouth hung open in disbelief. "I don't know if my dad told you, but I am 21. I'm a fucking adult, so I don't have to listen to your bullshit."

Sam didn’t flinch. In fact, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter. “Oh, Maliki told me all about you. The parties, coming home smelling like weed, bringing home men with criminal backgrounds. I mean, if disappointing your father was a sport, you’d be pretty damn good at it.”

His words cut deep, each accusation like a sting. The smirk on his face only made it worse, as if he found your reaction amusing. Anger flared inside you, but there was also a pang of guilt. Some of what he said was true, and you knew it. But the way he threw it in your face—like it was nothing more than a game to him—made your blood boil.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you shot back, your voice shaking slightly, whether from anger or something else, you weren’t sure. "But I guess that doesn’t matter in hindsight. I mean, you didn’t need to know me enough to shove your fingers up me and make me cum. You didn’t even ask my name."

Sam’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as your words landed. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. But he didn’t look away.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice low, carrying a weight you hadn’t heard before. “I didn’t know your name, and I didn’t ask. What happened last night… it wasn’t about knowing or not knowing.”

There was a brief pause, the air between you both thick with tension. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here now, and I’m not leaving,” he continued, his tone steady but laced with an intensity that made your heart race. “Your father asked me to keep you safe, and whether you like it or not, that’s what I’m going to do.”

"We should call my dad and tell him how safe I am. We can go over last night for him."

Sam’s eyes narrowed, catching the challenge in your voice, and a dangerous glint flashed in his gaze. Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The tension between you crackled in the air, thick and electric, as he unlocked the screen.

“You want to call your dad?” he asked, his voice low and edged with a dark intensity. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Before you could respond, Sam’s fingers moved deftly over the screen, and in an instant, he had your father’s contact pulled up. The name “Maliki” glowed ominously on the screen as he pressed the phone into your hand, the weight of it heavy with the unspoken threat hanging in the air.

“Here,” he said, his tone cold and challenging. “Tell him everything. Let’s see how safe you really are under my watch.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the phone, the reality of what he was pushing you to do hitting you like a tidal wave. The ringing had already started, the sound echoing in your ears, and you realized with a jolt that Sam had already dialed the number. There was no turning back now.

“Go on,” Sam urged, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “Or should I tell him for you? I’m sure he’d love to hear every detail about last night, how his daughter got herself into a situation she can’t control.”

The phone continued to ring in your hand, vibrating slightly with each passing second. Sam waited to see how you would respond. The pressure was suffocating, the air between you thick with tension that seemed to tighten around your throat.

With each ring, the urge to push the phone away grew stronger, but so did the defiant part of you that refused to let Sam see you flinch. Your grip on the phone tightened as you weighed your options, knowing that whatever happened next would set the tone for everything that followed.

“Go ahead,” Sam taunted, his voice deceptively calm, though the undercurrent of dominance was unmistakable. “Or are you too scared to let Daddy know what his little girl’s been up to?”

The words cut deep, stoking the embers of your anger. You raised your head, meeting his gaze with a fierceness that belied the turmoil inside you. “Fuck you,” you shot back, the words sharp and bitter.

“Tempting, Star,” he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a cold, almost mocking smile. The phone suddenly stopped ringing, plunging the room into an oppressive silence. Your father’s voicemail picked up, the familiar voice on the recording a stark reminder of the reality waiting on the other end of the line.

The sound of that nickname sent a shiver down your spine. Star. He said it like he knew you, like he had some claim on you now. The way the name rolled off his tongue was both unsettling and eerily intimate, bringing back flashes of the night before—when things were simpler, when the stakes didn’t feel as high.

“Star,” you repeated under your breath, more to yourself than to him, trying to reconcile the man standing in front of you with the one you thought you knew just hours ago.

Sam's proximity was suffocating, the heat of his breath against your ear making it hard to think clearly. The playful allure from the night before had vanished, replaced by something darker, something that made your pulse race for entirely different reasons.

“Yeah, Star,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “And if you do what I say, we’ll get along just fine. But if you want to make things difficult, I won’t hesitate to remind you who’s really in control here.”

The voicemail beeped, breaking the tension momentarily. But the silence that followed was thick, pregnant with the unspoken threats and the weight of the situation you found yourself in.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure, even as your mind raced to figure out what to do next. There was something about the way Sam used that nickname, the way he leaned in just a little too close, that made it clear he wasn’t the same man you met at the bar.

“So what’s it gonna be, Star?” Sam’s voice was low, filled with a cold confidence that made it clear he wasn’t asking for permission. “Are you going to make this easy, or are we going to have a problem?”

You knew there was more to this than what he was saying. This wasn’t just about following orders. It was about power, control, and the twisted game you’d somehow been dragged into.

And now, you decided to play.

Steeling yourself, you tilted your chin up slightly, refusing to let him see any hint of fear or hesitation. You could feel the tension between you, taut like a wire, and you knew that whatever move you made next would set the tone for everything that followed.

“No, Sam,” you said, your voice calm but laced with defiance. “We won’t have a problem. At all.”

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed through Sam’s eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He leaned back slightly, a small, almost approving smile curving his lips.

“Good,” he replied, the word carrying a subtle note of satisfaction. It was as if he hadn’t expected you to push back, and now that you had, he was more intrigued than annoyed. He studied you for a moment longer, as if trying to gauge how serious you were.

But you didn’t flinch. You held his gaze, letting him know you weren’t afraid, that you weren’t going to be easily intimidated. If he wanted to play this game, you were ready to meet him move for move.

“Just remember,” Sam continued, his tone casual but with an unmistakable undercurrent of authority, “we’re on the same side here. Keep that in mind, and things will go smoothly.”

With that, he turned away, his attention shifting to something else in the room, as if the conversation had been nothing more than a minor detour. But you knew better. This was far from over, and every word exchanged had only set the stage for what was to come.

"And before you go up to your room, do the dishes," Sam added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

It was a small command, almost mundane, but the way he said it made it clear that this was just another way to assert control. You felt a spark of irritation flare up inside you, but you kept your expression neutral, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled up.

“Fine,” you replied, your voice steady. You turned on your heel and headed towards the kitchen, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. The dishes in the sink were the last thing you wanted to deal with, but right now, it wasn’t about the dishes. It was about the message Sam was sending, and you weren’t about to let him think he had won.

As you reached the sink, you took a deep breath, calming the frustration simmering beneath the surface. You weren’t going to let him push you around, but you also knew you had to be smart about how you handled this. This was just the beginning, and you needed to stay sharp if you were going to figure out what Sam’s real game was.

But for now, you’d wash the dishes. And then, you’d figure out your next move.

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Night had fallen once again, wrapping the world in a blanket of shadows and stillness. The familiar hum of the night settled around you, the silence almost comforting after the tension-filled day. The house felt different now, its usual warmth replaced by a sense of unease, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

Sam, quiet downstairs, had circled the house around five times, each lap a reminder of his constant presence. He would pause at your door, his knock soft but insistent, each time bringing with him a barrage of unnecessary questions.

“Don't you have friend to visit or something?”

“Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend or something?”

“What do you like to eat or whatever?”

They were questions you knew were meant to probe, to pry into your life in ways that felt invasive, but you let him. You let him ask, let him hover just outside the boundary of what was acceptable, because you needed to know what he was really after.

You gave him answers, short and clipped, but enough to satisfy his curiosity. You didn’t reveal too much, didn’t let on that you were watching him just as closely as he was watching you. Each question, each interaction, was a piece of a puzzle you were slowly putting together. The more he asked, the more you understood that this was about more than just following your father’s orders.

Sam was searching for something, testing your limits, seeing how far he could push before you pushed back. And as much as it annoyed you, you were equally intrigued. There was something about Sam, about the way he operated, that kept you on edge—but also kept you curious. He was a puzzle you hadn’t quite solved yet, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the challenge.

Plus, you had looked at his files.

It wasn’t difficult; your father was meticulous but not infallible. You knew where he kept his private documents, and it had only taken a few minutes to find the one with Sam’s name on it. Sam Wilson wasn’t just some random soldier assigned to babysit you—he was highly trained, with a background that made him both dangerous and invaluable.

His record was spotless, his skills unmatched, and his loyalty to your father was evident. But there were gaps in his history, parts of his life that were redacted, as if someone had gone to great lengths to keep certain details hidden. That intrigued you even more.

You pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind and continued getting dressed. The tight dress you chose hugged your curves in all the right places, the light pink and purple fabric clinging to your waist and accentuating your figure. The open back added a touch of daring, while the design pushed your breasts up just enough to draw attention.

As you adjusted the dress, smoothing it over your hips, you couldn’t help but admire the way it made you look. It was a statement piece, a way to reclaim control in a situation that felt anything but. Tonight, you wouldn’t let Sam—or anyone else—dictate how you felt. And, maybe, you wore this just for him.

You stepped out of your room and into the hall, the soft click of your heels echoing against the hardwood floor. Each step was deliberate, a reminder that you were in control. The dress clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating every curve, every line. As you descended the stairs, the sound of the TV grew louder, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of Sam's gaze when you finally stepped into the living room.

He was sitting on the couch, but the moment he saw you, he stilled, his eyes locking onto you with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. His gaze roamed over your body, taking in the way the light pink and purple fabric hugged your waist, how it pushed up your breasts and highlighted your figure. There was no mistaking the look on his face—he was practically drooling.

You picked up your purse from the side table, feeling the weight of Sam's stare with every step you took. His eyes followed the curve of your hips, lingering on the exposed skin of your back, the way the dress clung to you in all the right places. It was as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

As you turned to leave, you could feel the tension in the room thickening, like a coil wound too tight. You paused, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and caught the flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that made your heart skip a beat.

"Don't wait up," you added, your tone teasing but with an edge that matched his own.

Sam leaned back on the couch, his gaze still fixed on you. "I won't," he replied, but the way he said it made you doubt it.

With a final smirk, you walked out the door, feeling the heat of his eyes on you until the very last moment.

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The night out had been a disappointment. The parties felt empty, the conversations hollow, and no one—neither man nor woman—captured your interest. As you moved through the crowd, you realized that the thrill you were seeking, the attention you craved, was nowhere to be found in the glitz and noise.

The truth was, the only person whose attention you really wanted was back at your house. The thought of Sam, with his intense gaze and commanding presence, lingered in the back of your mind, pulling you back to where you knew you truly wanted to be.

Yet, the realization that the person you were drawn to was your dad's best friend made you uncomfortable. It was a line you knew you shouldn’t cross, a boundary that felt wrong even as you found yourself inching closer to it. The thought of Sam's eyes on you, his voice in your ear, filled you with a mix of desire and guilt that gnawed at you, making it hard to breathe. Craving him went against everything you thought you knew about yourself, but the pull was undeniable, and that scared you more than anything.

As you stepped into the house, the internal struggle that had plagued you earlier melted away. All that mattered now was the undeniable pull you felt toward Sam. Desire coursed through you, and the thought of him begging for you, wanting you just as desperately, ignited something fierce within. The unspoken game between you two—the tension, the challenge, the anticipation—was thrilling. You wanted to push the boundaries, to see just how far you could take it before he broke.

"You're home early," Sam's voice cut through the silence like a blade, smooth and deliberate, carrying that familiar edge. "How was the night, Star?" That nickname again, the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air as you locked eyes with him. "It was… great," you replied, your voice soft but laced with the challenge. "Seems like the worst part of my night might just be coming home."

You could see the way his gaze darkened, the corners of his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.Sam’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your words. He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, the air growing thicker with the tension. "Oh, is that so?" His voice was low, teasing, as if daring you to keep up the act.

You tilted your head, holding his gaze. "Maybe I was expecting something more exciting when I got home," you shot back, your tone light but edged with something more. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Careful what you wish for, Star," he warned, the words dripping with a mixture of amusement and something darker. His gaze flickered down your body, taking in every detail of your dress, the way it hugged your curves, accentuating everything he had been eyeing since you walked out the door.

"Maybe I’m looking for trouble," you replied, meeting his stare with one of your own, the invisible game between you two only getting more intense. Sam’s eyes darkened, the playful glint fading as something more intense took its place. He closed the distance between you in one swift step, his hand brushing against your arm as he leaned in closer.

"You know we shouldn't be doing this." The words left Sam's lips, a simple declaration of the inevitable, but somehow, the sentence seemed to slip in one ear and out the other, ignored by the both of you.

Sam’s eyes bore into yours, the tension between you palpable. There was a flicker of hesitation, a brief moment where sanity tried to claw its way back into the forefront of your mind. But it was drowned out by the intensity of the situation, the undeniable pull that had been building between you since the night you first met. "Doing what exactly? I'm just having a talk with you," you said, smacking your lips as you pushed your eyebrows closer together, feigning concern. "Unless, you don’t think this is just talking."

Sam’s gaze darkened with a mix of amusement and challenge. He leaned in slightly, the proximity making the air between you crackle, “Oh, I’m sure there’s more to it than just talking,” He replied, his voice a low murmur that carried a hint of something dangerous. “But if you want to pretend otherwise, I’m not going to stop you.”

You looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, the hint of a shy smile on your lips. “I’m just trying to understand where this conversation might go,” you said softly, your voice almost pure. “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal.”

Sam’s gaze was anything but innocent. His eyes burned with unrestrained lust as he took in your every movement. “Sleep,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I should… sleep.”

You couldn’t help but tease him, a smile forming on your lips. “Together?” you asked, the question laced with playful curiosity. Sam’s breath hitched, and his eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your boldness. He shifted closer, his gaze locked onto yours with a heated intensity. “You’re really pushing it,” he said, his voice a low growl, barely containing his desire.

You watched him, your smile growing, enjoying the effect you had on him. “Just curious,” you said innocently, your tone playful yet suggestive. “Or maybe I just want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

Before you could react, his lips were on yours, urgent and demanding, pulling you into a kiss that was as fierce as it was intoxicating. Sam’s eyes darkened further, his primal hunger evident in every line of his face. He took a decisive step closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. “Fuck it,” he murmured.

His breaths were ragged, his desire evident as he explored your lips with a fervor that left you breathless. You could feel the urgency in every touch, every caress, as if he were trying to make up for lost time.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with lust, his expression a mix of satisfaction and longing. He rested his forehead against yours, his breaths mingling with yours, both of you catching your breath after the fervent kiss.

Sam's eyes were fixed on you, his expression a mix of desire and frustration. “Get out of this dress before I lose my mind,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. His gaze was intense, filled with an unspoken need that made it clear he was struggling to keep his composure. The urgency in Sam’s voice was palpable, making your pulse quicken. You met his intense gaze, a small, mischievous smile playing on your lips. “If you’re so desperate,” you teased softly, “maybe you should help me.”

You slowly started to undo the zipper of your dress, giving him a playful glance as you revealed a bit more skin with each movement. Sam’s eyes followed every motion, his breath growing heavier with each passing second. He stepped closer, his hands almost reaching out to assist, but he stopped himself, the restraint adding to the tension in the room.

As you slipped out of the dress, letting it fall to the floor, you took a step toward him, your confidence growing with every step. Sam’s gaze was fixed on you, his control slipping as he took in the sight before him.

Sam’s hands were suddenly on your waist, pulling you into him until there was no space left between you. You placed your hands on the back of his neck, leaning into the kiss with an intensity you hadn’t planned on. He was irresistible—every touch, every taste was too captivating.

As his lips claimed yours, Sam’s hands roamed with a possessive urgency. His fingers found their way beneath the fabric of your dress, gripping your hips firmly. You moaned softly into the kiss, the pleasure making it hard to think clearly.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “What are we doing?” You whispered, your voice breathless. Sam shrugged casually, his eyes gleaming with a dark promise. “Let’s find out,” he replied, his smirk widening as he drew you closer once more.He lifted me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist as he kissed me deeply. I tangled my fingers in his hair, feeling the heat of the moment as he lowered me onto the couch. His lips never left mine, even as his hands worked deftly to unzip my jacket and toss it aside.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze roamed over my body with a smoldering intensity that spoke volumes. “You look so good,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His hands rested on my sides, his thumb brushing over the lace that was coming undone.

“Then, make me feel good too,” I whispered, my voice breathless. In a heartbeat, Chris’s fingers were at my bra, swiftly undoing it and discarding it as he continued to explore me with a mix of urgency and longing. His fingers cupped your breast, teasing your nipple while his lips traveled down to your stomach. You gasped as his tongue traced just above your panty line, sending jolts of electricity through you. Looking down, you caught his smirk, which only fueled the fire building inside you.

He pushed your panties to the side and ran his tongue over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched your back, unable to contain your reaction. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, blurring your vision and heightening every sensation as he continued to drive you closer to the edge.

“Sam,” You warned, trying to move away from his mouth as you buckled your hips. “I can’t.”

Sam’s hand clamped over your mouth, his grip firm as he pressed down on your waist. His strength was surprising, given how he’d been so teasing moments before. “You can take it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin before he resumed his relentless focus. His tongue moved with a maddening skill, creating waves of pleasure that made it hard to think. Then, he pulled back slightly, his voice low and commanding. “Turn over.”

You turned over onto your stomach and got on your knees, but Sam’s hands guided you down until your ass was elevated, exposed and vulnerable. He let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Look how wet you are,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he positioned his tip close to your entrance. You could feel the heat radiating from him, making your senses sharpen and your pulse race.

His cock brushed against you with a tantalizing pressure, making your breath hitch. Your eyes rolled back instinctively as you felt the size of his tip pressing against your entrance, a promise of what was to come. Sam’s hand rested on your side, his fingers splayed possessively as he leaned in closer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a blend of concern and desire, but the question was more about reassurance for him than for you. You could barely find the words, caught between the rising intensity of the moment and the overwhelming urge to surrender. You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your readiness, knowing full well that Sam was about to push you to your limits.

He guided himself in slowly, the head of his cock slipping past your entrance, making you gasp at the initial stretch. Sam’s movements were deliberate and controlled, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he adjusted to the tightness of your body. He continued to push in, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

The sensation of him filling you up was both intense and overwhelming, every muscle in your body taut with anticipation. Sam grunted softly, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first but quickly gaining in force and rhythm.

As he found a steady pace, you were lost in the mix of pleasure and pain, the raw intensity of each thrust sending you closer to the edge. His movements were powerful, each one driving deeper, and the heat between you was almost unbearable. You clung to the edge of the couch, your body arching with each powerful thrust, your moans and gasps filling the room as you surrendered to the relentless rhythm.

Sam’s grip tightened, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts as he continued to drive into you. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined pleasure, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and completely immersed in the experience.

He wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling your head back so that you were forced to look up at him. His golden chain swung tantalizingly close to your face, its polished gleam almost hypnotic against the dim lighting of the room. Sam’s breath was hot on your neck as he pushed in deeper, the thickness of his cock stretching you in ways that made your body shiver.

You gasped, your entire body tensing as you tried to adjust to the fullness. “Damn, how big are you?” you managed to breathe out, the words coming out in a mixture of awe and disbelief. Sam’s chuckle was deep and rich, sending vibrations through his chest and resonating with your own shaky breaths.

“I’ll be gentle if you can’t take it,” he murmured, his voice a blend of teasing and genuine concern, a contrast to the raw desire in his eyes.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark with a primal intensity, his smirk lazy but confident. His tongue traced his lips as if savoring the anticipation. “I can take it,” you mumbled, your voice trembling as you settled back down, steeling yourself for the relentless rhythm he was about to set.

Sam began thrusting slowly, each movement calculated and deep, filling you with a deliberate, throbbing pressure. Soft moans slipped from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, losing yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts. The slow, deliberate pace only heightened the tension, making each stroke feel like a build-up to something explosive.

He pulled out almost completely, leaving you craving the fullness before driving back in with more force. Each thrust grew more intense, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls. You could feel the heat and hardness of him stretching you, the pressure building with every deep, penetrating stroke.

“Thought you said you’d be gentle,” you managed to utter, your voice a mix of surprise and pleasure, as you looked back at him with wide eyes.

Sam’s smirk widened, his gaze never leaving yours. “Gentle’s overrated,” he replied, his voice laced with both satisfaction and challenge. His thrusts quickened, each one more powerful than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with a relentless, almost brutal rhythm. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back against him as he drove into you, making it clear that there was no going back from this.

Sam’s grip on your waist tightened as he lifted you up, the change in position only intensifying the sensations. You straddled him on the couch, feeling every inch of him as he continued to thrust upward. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips with a possessive urgency.

He leaned back, his eyes never leaving your flushed face. Each thrust was deliberate and deep, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that made your moans escape in desperate gasps. His rhythm was steady but unyielding, the force of his movements driving you closer to the edge.

With every thrust, Sam’s breathing grew more ragged, and his hands moved to explore your body with increasing fervor. His fingertips traced the curves of your waist, sliding over the skin, and then gripping your hips tighter as he drove into you with a raw intensity. The sound of your mingled gasps and his grunts filled the room, blending with the steady rhythm of his thrusts.

“You feel so fucking good,” Sam growled, his voice husky with lust. He pulled you down closer to him, forcing you to grind against him with each thrust. The friction was nearly unbearable, pushing you further into a state of blissful abandon.

You tilted your head back, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on. His relentless pace, combined with the way he moved you against him, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each movement seemed to amplify the pleasure, making your senses blur.

In the midst of it all, Sam's grip on your hips became almost bruising, his control over you complete. “Take it,” He repeated, his voice more of a growl now. “Come on, show me why your my Star.”

The room seemed to close in around you, filled with the heady mix of your moans and his labored breaths. With every thrust, every claim, Sam pushed you closer to the brink, the overwhelming intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and completely lost in the sensation.

He pressed his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he gripped your hips, guiding your movements with a firm, rhythmic pressure. The sensation of his thrusts grew more intense, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Another high-pitched whine escaped your lips as he quickened his pace, driving you wild with pleasure. The coil in your stomach tightened, a growing pressure that made your breaths come in gasps.

"Sam," you moaned, your voice trembling as you leaned in close, your words brushing against his ear. The sound of your moan fueled his desire, making him push even harder. He continued to drive into you, his pace relentless and urgent. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and on the brink. He increased his pace, thrusting in and out of you with a forceful rhythm that seemed to drown out your pleas. Your hand found its place on his shoulder, using it for support as you bounced harder against him. He slapped your ass once more, the sting sharp but electrifying, urging you to move faster.

Finally, a wave of intense pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably. You let out a loud, guttural moan, your body quivering as you rode the crest of your orgasm. Sam, breathing heavily, pulled out just in time, his groans mixing with yours as he released beneath you.

He stayed seated, his grip on your hips firm but gentle as he helped you steady yourself. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat and sex. You could feel the residual warmth of his release against your skin, adding a final layer to the heady afterglow of your climax.

Sam’s breathing slowly returned to normal as he gazed up at you with a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender after the raw intensity of moments before.

Sam's eyes, still dark with lust, softened as he looked up at you. He ran his fingers gently through your hair, his touch a stark contrast to the earlier roughness. The room was filled with the heavy, lingering scent of sweat and sex, adding a tangible weight to the shared silence that followed.

He drew you closer, his hands still resting lightly on your hips, as if trying to anchor both of you in the moment of calm that had followed the storm of passion. His gaze was filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. "You’re incredible," Sam murmured, his voice rough yet softened by the vulnerability of the moment. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort but finding only a shared, profound connection.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss that contrasted sharply with the intense passion of moments before. It was a kiss filled with gratitude and lingering affection, a silent acknowledgment of the intensity you had both just experienced. As you pulled back slightly, you caught his eye again, the playful glint in your eyes hinting at the aftermath of your shared moment. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whispered, your voice soft but carrying a hint of warmth and appreciation.

You straightened yourself, feeling the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. As you glanced around for your dress, you noticed Sam searching for his pants, his movements slightly disheveled but purposeful.

You both quickly dressed in a hurried but careful manner, the intimacy of the moment gradually giving way to a more practical reality. The once intense atmosphere began to shift back to its previous state, leaving behind a sense of quiet aftermath.

Sam glanced at you as he adjusted his clothes, his expression a mix of contemplation and relief. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone softening as he approached you.

You nodded, offering a small, appreciative smile. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Sam nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of concern. “Good.”

You both finished dressing and took a moment to collect yourselves, the raw intensity of the night transitioning into a more subdued, reflective mood. As you met his eyes once more, you both silently acknowledged the depth of what had transpired, understanding that this was something you both needed to get out of your systems.

Sam’s sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard. The assertive, dominating presence he had moments ago was replaced with a more detached, almost clinical air. “We’re adults,” he said, his tone steady but marked with a finality that felt almost cold. “This was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again.”

You looked at him, surprised by how abruptly he’d distanced himself from the intimacy you’d shared. Despite the sudden shift, you kept your composure, masking the inner turmoil. “Agreed. Sometimes things just… happen. Let’s move on from this.”

His gaze softened slightly, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “Right. Let’s just put it behind us and focus on what’s ahead.”

With a final, measured nod, you both moved towards the door, each of you ready to face the next chapter with a renewed sense of clarity and purpose, the unexpected turn of events leaving a quiet undercurrent of unresolved tension.

You walked up the stairs, the echoes of your footsteps filling the quiet house. Each step felt heavy, as if the night’s events had added an extra weight to your every movement. Your mind was still racing, trying to process Sam’s sudden shift and the finality of his words.

As you reached your bedroom, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room felt almost serene compared to the chaos you had just experienced. The familiar surroundings offered a sense of comfort and normalcy, but it did little to ease the confusion that lingered in your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you turned on the bedside lamp. The soft light cast a warm glow over the room, creating a stark contrast to the cold reality you felt. You glanced at the bed, its unruffled surface a reminder of the calm that was now so elusive.