#it’s a fun movie even if I teared up

[inmayshead]

"Women are too sensitive and fragile" said the same men who got angry about a Barbie movie that shows exactly what women go through by reversing the roles < 3

[faoluoo]

i watched look back

rambling in tags

[honeycreammilkshake]

i wonder if, in another world where sukuna had said yes and yuuji did take blobkuna back with him, they would watch movies together.

sukuna criticizes all of them and seems to be into only the mindless slasher or horror ones (the gorier the better) but one day yuuji puts on something more serious. sukuna complains the whole time as he sits in yuuji's cupped hands, but then the brat stops arguing with him suddenly and goes quiet during the sad part of the film.

it's not the film that moves sukuna. he didn't even bother to pay attention enough to really know what's going on. but for some reason, when yuuji starts crying, hot tears that drip right down on sukuna, the former king of curses can't look away and he doesn't realize until much later that his own eye is wet as well.

he denies it. he makes fun of yuuji for crying. maybe he even licks yuuji's tears off his wrist just to be gross and rile him up. but he can't stop thinking about how close he felt to yuuji in that one moment, almost like they were sharing bodies again, and maybe he would like to go back to living inside of yuuji. if only to make him cry instead of the movie doing it. or maybe he just likes feeling yuuji's emotions. maybe being inside of yuuji is the closest he can come to feeling those emotions for himself. because maybe it's not such a weakness after all.

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins vigilantes: getting found out pt 2

okayyyy this part's a slight bit longer but hopefully, uh, worth it lol

kinda made myself tear up a lil at the end ahahaha

also pls don't ask when this takes place, like either in between istv and atsv or atsv and btsv.... idk bro LMFAO this is technically a whole other au in and of itself soooo yuh

disclaimer: i'm a whole ass anarchist, however miles and milo are two teenage boys who've grown up with a cop dad and they play a lil lip service to the police force during their big speech so... yeah i don't support the existence of the police force, but it is what it is. characters don't reflect author's beliefs and all that

>1st part here<

Jeff happened to be lucky enough to be pardoned for the rest of the night, and he also opted to use some PTO on this very very important occasion, so he sped off in the squad car with his sons in the back immediately after visiting the police department and signing off on some papers. He did not utter a word until they all got back home safely.

In the car, it was eerily silent as Jeff fumed in the front. Miles practiced what he was going to say over and over in his head, picking at his suit and avoiding his twin brother’s eyes. Milo held what remained of his mask in his hands, gauntlets off and tucked between his feet on the floor of the car. They both hung their heads low, counting down the minutes until they got back home and had to face their inevitable death sentence.

They were in so much trouble. Yikes. This was exactly what Miles dreaded for so damn long now, and it almost felt like a dream the way it happened so quickly.

Back home, both boys were sat down in the dining room area behind the couch, waiting for their mother to come back from her night shift. Milo was given an ice pack for his head and some painkillers, and then they were both sternly ordered to take off their respective suits.

Miles turned inquisitive eyes towards his dad.

“If your mom comes in and sees you two wearing those outfits right after work, that woman will have a heart attack and faint. Take ‘em off,” was Jeff’s sharp explanation.

They were not gonna argue with that. To the bedroom they both went.

“And then you both come right back out the second you change, got it?”

“Yeah dad, got it,” was Miles’ unenthused mumble before closing the door.

Miles turned back around with his mask in his hands, and immediately threw it at Milo.

“What were you thinking?!?!” he hissed, arms flying up into the air, making grabbing motions at his twin brother’s neck. “You absolute idiot, my god, we are so. Freaking. Dead!!”

Milo ducked back, scowling. “Me?!” he hissed back, keeping his voice at a harsh whisper as well. “What did you want me to do, pendejo, just let our dad fry, just like that? I didn’t see you moving to stop the guy!”

They were both snapping at each other, hands flying everywhere as they argued in harsh tones and whispers. They only stopped when they heard a loud knock on the door.

“Don’t take all night, either,” came their father’s booming voice from behind the wood.

Miles hung his head. Milo rolled his eyes and moved towards the closet, ripping his jacket off and kicking off his shoes. “Yes dad,” they both intoned at the same time.

A few glares were exchanged as clothes were tossed onto the floor, and Miles sighed loudly as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants, throwing himself onto his bed to get them up his legs all at once. He glanced at his bedside alarm clock, knowing his mom would be home any minute now. He felt his heart beat in his chest much louder and faster than usual.

Milo pulled on a hoodie over his head, gingerly easing the fabric over his bruised chest.

“Did the blast hit your chest too, man?” Miles asked quietly, eyes playing over the mess of a bruise over slightly-scarred skin, wincing a bit.

Milo exhaled sharply. “Shuddup.”

Miles frowned. “You have to let mom know about that soon. Don’t ‘shuddup’ me.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Miles knew his brother was sulking, but that really looked… bad. If he was responsible for not only dragging his brother into vigilantism, but also putting him in the hospital as well, he had no idea how he was getting out of this one alive. He was probably never going to see the light of day until college. Maybe not even then.

Once ready, both boys stood side-by-side in front of the door, hesitating. They both glanced at each other, then back at the door.

This was it, they both thought. The moment of truth. This was the night where it was all gonna go down, and their painstakingly-kept secret would finally be revealed to their parents. D-day. My god. He didn’t even know if the speech he prepared in the car on the way home was even gonna suffice against their mother’s explosive anger. She was gonna have a cow the second Jeff told her. Damnit.

Guess I can kiss the whole Spider-man thing goodbye, Miles thought, the very idea leaving a very heavy weight in his chest that he just couldn’t ignore. He leaned forward to turn the knob and swing open the door. With one last glance back at his brother, he stepped out. Then his brother followed him slowly, ice pack pressed to the side of his head again.

It was like a funeral procession the way they marched solemnly back to their chairs placed side-by-side by the table. Jeff leaned on the doorway to the hallway with his arms crossed sternly over his chest, still in his police uniform, hat already hung up.

As if on cue, Rio’s keys jangled against the door, and she stepped inside once the lock clicked open. Her slightly tired expression changed in an instant once she hung up her bag and walked into the apartment.

“Hello boys, I’m home!” She announced, a bit surprised. Not only were her husband and two sons all home at the same time, but they were all hanging around to watch her come home after work at such a late hour. Granted, it was summertime and the weekend, but still. Weird.

Jeff had texted her that something important came up and that she needed to be home ASAP, but didn’t elaborate further. She didn’t know what to expect when she got back. She crossed her fingers and hoped that it wasn’t that bad, if her husband texted her instead of calling. If it was an emergency, surely he would’ve called.

Right?

Her eyes widened once she saw the ice pack Milo held against his head, and quickly made her way over to him.

“Qué pasó?” She kneeled next to her boy, checking him over quickly.

Milo winced and tried to dodge his mother’s hands, holding a protective arm over his chest that no one missed. “Ma, stop. I’m fine, seriously. It’s… it’s fine.”

“Is it? What is going on, why is everyone so… so sad right now, and what are you two doing sitting here like this? Jeff…?” She turned to face her husband but he was already making his way back to the boys’ bedroom, scooping up their respective vigilante costumes and heading back out with the incriminating evidence in both hands.

Once he got back to the table, he tossed them onto the surface and crossed his arms again.

For a second, no one moved. The whole world held its breath for one precious moment.

Then, with deadly calm in her tone, Rio slowly stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “...What are those things?”

Both boys braced for impact.

“Well?”

Miles swallowed hard, hands gripped together tightly. “Uhm. They’re. They’re… our outfits. Y’know… for fighting crime.”

Rio gaped at her sons.

“He’s Spider-man, mom. Miles is Spider-man,” Milo clarified solemnly. His chin was at his chest now, avoiding eye contact with his mother.

“...And you’re the Prowler.” Rio finished.

She took a step back and exhaled, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her face. “Oh… oh my god. Dios mió, me voy a morir. I knew it, but still... me voy a morir!” ¹

Finally, Jeff spoke up behind her. “They’re not Halloween costumes, either. Guess where I found ‘em tonight?”

With tears in her eyes, Rio looked back at her husband, a pleading look on her face. “Don’t tell me,” she begged. But Jeff continued anyways.

“I took tonight’s shift on as a bit of extra, and when I was called to take care of an electric freak close to downtown, I found these two at the scene already.”

Finally, Rio exploded. “What?!?”

The twins flinched.

Jeff exhaled and pressed on, licking his lips. “Yeah, and not only that, but Milo here took on a direct blast of electricity to the face. He jumped in front of me and put himself in harm’s way!”

Scandalized, Milo leaped up from his seat, wincing only a little bit. “Wait a minute, I did it to protect you! That’s my job!”

The anger fizzled out immediately once both parents swung their withering glares around back to him, rage hot enough to almost burn two holes into his skull. Miles pulled Milo’s hoodie sleeve and quietly hissed, “stop making it worse!”

Milo clammed up and quickly sat back down, pouting.

“Your job?” Rio shot back incredulously, laughing angrily.

“That is not your job, Milo! That is mine! My job! I wear this badge every single day so that I can protect the people of Brooklyn. You are a kid with homework and chores to do, not fighting dangerous bad guys on the streets like some kinda—” Jeff worked himself up but then stopped, as if he suddenly ran out of steam. He placed his hands over his head, clearly stressed, and exhaled loudly.

“How long?” Rio’s tone was sharp.

They were definitely not getting out of this alive. Damn. Rest in power, Morales twins.

Miles shuffled his feet, hesitating. “Uhm—”

“Speak up, Miles. How long have you two been running around behind our backs and lying to us like this? Huh?”

Miles sighed. “I, uhm. We’ve been doing this… for a while now.”

“A while?”

“…A -a year.”

“A YEAR?!”

“I mean I’unno about Miles, but I’ve only been doin’ this for like a couple months, so…” Milo mumbled half-heartedly beside his brother. That comment earned him another set of glares, including one from Miles.

“A year. A year! A year, that’s how long you’ve been lying to us?” Jeff was pacing now, clearly stressed out. He was mumbling things under his breath that both boys would rather not know anything about.

Miles jumped up from his seat, seizing the opportunity when he could. “Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait, guys. Mom, dad. Listen to me, please,” he begged, hands splayed out in front of him.

He took a breath. He opened his mouth.

“Until college.” Rio interrupted, holding a finger up. “Both of you. Grounded! Until college! You will both be adults before you ever go out without my permission ever again!”

Miles deflated. “O-kay but mom, please! Hear me out first!”

Rio held a hand up. “I don’t wanna hear it! I cannot believe that both of my sons would lie to me like this! For an entire year, no less! Dios, dame paciencia, coño!” ² She shook her head as she held her face in her hands. “Do you two know what you’re doing to me? Look at me, I’m getting grey hairs as we speak!”

Jeff immediately took her side. “Do you realize what you’re doing to your mother? You’re killing her! And you--” he rounded on Milo all of a sudden, jolting the poor boy into sitting up straight. “You are killing me! You’re going around wearing those godforsaken gloves around, punching bad guys just cuz you wanna feel like a big man, huh? Do you know what that does to me?!”

Milo visibly prickled up, hunching in on himself. “I’m not doing it for me,” he bit out angrily.

“Then for who, huh?”

“I wanted to save the little guys on the street... when the cops couldn’t. I wanted to help Miles.” Milo sounded tired, and for a split second he looked much older beyond his years. Both of his parents softened for only a fraction of a second before Jeff rubbed his eyes and turned back to Miles.

"And who made you Spider-man all of a sudden? What happened a year ago? Tell me the truth. I don't want any detail left out!"

Ah, interrogation mode already, Miles thought humorlessly.

He sighed and dutifully got started on the whole backstory, careful to leave out the fact that he was with Aaron the moment he got shot, skipping to the part where he "found" his uncle's nearly lifeless body in that alleyway that fateful day. It was a harmless enough lie… Miles presumed. Right?

"Did you… then... h-how did you see who shot Aaron, Miles? Were you there?" Jeff asked quietly, also looking as tired as Milo did. Miles paused, not expecting the question.

Rio shot him a look. "Jeff, mi amor, please. Now is really not the time." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Right now, we have to talk about this... this... situation we have going on here. What's next?"

Miles shrugged, palms facing forward as if to say and the rest is history. "I'm... pretty sure you guys know the rest. Dad... you were uh, there. At the collider. I stopped Kingpin and then I just. Well, yeah. Y'all have already watched all of the news stories and the videos. So," he finished lamely.

Then, a surge of confidence as he looked at the concerned expressions dawning on his parents' faces. It's now or never.

"...B-but I love being Spider-man! Dad, you've seen me out there, the way I fight, the fact that you guys have less to deal with cuz I'm out there kicking ass!"

Oops. Wrong words.

Miles' confidence deflated as soon as those concerned and sympathetic looks turned into ones of anger.

"Kicking ass?! More like getting your ass kicked, little boy! How many NewTube videos are out there of you getting crushed by cars," Jeff started to count off of his fingers, "hit by buses, tossed in the air, punched and flung halfway across the block--"

"Jeff, please!" Rio cried, wobbling a bit. She pulled out the chair closest to her from the table and slumped down into it, rubbing at her temples.

"S-sorry, hon..." Jeff placed an apologetic hand on his wife's shoulder.

Rio sighed deeply.

"I get it. I know. But dad..." Miles steeled himself this time. "When you put on that badge every single day and you go out into those streets to protect the city, you think you're never gonna get shot at? Jumped? It is literally your responsibility to put yourself in the way of danger so no one else has to." He turns to the table and grabs his mask.

"For me," Miles continues, "this is my badge. Okay? I put this on every single day and swing out into the streets so people can shoot at me, or ask me for directions, or wait for me to get weird guys in stupid costumes away from the train tracks. I do this every single day, because if I don't, who will? Peter is dead--" ...wow, that feels weird to say.

"Miles..." Rio's big brown eyes gaze sadly at her boy, standing tall with this awful mask in his hand. A mask that she desperately wished wasn't his.

"Mom. Peter is dead. He is. Okay? If I don't step up and take his place, knowing what I can do? Then I might as well not even be alive at all." He tosses his mask dramatically back onto the table to punctuate his point. "I can shoot webs from my wrists and I have strength like y'all wouldn't believe. I can stick to walls and do everything that Peter Parker was able to do before he passed away. If I just sit here doing nothing with these abilities while everyone struggles to live their lives every single day, letting bad guys with superpowers do whatever they want, then what's the point of anything? The exact same reason why I put on this suit to go fight crime is the exact same reason why you do, dad." Miles turns to his father now. "You have your suit, I have mine."

Milo jumps in, enthused. "And the reason why I put on my mask is because of him. And the civilians, too... of course. But it's not because I 'wanna feel like a big man', dad. It's because it drives me crazy seeing my own brother taking on all of this responsibility on his shoulders all by himself. Miles is gonna do crazy things now that he got bit by a super-spider, right? We literally cannot stop him, even if we tried. Trust me. Might as well go along with him and support him so he doesn't get himself killed out there. That's why I do this. Every single day."

Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but is then cut off by Rio's own small, sad voice. "... Why does it have to be you two?" She asks quietly.

She looks so small sitting there on their wooden dining room chair, and a million times more tired than when she came in through the door. She wasn't even out of her own nurse's uniform yet, either. Miles felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Miles... did not know the answer to her question either. He really didn't. Why was it him-- out of all of the people in Brooklyn-- that got bit by that spider? Clearly, the universe had a grand, elaborate joke planned for him. That was really probably the only explanation for it all. But, no. No, there had to be something else in the cards for Miles. After all, he was bitten by the spider while out with his uncle who was secretly the Prowler, and he was present for not only Peter Parker's death, but that same uncle as well.

He squared his shoulders. And then told the truth.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "But... I do know this. Growing up, I always knew Spider-man was there to answer the call no matter what. He didn't pick this life of battling bad guys that wanna tear the city up all the time, a spider bit him, too. But he made me promise something before he died, and I have to live up to that promise. What else am I gonna do when I'm able to pick up cars with my bare hands?"

Granted, it was only a promise to stop the collider from opening a black hole inside of the city they lived in, but. Details. Anyways...

Rio hid her face in her hands again.

Miles softened his tone, sitting down. "This is something I worked really, really hard for and it's important to me. Milo... is kinda right. You can ground me. Until college. Or whenever. But as long as I've got these powers," he held his hands open, propping his elbows on his knees and meeting his mom's eyes, "and there's people out there that need saving? I gotta do what I gotta do, mami."

Milo leaned forward, too. "Yeah. Same here. He's not alone. The same reason we do this stuff is cuz... ever since we were little, we also watched you guys answer the call, no matter what. I never met Spider-man, before... y'know, but it doesn't matter. We do this for New York City."

Neither of their parents spoke for a bit, digesting all of this information in solemn silence. The anger from earlier all but melted away as they ruminated over all of this. All this time, their little boy was running around in a spandex costume, swinging around, punching bad guys and lifting fallen buildings off of people. There was... a hint of pride underneath all of the fear and anger and betrayal and anxiety, even Rio couldn't lie.

But god, how would things ever be the same again after knowing that the very hero who swung from building to building and knocked villains down before webbing them up was the very same boy with the brightest brown eyes they've ever seen; the boy who brought home A's on his test like he won a medal, the same boy who sang horribly off-key while doodling all over his sketchbook, who refused to tie his shoelaces and drove Jeff up the wall when he found graffiti and stickers all around the city in Miles' name? It was impossible... Rio's heart broke into two pieces.

And Milo... a tougher counterpart to her little ray of sunshine, but just as sweet. The same boy who would feed stray cats on the block, beam like a ray of light after winning a boxing match against a tough opponent, who would hide behind Rio at parties and join her happily to watch the latest episode of the new telenovela they both got hooked on... that same boy was wearing those gloves, swinging around the city looking like a bad guy himself. Rio's shattered heart gained another huge crack before finally breaking into three pieces.

Finally, she sighed again.

"You have superpowers?" She asked, hesitantly.

"... I... yeah, I do." Miles answered, fearing that this was a trick question.

Rio nodded sadly. "Of course. Of course..."

Jeff spoke up, now kneeling beside his wife, caressing her hand clasped in between both of his. "Just because you have superpowers, doesn't mean you're invincible. Miles, we do this because we care about you. Maybe we won't be able to stop either of you from putting yourself in harm's way... I mean, hell, nobody can stop me. But... god, isn't there any other way?"

Miles raised a brow. "Any other way to...?"

Jeff blew out a breath. "I-I dunno, can't you use your super strength to... well, maybe help the transportation department move some tracks around, build some new stations... that'd help the city. Swing around and deliver medicine to people for free? God, I don't know. I just don't want either of you to jump in front of bullets for other people... man..." he shook his head.

Miles and Milo exchanged glances. "I... I know it's tough to accept this," Miles started, unsure of what to say. "Maybe I can scale back the dangerous stuff some but... I... can't just stand around directing traffic when someone's getting mugged. Or a bank is getting robbed. Dad, I just can't. Maybe you guys will hate it every time I put the suit on and swing outside but... I can't give this up now. I'm sorry." He dipped his head apologetically.

Another long stretch of silence.

A clock ticks on the wall in the kitchen, and the ice maker in the fridge starts humming again. It's all so painfully domestic, painfully ordinary, it's almost an insult to the people living in this apartment facing these serious revelations all at the same time. It sure is a sharp contrast to the solemn mood settling all over everyone right now.

Rio looks deeply into Miles' eyes, then Milo's. After a while, she turns to face Jeff. "Jeff. You will not like what I'm about to say."

Jeff returns her look with one of confusion. "Honey..."

Rio shrugs, a small gesture but one that makes Miles and Milo's hearts skip a beat. "Mi vida, these are our boys. They have... this big responsibility now, to the people here in this city. Just like you. Just like me," she swallows and continues. "You and me? We've seen what Miles is capable of. Well, the both of them. And as much as it hurts, it would probably hurt even more if we kept them both back from being the heroes they need to be. What we need to do now is... we need to support them. We love them. They need us. We need them! Qué más puedo decir?" ³

Jeff looked deeply into his wife's eyes and then inhaled deeply. Not quite a sigh. That was maybe a good sign?

He stands up.

"...Boys."

The twins took their cue. They both stood up, too. Milo quickly discards his ice pack on his chair. Rio joins them, leaning on Jeff for support.

"When police officers get sworn in, they usually just have to do paperwork nowadays. Not too much of the whole bells and whistles due to high turnover rates, but tonight... if either of you want to continue to fight crime in this city, you both have to put your right hand up. Right now."

Miles could cry. Milo bit his lip to try and hide his grin, and they both dutifully raised their right hands at the same time. Jeff does the same, and reaches his left hand out to take Miles'. Rio takes Milo's.

"Pretend we are the Bible. Not paperwork. The Bible."

Both boys nod with all the seriousness they could manage, looking their father in the eyes.

"Do you solemnly swear on your mother and father's life that you will uphold the law and do right by the citizens of Brooklyn, New York, so help you God?"

"I mean... the law law? Cuz sometimes we--" Milo started, immediately earning an elbow to the side. He shut up.

"Yes, the law. I will not be having the DA of New York City up in my home lookin' for you two in case anyone gets badly hurt. I don't want him in my office, either." Jeff gives them both a look.

Miles pipes up. "Yes, we swear, so help us God."

"Milo?"

Milo nods emphatically. "Yes, I swear, so help me God."

Jeff nods once.

"Mijos. You will both be allowed to go and fight crime outside, con mi bendiciones. But. But... you will both also do it under two conditions. If either of you break my rules, you will have wished that spider never bit you," Rio glared at Miles. Then to Milo, "and you will have wished you never stole your uncle's gloves from his apartment. Got it?"

Both boys nodded, still holding onto their parents' hands.

"So, my two rules are this. Only two. Easy to remember, okay? Number one. Milo, you will take care of your brother as best as you can. Miles, you will take care of Milo as best as you can. Both of you will always be seen together when going out and doing hero things, do you understand?"

"Yes, mamí" the boys say simultaneously.

"Never, ever go out alone, ever. Neither of you will be alone for even a second, especially during the nighttime. Promise me this."

Miles puts his right hand down to take his mother's other hand in his. "Yes, mom. I promise. We both promise."

Rio bows her head. "...And as for my second rule."

"Do we have to have a curfew?" Milo asks quietly. Everyone shoots him a look again.

"No, no curfew." Before the boys could get excited, she quickly adds, "except for on school nights." They both calm back down.

"Your education is always, always more important. Don't forget this," she lets go of their hands to hold up a finger. "But as for my second rule? No more secrets between us. All of us. Okay? You tell me exactly when it is you leave to go and do what you need to do, and exactly when you come back. Promise me this, too."

This time, it was Miles' turn to start saying something dumb. "I meaann, like every single time? Cuz sometimes it's not really a one-and-done kinda thing, like a shift or--"

Everyone glares at Miles. Miles promptly shuts up.

"...Sí, mamí. Te prometemos todo eso." ⁴ Milo answers seriously.

Rio sucks in a breath. "Okay. Okay..."

She looks as if she's about to burst into tears, so everyone draws in tightly for a group hug. Rio sniffles against Milo's shoulder and Jeff leans his chin on Mile's head. Miles laughs wetly.

"Geez, y'all are crying? Man, for what? Ain't nobody dying or anything..." Milo interjects suddenly, causing the whole mood to dissipate all at once. Everyone laughs incredulously.

"Boy, if you don't know how to read a room..." Jeff starts, a warning tone laced into his playful grin.

"Man, I was just trying to lighten the mood! Damn, I mean shouldn't we be celebrating? Miles literally has super strength, you guys. Like c'mon, right? That is literally the coolest thing in the whole world!"

Rio groans, tossing her head back. "Mira esté, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... déjame agarrarte, maldito cabron..." ⁵ she mutters sarcastically, moving to grab at Milo's neck in the exact same way Miles did not even an hour earlier. He playfully dodged out of the way, putting his arms up to block, out of habit.

"Cabron?! Mom, you're so mean!" Milo complained.

"C'mere!"

Jeff leans in and interrupts their banter. "Milo. Son. You have to sit with me on the couch now, cuz we have to have a little chat about how you got your hands on those gloves, actually..." He grabs at one of Milo's arms, his smile just a tad bit too wide. Milo gulps.

Jeff continues, steering them both away from Miles and Rio. "And we also have to talk a bit about the history behind those things, too..."

Rio turns to Miles and cups his cheeks in her hands, looking into his eyes. "Do you actually, actually swear to me that you will try your hardest to stay safe?"

"Yes, mom, I do! We said it like a hundred times."

"Your father was right. Just because you have super strength now--"

"And super-healing."

Rio stares at him for a beat.

Miles squirms nervously. "...What? I do!"

"Super-healing, sure. Uh huh. If I catch you with bullet holes inside of you, I am not taking you to the ER then, Mr. Invincible."

"Ouch. Harsh."

"I warned you! I'm smiling like I'm joking but I'm really not!"

"Okay, okay, geez. C'mon, ma. It's really not that big of a deal. I don't get shot at as much as you'd think! Seriously! I'm fast. And... and I've been doing this for a while now. You have to trust me, okay?"

Rio sobered up. "I know. I know. I just... mi amor, I am your mother. I worry about you. You know... I've been taking care of my two little boys for so many years now. I just... I care about the both of you even when you two drive me completamente loca! I trust that you can both handle yourselves, I really do. It's just hard. It is. I-it'll... take some time to get used to."

Miles nodded. "Growing up is tough. I get it."

Rio smacked him on the shoulder.

"Ow! What, it's true! We're all growing up right now, I'm not a little kid anymore and... and you're not the mom of two little kids now. It's just... it's a transitional period! Life's tough!" Miles shrugs, smiling warmly.

Rio smirked, crossing her arms. "Uh huh. It sure is."

Then, she opened her arms for another hug from Miles, which he happily returned.

"I mean it, Miles. Whatever happens, I want you to keep yourselves safe. And ask for help. Papí, your father is a police officer. And whatever you need, whatever you need... I'm here, too."

Miles beamed at his mother with tears in his eyes.

"I know, mom. Thank you."

☆ translations:

¹ "my god, i'm going to die."

² "god, grant me patience, fuck!"

³ "what more can i say?"

⁴ "yes, mom. we promise you all of that."

⁵ "Lookit this guy, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... lemme get my hands on you, fucking bastard..."

[thingscanalwaysgetworse]

Do you think Michael Giacchino knows how many hearts he shattered with this one

[kyatra]

the entire barbie movie i was like ok this is great but i’m not really seeing how people cried over any of this and then the last ten minutes i was literally shoulders shaking hand over my mouth tears actively streaming crying. in public

[starberry-skies]

man i wish the community movie was going to be in theaters :/ i don't think anything replicates the feeling of "the thing i like has a movie, and i'm going to watch it surrounded by the people who also like that thing". i can't really explain it as well as i'd like.... but still. glad there's something rather than nothing at all.

[astrxealis]

man i’m kinda exhausted tbh. maybe. maybe. i sleep

also fun fact i think it is hilarious that. w/o context. i will say i screamed this birthday more than any other bday b4

[splendiferous-bitch]

man me n kamala would totally be besties 🤞🏼

[crunchycrystals]

feeling SUPER bad rn but i cant cry for some reason

[nanzyn]

yeah ill be that person. cars 3 hits. actually all the cars movies are good. why they got the hate they did i dont understand. watch cruz ramirez pull the same move doc did almost sixty years ago to win the race and maybe you'll feel something.

[bpmiranda]

drunk calling dbf logan while you’re out with friends and all of a sudden he shows up to take you home but you’re like absolutely NOT!! your dad would never approve of you getting on ANY motorcycle and he’s like “im your daddy rn” and he picks you up and tosses you on his bike 😭

Truth Or Dare (Logan Howlett)

A/N: 18+ f!reader, underage drinking, dom!logan, daddy!logan, small amount of suggestive smut towards end

It wasn’t your intention to call him tonight, but a game of truth or dare had ensued amongst you and your friends, and at that point it was simply unavoidable. There were rules to the game, what could be done?

“Y/N? You okay?” His gruff voice came over the phone speaker and your friends giggled, squealing about how attractive he sounded and you shushed them. “Y/N?”

“Hi, Logan,” You slur, biting your lip as you imagine that you probably just woke him up and he’s shirtless in bed. Gosh, he looks so good shirtless, you think. “I have - have a - um - a question, yes.”

Logan sighs over the phone and you can’t help bursting out into giggles. “Y/N, please tell me you’re not fucking drinking at this goddamn hour.” Your friends ‘ooo’ obnoxiously, giggling as they continue passing around the bottle of blackberry rum. “Where are you?”

“Wait, what about my question?” You pout, lying back on the couch you’re sitting on and grinning. “Listen, I was truthed or dared, right? And I - so I said truth because that’s, like, the smartest choice, and they tricked me!”

On the other line, Logan is trying really hard not to laugh at how drunk you are because you’re not even 21 yet and because if your father found out you called him and he didn’t pick you up immediately, his own ass would be on the line. “Baby, where are you?” Logan asks firmly and you basically purr over the phone.

“I like when you call me that.” You slur, twirling a strand of your hair on your finger and getting it tangled. “Why don’t you call me baby all the time?” You ask as you shake your hand out to release your finger from your hair.

“You know why,” Logan says in a low voice, wondering how much of this conversation you will remember in the morning. “Tell me where you are so I can come pick you up.”

“No, I’m having fun, Logan. Come get me in the morning and we can get pancakes!” You say decidedly before you hung up.

The night carries on with drinking and talking about Logan and other guys you and your friends think are attractive. Someone passes around a bowl of popcorn while you’re attempting to set up a movie and then you hear it. The familiar low rumbling of a motorcycle and you know exactly who is outside right now. “Fuck, he found me.” You gasp and your friends’ eyes go wide.

“Who?”

“A killer?”

“Oh, my god!” One cries.

You laugh and toss some popcorn at her. “No, dummy, my dad’s friend!” You hurriedly stumble to the light switch and turn everything off. You signal them to be quiet as you place a finger over your lips and they do the same. You can hear the heavy steps of his boots and you lean against the door as if you could barricade it. There’s a sudden loud pounding on it, and your friends scream and gasp. You roll your eyes because you realize you can’t keep a bunch of drunk girls quiet. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go!” He yells and you stifle a giggle. “I will knock this door down, come on!”

“He sounds angry.”

“You should go.”

“My parents will definitely find out we were drinking if the door is knocked down when they get back.”

With no choice left, you open the door and pout up at Logan who appears angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “Logan, I would love to go with you, but my daddy would never approve of me getting on a motorcycle.” You say only for him to grab you by the arm and drag you down the walkway to his bike. “Um, ow!”

“I’m your daddy now,” He snaps at you and your eyes well up with tears. “Get on the damn bike.” He orders and you do as he says. “Hold onto the handles.” He instructs as he sits behind you because he doesn’t trust you not to fall off in the state that you’re in.

The drive isn’t far from your friends to his house and when you are parked in his garage you start to cry softly. Logan sighs, still sitting behind you, and he gently rubs your back. “Are you - sniff - mad at me?” You ask, wiping your eyes as your head hangs sadly.

“No, baby, I’m not mad,” He says, looking at your small frame sitting in front of him as he lets the hand on your back move down to your hip. “I was just worried. Your dad’s going to be mad.” He adds with a small chuckle and you cry.

God, it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, but he can’t help picturing you crying and sniffling like that while he’s got his cock inside you. “Logan, he’s not going to let me go to grad week with my friends if he finds out.” You sniffle, looking up and remembering you’re in his garage. “Can I sleep it off here and then you can take me back home in the morning?”

Logan’s hands are smoothing over your hips slowly, wondering if you feel him touching you or if you’re too drunk to notice. “I’m supposed to take you now. I just wanted you to eat something before we went over there cause he’s going to ground you immediately.” Logan said, his hands now softly rubbing on your thighs and you can feel his hard shaft against your ass.

“Please don’t tell.” You murmur, sitting up a little straighter so your back is pressed to his chest. Logan tenses up at your action and you look at him over your shoulder. “Please, Logan?”

Logan hums, pretending to think it over although it was never his intention to tell your dad. “How about this,” He begins, his hands sliding over the tops of your thighs as he dips his head and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I keep your secret,” His lips move onto your neck and you tilt your head to the side to give him more access. “If you keep ours.” His fingers are spreading your legs a little wider, digging into your soft thighs, and you tremble in his hold as his teeth graze your jaw. “Think you can do that for me, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” You breathed out shakily as he slips a hand into your leggings, holding you against him by pressing his other hand into your belly.

“Good girl.”

I was not sure if you wanted full smut so I sprinkle some in at the end! Let me know what you thought:)

[xiaowhore]

intoxicating.

premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.

somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.

Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.

He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.

Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.

Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.

However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.

At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.

Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.

“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”

So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.

“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”

Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”

You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”

Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”

You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”

“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.

For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”

He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”

“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”

“...No?”

“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”

“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”

“Is it working?”

Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.

“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.

“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”

When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.

“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-

Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.

“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.

“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.

The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”

You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.

“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”

“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”

“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”

Just what on earth did you do last night...?

???

[githvyrik]

friends and I dressed up for dnd movie last night and like 3 people in public filmed/took pictures of us :/

[awearywritersworld]

my very soul demands you

sukuna x reader summary: you introduce sukuna to cuddling and romance novels. meanwhile, he's still struggling to make sense of his feelings for you, despite wanting to commit murder because another man had the nerve to touch your arm (which earns him a lecture from yuuji). w/c: 2.5k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. jealous!sukuna. aged up!yuuji. features yuuji x reader. cursing. banter. hopefully not too ooc for sukuna. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it'd flow much better with the context of the previous two parts. lots of denial and begrudging softness from sukuna here. definitely more fluff than anything tho. this series has been fun to write, so thanks for reading<3 i appreciate reblogs or feedback! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any additional parts. series masterlist // masterlist

when you crawl in between sukuna's legs and curl up against his chest, it's a foreign experience that makes his body stiffen.

he'd been with countless women during his lifetime, but while fucking is one thing, he never once found himself in a position that struck him as this... intimate.

"hold me," you whine as if you can sense his unfamiliarity with such matters.

he rolls his eyes, beginning to wonder if your habit of throwing orders at him is actually some sort of compulsive need. "didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"

despite his irritation, he acquiesces to your demand and once he envelops you in his arms, some of his rigidness dissipates.

you hum contentedly. "isn't that better?"

"it's tolerable," he asserts, his chest vibrating against your cheek.

"whatever you say." tangling your legs with his, you turn your attention back to the movie you've both been watching.

he doesn't understand this... tedious display of affection, nor does he particularly enjoy it... right?

and he only allows it because he can't rid his mind of the image of your tear stained face... right?

yeah, that has to be it. he figures he can endure this, given that he was the reason you were so upset earlier.

it goes without saying that he doesn't realize it when he begins to rub absentminded circles on your back.

and the way the warmth of your body forces his usually tense muscles to relax goes unacknowledged.

when the credits begin to roll, sukuna's wearing an expression of unimpressed disinterest. "that's seriously how it ends?"

you don't respond, so he looks down only to find that you're fast asleep.

"tch. you ask to watch a movie, force me to pick it, and then you don't even have the decency to stay awake." he's not sure why he's chiding you even though he knows you can't hear him, but he keeps his voice low enough that it won't disturb you.

sukuna's spent more time than he cares to admit watching your sleeping form, but this is the first time that it's actually him you're pressed against. it's the first time he can reach out and touch you.

your hair has fallen across your face, so he pushes it back behind your ear gently. the pads of his fingers brush against your cheekbone, a ghost of a caress, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips.

he lets out a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from you. "impertinent brat."

reaching for the remote, he flips off the tv and casts the room in darkness.

upon waking up in the morning, yuuji's confused once he notices that he's on the couch and you're sleeping against his chest.

he may have been half asleep when he arrived home, but he's still positive he went to bed. stretching his arms above his head, the movement jostles you from your slumber.

"mornin', baby."

"good morning, yu," you yawn in response, shifting to sit up.

"how'd i wind up on the couch?" he asks, though he's already got an inkling of the answer.

"oh," you blush. "sukuna kind of made an appearance last night."

"that so? how'd it go?"

you think there might be a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. is he teasing you?

"good," you offer. "we watched a movie."

"watched a movie with the king of curses," he muses before his face breaks out into a lopsided grin. "you sure are somethin', baby."

returning his smile, you lean in and press your lips to his. "hm. says you."

it's not uncommon for you to meet yuuji for lunch if his mission is short and nearby, and today is one of those days, so he eagerly makes his way to the cafe you agreed on.

he's still a few hundred feet away when he spots you through the window, chatting with a man he recognizes as your childhood friend.

his gaze drops to where his hand is wrapped around your forearm as you both share a laugh together.

it doesn't really bother yuuji, he trusts you implicitly and jealousy isn't an emotion that's really on his radar. the same can't be said for everyone, though.

sukuna watches on as well, his thoughts much darker than his vessel's. who does that wretch think he is, putting his hands on you?

you're not his to touch.

"give me control," sukuna growls, his mouth appearing on yuuji's cheek.

"and why would i do that?"

"so i can rip his heart out and gift it to her since he seems so interested in offering his affections."

"duuuude," yuuji begins, somewhat amused. "i don't think she'd be super crazy about you murdering her friend."

"fine," sukuna bites back, well aware that yuuji has a point. "but he can live without his filthy hands, can't he? perhaps i'll pull each arm from his torso—"

yuuji snorts. "you have some serious issues, man."

he can feel sukuna trying to take over and easily curbs the attempt, though that only fuels the king of curses' irritation. "my only issue lies in the fact you're allowing this to happen."

yuuji reaches the door, a bell chiming through the cafe as he pulls it open. "she's a big girl. she doesn't need either of us to dictate what can and can't happen to her."

once you see your boyfriend, your face lights up and you call out his name. you place a kiss on his cheek and snake an arm around his waist in greeting, and the space it puts between you and your friend is enough to keep sukuna from protesting further.

"you two have met, right?" you ask.

"yeah! hey, itadori! it's been a while."

"it has! good to see you, yamada."

"i'd love to stay and chat more, but i have to get going," he states, leaning in to give you a hug which you return. "we should all go out together soon!"

"absolutely not, you deplorable knave—" yuuji slaps a hand to his cheek before sukuna can continue and yamada gives him an odd look.

your eyes widen for a split second and you have to stop yourself from facepalming.

"what'd you say?" yamada asks, sounding a bit hesitant.

"i said absolutely, sounds like an enjoyable night!"

the men exchange a handshake before you and yuuji make your way to a table.

"sukuna, what the hell was that?" you hiss once yamada's out of earshot.

"i don't know what you mean," he responds smugly.

you meet yuuji's eye and he just shrugs his shoulders, but you swear the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

you can't imagine anything good coming from the two of them colluding with one another, but let it go anyway.

opening up your menu, you sigh in defeat. "if you say so."

"what do you mean you'd rather disembowel yourself?" you question the man sitting across from you.

it's becoming more commonplace to see those dark marks adorning yuuji's body during the nighttime hours. you sometimes wonder if he's letting it happen or if sukuna's just getting better at taking over, but you're too nervous to ask.

"do you need a dictionary? there's one over on the shelf—"

"no, asshole. i know what disembowel means! i just don't understand your refusal."

he raises his eyebrows at the obscenity, but doesn't comment on it. "i'm not reading some inane romance novel."

"but brontë's one of my favorite authors!"

"it makes no difference if it was penned by the gods. the thought alone is absurd. can we move on now?"

you don't respond. instead, you cross your arms and stare at the wall defiantly. your face is contorted into an expression that lets sukuna know you're clearly affronted.

"very mature, you silly little girl."

"sorry you find me and my interests so childish," you huff.

"oh, please. that's not what i said."

you continue giving him the cold shoulder, having no desire to argue further, but more than willing to die on this hill.

"fine, don't talk. it's no matter to me," he claims (despite it being the furthest thing from the truth).

as the minutes tick by, he keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye and exhaling dramatically.

eventually, he calls your name in an exasperated tone, and while it makes your heart flutter, you still don't spare him a glance. you just hold the book out for him and to your surprise, he rips it from your grasp.

"you're ridiculous," he grumbles, opening the cover to reveal the first page. "i hate you."

when he glances over to see you're beaming at him despite the insult, he adds (albeit half heartedly), "i mean it, brat."

the two of you sit in silence, each of you reading your respective books. a few chapters in, sukuna comes across the following conversation:

"do you know where the wicked go after death?" "they go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer. "and what is hell? can you tell me that?" "a pit full of fire." "and should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?" "no, sir." "what must you do to avoid it?" i deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "i must keep in good health, and not die."

to your astonishment, you actually hear him chuckle, but when he looks over and finds your self satisfied smirk, any hint of humor disappears from his face in the blink of an eye. your hand quickly moves to your mouth to stifle a giggle.

"something you want to say?" he baits you.

"nope, nothing at all!"

two nights later, he's already nearing the end of the story and you refrain from commenting about how quickly he's made his way through.

you doubt he'd allow your current position if you had— you're laying on your side, your head resting comfortably in his lap, one hand occupying the space above his knee.

when you asked if it was okay, all he offered you was a clipped, "i suppose."

your hair is splayed across his thigh and your eyes fluttered shut a while ago. when he agreed to this, he didn't realize how distracting it'd be. his gaze flickers between you and the words on the page with embarrassing frequency.

he's decided what you call cuddling is absolutely suffocating. how anyone could actually enjoy it, he's sure he'll never comprehend. he can hardly concentrate on the novel that's right in front of him—

"read to me, 'kuna," you mumble, interrupting his thoughts. it surprises him that you're still awake.

he scoffs. "what do i look like? your personal audiobook?"

"you didn't even know those existed until like a week ago," you laugh. "c'mon, pleaaaaaase."

he stays quiet for a few moments, so you're under the impression he may just ignore your request. as such, you're exceptionally pleased when his voice fills the otherwise still apartment.

you think the sound of his voice is comforting, an idea that would more than likely make him cringe, so you keep it to yourself. after all, you don't want him to stop.

at some point or another, he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger whenever he's not turning the page, an action that seems to take place without his noticing.

occasionally he'll pause to ask if you're even listening. it's an odd feeling that blossoms in his stomach when you assure, "mhmm. every word."

as he reaches the second to last chapter, he reads a line that makes you question whether your heart's stopped beating. you're not sure if it's because of the tone of his voice, the words he's imparting, or some mix thereof.

"no—no—jane; you must not go. no—i have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence—the sweetness of your consolation: i cannot give up these joys. i have little left in myself—I must have you. the world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify."

he stops reading, as if he too feels the sense of unease that's invaded the air. against your better judgement, you turn to look at him. his eyes are glued to the page, almost like they're avoiding you, and his jaw is tense.

"my very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

when his gaze finally lands on you, his expression is almost pained. it's a strange contrast to the warm fondness you spot in his eyes.

you quickly push that thought away, however. whatever you believe you may have seen, you're probably just deluding yourself. you know you aren't his least favorite person, but surely he'd never feel even half of that sentiment toward you—

your breath catches in your throat when his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he still marvels at the fact you don't shy away from his touch, that you're usually the one to seek out contact with him.

perhaps the story is not as asinine as he expected it to be. rochester presumes jane will find him revolting, yet she still agrees to be with him, even after his selfishness has been made plain to her. after the sins of his past have caught up to him.

no, no, no.

to be so desperate for some woman's approval, or her devotion for that matter, is despicable. rochester's nothing less than foolish and sukuna isn't anything like him.

but you're certainly like jane, aren't you? fearless, passionate, and determined: all things he can't help but find endearing...

gods, what is this turmoil? it's making him feel pathetic and there isn't an emotion in the world he hates more—

you distract him from his internal monologue when your fingers wrap around his wrist and bring his knuckles to your lips. "you okay?"

"of course," he mutters, pulling his hand away. "just trying to get past all the mawkishness."

"really? you think it's that bad?" you question, the frown on your lips igniting that ache in his chest that appears whenever you're upset.

"it's not terrible," he sighs, realizing there may indeed be one thing he despises even more than feeling pathetic. "although i don't understand how jane is so taken with rochester."

you seem to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "love is weird."

"what a clever analysis."

you slap his chest playfully. "oh, whatever. just keep going, you're almost finished!"

and you're right. he does reach the end of jane eyre that night, but not before you fall asleep on his lap. he closes the book, running a finger down the creased spine and setting it down carefully. it's obvious you've read it several times.

admittedly, he can see why, but he'd be caught dead before he'd ever tell you as much.

left alone with his thoughts, he considers the impossibility of jane and rochester: a charming, headstrong woman and a cruel, arrogant man.

leaning forward, he whispers your name to make certain you're asleep, then places a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"..sweet dreams."

[yanderestarangel]

✧ HEADCANONS FNAF | SMUT VERSION | MIKE SCHMIDT

★ TW: afab anatomy, pet names, degradation, dom!mike, v!sex, rough sex, blowjob, overstimulation, little praise.

˚｡⋆.☆Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post, comments and reblogs are welcome♡

★ A/N: some people asked me in inbox if I watched the fnaf movie and the answer is: yes! I watched it with my boyfriend and it was a lot of fun, so I decided to write something about Mike yey >ㅅ<

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike is a stressed man, with all the pressure of taking care of his sister, the nightmares and a bad job - which can consume a lot of his energy - he will just want to be in your arms at the end of the day and preferably, between your legs.

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will arrive home tired, with a smell like men's cologne faint from the hours he spent at work, and a thin layer of sweat covering his face and back, while he desperately looked for you in every corner of the house, shouting your name. Schmidt won't even give you time to ration, as he lifts you onto the nearest firm surface and spreads your thighs - if you were wearing any shorts, he would desperately tear them off while he glues his face to your pussy, lubricating it with saliva and making circular movements with his tongue on your clit, enjoying every moan you made, every time you ran your fingers through his hair - pulling him even closer - Schmidt would moan against your sensitive flesh, looking you in the eyes before continuing to pleasure you.

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will fuck you all over the house when Abby is out or at school - kitchen, living room, balcony or anywhere that is empty enough - covering your mouth with his hand, while he shoves his thick, pulsing length into you , without any protection. He's the type of man who likes to spill every drop of his seed into your womb, painting your spongy walls pearly white, while grunting and praising you, telling you how good your pussy is for his dick, he likes to call you a "hungry little slut" with each hot jet that comes out of him, while he smiles and growls when he sees your expression of lust.

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will leave you breathless, pushing you against the cold bathroom sink as he forces you to look in the mirror, you can see the dark circles under his eyes, his naked body against yours, how his cock slides against your wetness easily as he grabs your chin with his fingers - putting enough force to turn the tips white - He would see every reaction, every moan or scream that came out of you through reflection, roughly grabbing your hip with his other hand. His balls would already be wet from your juices with his, while the sounds of skin against skin could be heard echoing out of the room. "-Yes...Ah- Fucking hell my darling, your pussy swallowing my dick... just like that, keep it up please." he moaned hoarsely, as he looked at the sight of your wetness swallowing and repelling his shaft, with each rough thrust he made. "-You're such a good little thing for me, I'm going to give you every last drop of cum, right?"

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will make you get ready for him, putting on your best clothes, putting on perfume and makeup for him, just for him to fuck you doggystyle on the bed, pulling your hair to expose your neck while deeply marking your soft skin with his teeth - From the intensity of his hips, you could tell how angry he was at everything and everyone that night - you could hear him grunting and grumbling about some pay cut or how he didn't get a promotion to improve your life. He will take out all his anger on your pussy, leaving you a mess, your makeup was smudged, your clothes were messy or even torn in some corner of the room, you were at his mercy, while his fingers roughly rubbed over and over again on your clit - making a delicious combo with each violent thrust deep into your core. He will degrade you while fucking all your tight holes. "-You're my favorite slut." "-You asked for this didn't you? You're a needy whore for my dick- Mmm-" "-You're a cumdump for me, needy and a quivering mess for my dick."

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will love putting you between his legs, your knees hurt from the weight and hardness of the floor. His dick pulsed as you forced yourself to swallow everything, looking at him relaxing with each provocative yet relaxing and hot movement, while the head of his dick beat rhythmically in your throat. The wet sounds and muffled moans about his member made him grunt, throwing his head back, grabbing your head with his left hand while his right hand held the side of the chair, he was going to encourage you to go deeper. "-Please baby, be a good boy/girl and make me cum... Swallow it all for me ok?"

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike loves lying in bed completely naked, with his cock exposed to you, while watching you rub your pussy over him, he would be sleepy and tired, but the sight of you rubbing your wet pussy over him, looking for a release for everyone Your repressed lust was enough for him to stay awake for up to a few hours, resting his hands on your hips and squeezing the soft flesh of your ass as he moved down. Their eyes would be seeing the cum leaking from the tip of his dick, his crotch totally dirty, as he smiled at you, closing his eyes. "-Keep having fun baby... I'm here for you."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023