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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 days

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We're Not Here to F*ck Spiders

Summary: You were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel took a special interest in you. He wanted to know if your life would correspond with his and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. After an offhanded comment about reviewing your canon with Miguel outside of headquarters, your relationship with Spider-Man 2099 is forever changed.

Set in between ITSV and ATSV.

Pairing: Marc x OC Female!Reader

For context, Reader is an alternate, grown-up version of Mayday due to personal reasons (personal reasons being I’ve been obsessed with Mayday Parker since I was baby child)! No real use of Y/N, though Miguel does refer to the reader as "May" twice and Peter Parker nicknamed her Mayhem. Peter B.'s daughter is Mayday.

Word Count: 10.2k words (see why this took me forever?!)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI!!

CW/TW: An obscene amount of world-building, parents and kids fighting, mentions of a loss of a child, everyone being hot for Miguel, rough-ish sex (both partners are superheroes, come on), our boy is HUNG, dirty talk, a bit of cocky dom!Miguel, oral f!receiving, a lil bit of both m and f!receiving nipple play, PIV sex, riding, a quick spank, creampie, felching, and perhaps most intense of all, Miguel’s fear of commitment.

A/N: hahahahahaha this movie is nearly a year old and I FINALLY got around to writing a fic for it! Trust that I've been working on this on and off for a while now, but life has been nuts and writing more and more for work (yay!) but wanted to get this out while I had a slow week for everyone to enjoy!

Also, due to more personal reasons, my HC for Reader's parents are Peter and Mary Jane from Sam Raimi's masterpiece in 2002. But no presh if that doesn't jibe with ya!

I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS FIC AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF ANYTHING

“Careful, Mayday!” you fondly called after the child who was literally bouncing off the cavernous walls of HQ. Yeesh, were you this energetic when you were her age? Probably. It never ceased to be weird, hanging out with an alternate baby version of yourself, but you could manage if you pretended she was your little niece, or sister, or something like that.

The alternate baby version of Mayday Parker in question didn’t heed your admonishment at all (which tracked), so you called again, “Oh noooo…I’m gonna have to come up there and get ya!”

Mayday squealed in delight at your “threat” and only zipped around quicker. However, you had a couple decades on her, so your reflexes were more attuned. It didn’t take long for you to capture her in your grasp and tickle her. However, little Mayday wasn’t going to give up that easily. She squirmed out of your hold and began scaling the nearby wall at a dizzying pace.

“Okay, missy, let’s settle down,” you announced, shooting a web to meet the infant on the platform she’d crawled onto. You continued to speak as you swung, “you know how Miguel is, we can’t get too carried…away.”

You nearly threw yourself back off the platform when you were met with the sight of Miguel himself standing before you holding May.

“Oh, hi,” you gestured to the squirming girl in his hands, “thanks. I was right behind her.”

“What am I like?” He asked, an inquisitive arch in his brow.

“You’re…you run a tight ship that’s all,” you wished a portal would swallow you whole. “And it’s great! We need it.”

“Are you supposed to be anywhere?” Miguel prodded further as he passed you May.

“Me? No, it's my day off.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you put Peter B. on a mission and it gives me anxiety when he takes her.”

“You and me both,” he huffed.

“That being said, anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah actually, I have new sequencing to go over with you.”

Though the multiverse was ever-expanding, you were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel had taken a special interest in you. Since you were a second generation Spider, Miguel wanted to know if your life would correspond with his, your dad’s, and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. You initially found the whole concept fascinating, yet that interest waned pretty quickly when Miguel informed you that he was going to have Lyla analyze your entire life and have you expound on your experiences so he could compare you to the other Spiders.

Not that there was anything you were particularly ashamed of, but some of this stuff was embarrassing. Unlike baby Mayday, whose powers had already emerged, yours didn’t make an appearance until puberty. Reviewing your awkward teen years wasn’t exactly your ideal way of spending time with an unfairly hot guy, let alone the head of Spider Society.

“Oh okay, yeah,” you replied. “When Peter gets ba—“

“MAYDAY! WHERE’S MY PUMPKIN?” Peter’s voice echoed across the room.

No sooner had Peter spoken did Mayday websling herself off of the platform and into her father’s arms.

Shit, there went your excuse. A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Convenient.”

“Sí. Follow me.”

You did as Miguel said and trailed behind him to his…office didn’t quite describe it. Work station? Lair? You lasted all of forty-five seconds before your gaze dropped to his sculpted backside, a new record for you.

It really was unfair that the intense, ornery leader of the Spider Society had to be so damn fine. You were a superhero and a consummate professional, but at the end of the day, you were a mostly heterosexual human woman with eyes. Miguel was stupidly sexy. His shoulder-to-waist ratio, that chiseled face, and of course, perfectly round ass had been the topic of a few hushed, giggly conversations between you and the other Spiders that liked boys.

It was only ever cheeky whispers however. All of you knew better than to catch any real feelings for Miguel. One, it was majorly inappropriate. And two, he’d built emotional walls higher than the tallest skyscrapers in Nueva York.

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander every now and then…you blamed it on your latest breakup. Spider-Girl duties had yet again claimed another potential partner. You suspected that was the reason it was more and more difficult not to fantasize about Miguel lately. Like sure, he was probably an animal in bed in the best way, but it was the prospect of not having to hide anything from him that appealed to you even more.

“Lyla, bring up the latest sequencing,” Miguel ordered.

If it weren’t for your spider-senses, you would’ve collided with his impossibly cut back, you were so deep into your thirsty thoughts.

Suddenly, you were back on Earth-982A in your childhood bedroom. Or at least, that’s where you appeared to be. The virtual surroundings would’ve been comforting if it weren’t for the particular event that Miguel had wanted to revisit.

Your father was forbidding you to use your powers. Again. You gazed at the rendering of your teenage self with compassion. Now, your father was fully supportive of you following in his footsteps, but the journey there had been rough.

“You know, most parents would be happy if their kid wanted to do something to help the world!”

Your dad scoffed. “That doesn’t matter - I’m not most parents and you’re not most kids!”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?!” Virtual you fired back. “I was born like this because of you! Dad, you’re always telling me that ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ and now when I discover I inherited that great power, I can’t use it!?”

“Pause,” Miguel’s voice spooked you back into the present. When you finally shook yourself from the memory that was playing before you, you found his eyes on yours. “Okay, there. Define ‘always’.”

“Quantitatively?”

“Preferably.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Qualitatively, then.”

“I mean, it's one of those things he said so much that I can’t remember the first time I heard it.”

“When did your dad first hear it?”

“His Uncle Ben told him during their last conversation together.”

“Checks out. And how old was he?”

“He was a senior in high school, so like seventeen, eighteen?”

Miguel nodded. Even though x-ray vision nor telepathy weren’t in your powerset, you could practically see all the comparisons and calculations he was making in his head.

“So using your powers to help people, that was your instinct when you inherited your abilities.”

“Yeah.”

Miguel nodded again.

“It’s different, isn’t it?” you asked him. He didn’t reply. “My dad told me he entered some god awful cage-match-wrestling-thing to get enough money to buy a car and impress my mom before he officially became Spider-Man.”

Miguel was seemingly too busy with entering his latest data to respond. Instead, he barked at Lyla, “Resume sequence.”

The holographic version of your dad lurched back to life to argue, “May, you are my great responsibility! So if I say no powers, no powers! I did this a lot longer than you! ”

Tears streamed down your adolescent face. Thankfully, you’d lost some of the baby fat since. “I hate you! I HATE YOU DAD!!”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t easy to live, let alone re-live. So, as a Spider, naturally you made a jaunty, off-handed comment. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Qué?”

“Nothing.” He fixed you with his signature scowl so you elaborated, “Seriously, nothing. Though, maybe if we did this in an environment where I had access to alcohol and carbs, this would be less um…less unsettling for me.”

Miguel stared at you blankly. “But the simulator is here.”

“Right, of course.” Ughhhh, why was he so damn pretty?! “Forget I said anything, Miguel.”

He dropped it, but before the simulation could start again, your gizmo beeped. Benji’s basketball game started in twenty.

“Actually, sorry, I have to go.”

“But we just got started.”

“I know, but I haven’t been able to catch one of my little brother’s games yet this season, and it’s almost the playoffs.”

“Won’t he under–”

You interrupted Miguel. “You realize spider-stuff is not a viable excuse with my family, right? Besides, it’s my day off. I’m only here out of the goodness of my own heart and my commitment to the Spider-Society.”

He rolled his eyes at your remark, but couldn’t help a little half - nay, quarter - smile from forming across the lips you had fantasized about kissing one too many times. “Things are quiet for once. We should knock this out now.”

“We should,” you conceded as you created a portal, “but trying to have some semblance of work-life balance is Spider-Girl canon.”

And with that, you hopped back into your world, before you could change your mind or say anything else stupid and/or unintentionally flirty to Miguel.

You re-appeared in your apartment with just enough time to throw on clothes and swing over to the middle school. Your mom was waiting as you hurried into the gym right as Benji and the other players were taking the court.

“Look who made it,” MJ observed wryly.

“Ha ha,” you fired back humorlessly, but pulled your mom into a hug all the same. “Where’s Dad?”

The ref’s whistle signaled tip off and the beginning of the game, momentarily distracting you two. You were thrilled to see Benji starting – he really wanted to make JV when he started high school next year, and this was a step in the right direction.

“Go Benji!!” MJ cheered before answering your question, “He hit traffic coming from the station. He’ll be here soon.”

Your collective attention was pulled to the game unfolding in front of you, then MJ asked, “What have you been up to today?”

“Me? I was at the society for a bit, helping with the baby.”

You didn’t need to see your mother to know that she tensed at the mention of the Spider-Society and Peter B.’s Mayday. It, understandably, weirded her out.

“How can it not be strange to care for–”

“It would be if we were closer in age,” you pointed out. “But it’s just like babysitting with Mayday right now. And trust me, after all the versions of Dad I’ve met, hanging out with little me is nothing.”

Despite being weirded out, your mom always tried to empathize, so she switched gears. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Ugh, just more sequencing with Miguel - today was a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Fights with Dad from years ago that I know we’ve moved past, but still suck to watch.”

Your mom took your hand in hers, a much-needed grounding gesture. “Well, you’re back in the present, in your corner of the universe now, sweetie.”

You gave her hand an appreciative squeeze and took her words to heart, focusing on the basketball game in front of you. It didn’t take too long to put the earlier events from headquarters behind you – Benji scored a couple baskets and you took it upon yourself to meticulously document the game on your phone for memories and possible future blackmail.

When your Dad did join you and MJ, you couldn’t help but hug him tightly. You buried your face into his coat, which smelled like a mix of smoke from the streets and his aftershave.

It was Peter’s mix of spider and paternal instincts that prompted him to ask, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured him, giving him some space. “I just–I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Mayhem.” Where Mayday was Peter B’s moniker for his daughter, Mayhem was your dad’s nickname for you.

The game ended in victory for Benji’s team, the Midtown Mavericks, and you three waited for the youngest member of the Parker family to emerge from the locker room.

Benji’s face when he saw you made any lingering discomfort you had leaving Miguel one thousand percent worth it. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you pulled Benji into a hug - however reluctant he was to it since he was a ~teenager~ now. “Dude, you put up points tonight!”

But Benji had gotten distracted, so instead of responding to you, he murmured “Woah, that guy is swole.”

You turned around to see who he was talking about and your jaw nearly hit the floor.

It was Miguel.

Even more incredibly, he was in civilian clothes. It wasn’t until you witnessed him in dark wash jeans, a henley, and a well-worn bomber jacket that you realized that you’d actually never seen Miguel in anything other than his spider suit.

He called your name and you acknowledged him with a wave, flabbergasted. Even more astonished that you knew this very attractive hunk of man was your brother, “Wait, you know him?!”

“We work together,” you said quietly.

“At the paper?” Benji was confused.

“No, at my other job.”

“Oh,” it clicked for him. “That makes sense. Man, I hope I get that jacked when I get my powers.”

“Shhhh, be cool Benji,” you urged him.

“Um, I’m not the one you have to worry about,” he harrumphed. “Oh shit, you like him.”

Though there was more than a decade between you and Benji, your little brother was still your little brother. “No! He’s the head of the Spider-Society and he’s–you’ll see.”

You took a step forward to greet Miguel before anyone else from your family could get to him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to finish our work today, and since it’s your day off, I decided to come to you.”

“Miguel O’Hara making a compromise? How not canon. Wonder how big of a hole that’s gonna tear in the multiverse.”

“Shut up,” he ordered you playfully.

“Miguel, good to see you!” Your dad strode over and pulled the younger spider-man into a handshake.

“You too, Dr. Parker.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how oddly deferential Miguel was with your dad. He’d met Peter first, when he was establishing the Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse. Miguel was stunned to discover that this Peter was not only retired, but had a full-grown daughter who’d taken up his crime-fighting mantle. Apparently your dad’s canon was particularly important and central to the greater Spiderverse, which meant Miguel would pester you with questions about him constantly.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, “You don’t usually make house calls.”

Before Miguel could explain, an elbow nearly sent you into careening into his broad chest. Mom.

“Miguel, this is my mom, Mary Jane.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Miguel dutifully offered his hand to her.

“The pleasure is mine,” your mom gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Benji was right. He was not the person you had to be worried about. A rip in the multiverse to swallow you whole would be rather convenient right about now.

Miguel’s brow creased. “You have?”

“She hasn’t,” you intervened. “Like two or three things in passing, max. Promise I haven’t broken my NDA or you know, the superhero code of secrecy or anything.”

Mercifully, Miguel let it slide for the time being. He turned to your brother. “And you must be Benji.”

“Yeah,” Benji confirmed, doing a terrible job of pitching his voice lower. “‘Sup, bro.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you were ready to rip the fabric of reality yourself to end this.

“Congrats on the win. Hate to do this, but I need to steal your sister for a bit.”

“No problem, I know she’s fine with it.” Perhaps Benji needed a reminder regarding which sibling had the super powers. “Also, what’s your workout–”

“Well, as fun as this all is, we should probably get back to work.”

Your family didn’t put up much of a fight – thank God – as pleasantries were exchanged and you and Miguel took off. You hoped Miguel didn’t catch when your mother mouthed “So handsome!!” to you as everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the two of you walking down East 36th Street.

“Sorry about them,” you began.

He looked at you, puzzled. “Why?”

“My family. Embarrassing.”

“They’re not embarrassing. They’re…they’re nice,” there was pain behind Miguel’s eyes. “It’s interesting. Your brother hasn’t experienced any spider-abilities, has he?”

“No,” you confirmed. “Not yet.”

You two slowed to stop on the corner. Miguel looked at you expectantly. “So, where to?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to do this in an environment where you ‘had access to alcohol and carbs’.”

“Oh! Right. Hmmm, where are we?” you looked up at the cross streets above you. “36th and 3rd? I know a place.”

You took Miguel to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian spot nearby. Since it was so close to Benji’s school and your old middle and high school, you had spent many a week night at their tables, either working on homework or chowing down after basketball practice.

Therefore, the staff knew you – it was a family owned spot, you’d basically grown up with the owner’s children, Maria and Chris. Though you graduated from Midtown Charter a looong time ago, they still took care of you. Maria had even let you use their first aid kit once, no questions asked, after a nasty Spider-Girl skirmish nearby. You didn’t suspect she knew anything, but even if she did, you could trust Maria to be discreet.

At least, you thought you could trust Maria, but when she showed you and Miguel to your table, and Miguel made a pit stop at the restroom, she very indiscreetly asked, “Daaaamn, girl. He your boyfriend? Because you–”

“No!”

“You getting dicked down by him?”

“No!”

“Can I get dicked down by him? He single? Does he like the ladies?”

“Maria, he’s a colleague. Actually, he’s my superior. So no…unfortunately, no.”

Maria cackled with delight. “That’s a pen worth sticking in your company ink. I’ll bring you some garlic bread.”

“And a glass of red wine,” you added. “no, a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!”

In theory, you had thought that reviewing sequencing outside of headquarters would’ve been less awkward, but in reality, it was more so. You couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Miguel in normal clothes, the intimacy of having a meal together when usually your interactions were so sterile and professional, plus there was a little voice in your head screaming that THIS WAS BASICALLY A DATE on repeat.

“So should we pick up where we left off?” Miguel asked. The question brought you back down to Earth. Despite that little persistent voice in your head oohing and ahhing at him, it was clear that Miguel didn’t think this was a date. This dinner was a means to end, nothing more.

“Let me get a little wine drunk first,” you bargained.

“Yeah, but you have sped-up metabolism, so that’ll take at least–”

“That was a joke. Miguel, when was the last time you went out to dinner?”

He seemed to truly consider the question, then, “I don’t know.”

You’d never heard Miguel say those three words in that order before.

“I promise you I will go over my cringe teen years with you, but can we eat some garlic bread and not get drunk off this very nice bottle of wine first?”

“You’re worse than Lyla,” his eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She’s always trying to get me to take breaks.”

“You should! There’s only so much self-flagellation a human can take, even if they’re a superhero.”

Miguel’s response was a very inarticulate grumble. Maria dropped off the wine, bread, and took your order. You didn’t know what was more insane – the amount of food Miguel ordered or how unabashedly Maria was ogling him.

“Let me guess, Lyla’s the one who suggested the field trip to my home dimension?”

Another grumble, this one in the affirmative.

“Classic,” you remarked with a snort before taking a gulp from your glass. “I love that your AI is smarter than you.”

“Of course she is, she can access all of the multiverse’s knowledge in a nano-second.’

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

“Can we not talk about me for a second?”

“Why?”

“Because…because, I don't know, I was hoping doing this in a more casual environment would–it’d make it feel more like a conversation.”

“We are having a conversation.”

“Jeez, Miguel,” you took another sip of wine. “It’s not easy digging through my past like this. A lot of the time it feels more like an interrogation.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I want to help you, help the Spider-Society, but the one-sidedness of this is exhausting.”

“Exhausting.” He sounded dubious.

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll take care of the bill and see you tomorrow, and we can go back to reviewing the sequencing like we normally do. I should know better than to complain to you.”

Miguel looked at you if your words had stung him. “You can complain to me.”

“No, I can’t,” you disputed. “You’re the most self-sacrificing Spider out of any of us–which is really saying something, by the way–and I feel lame talking about my feelings with you.”

“And that’s why our reviews feel like interrogations,” he was putting it together.

“Yeah. Sorry to drag you out of HQ.”

Miguel scrutinized you with a long, unreadable look before announcing, “I’m not leaving before I have my bolognese.”

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. Miguel may have lacked the traditional spidey precognitive sense, and the signature spider sense of humor, but he definitely had the stubbornness you all seemed to possess.

You shot him a sidelong glare. “Why did you come here?”

“I told you - I wanted to finish sequencing and Lyla suggested coming to you.”

“But you didn’t have to take her suggestion.”

Miguel’s large frame shifted in the chair that suddenly appeared too small for him. “Like you said, she’s smarter than me, so I did. And yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out to dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. Right before the silence became intolerable, Miguel spoke again, “You still with that gu–’

“No.” The last thing you wanted to talk about with Miguel was your failed relationship with Gene, and you’d once discussed the correlation of getting your first period could’ve had with your powers emerging with him.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, you get it.”

Miguel at last took a sip from his glass. “All too well.”

“The price of being a hero, right?” you sent him a small, sympathetic smile across the table. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.”

“Your parents seemed to have figured it out,” he pointed out.

“Well, that took like decades, and according to you, they’re canon, right? So it was meant to be. I guess that’s one of the comforts of having a canon-confirmed soulmate.”

“Yeah, if you're Peter Parker.”

Your heart sank at the implication. “So that means if a Spider isn’t Peter we’re meant to die alone?”

“I don’t know,” Miguel’s eyes were averted. “Maybe only if you’re a Miguel O’Hara.”

“Stop, you could get anyone in this restaurant to sleep with you,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Our waitress has to resist climbing on top of you whenever she passes the table.”

He swatted away the implication as if it were a pest. “That’s different.”

“You know, it might help with the stress.”

“What?”

“Letting someone climb on top of you.”

Miguel glared at you, “Don’t.”

“See? It’s not fun being on the other side of the questions,” you smirked. Your conversation was briefly suspended when Maria returned with your entrees. After thanking her, you refocused back on Miguel, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No.”

“DADA!” A child, who couldn’t have been more than three, screeched happily from a neighboring table.

Miguel froze. For the first time in the several months that you’d known him, you saw his face soften. The warmth that filled his eyes at the sight of the toddler was undeniable. The fond expression hardened back into his stoic facade within an instant, yet Miguel couldn’t fully conceal the anguish that clearly still haunted him. He never could.

“Sorry,” you said softly.

He shook off your condolences. “What’d you want to ask me?”

“Have you tried seeing anyone after…” it felt forbidden to say Gabriella’s name out loud.

“What’s the point?” Miguel shrugged. “I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to.”

“Right,” you hedged.

Eventually, you and Miguel were able to find things to talk about outside of work and your respective traumas. You compared notes on the lamest villain you’d each encountered rounding up anomalies, discussed the idea of a nursery for spider-babies, or as Miguel insisted on calling them, “second-generation Spiders” – Peter couldn’t keep taking his kid on missions, plus Jessica Drew had just learned she was expecting – you even got Miguel to open up about his teenage days some.

“Makes sense you were a rebel,” you chuckled, taking one last bite of the tiramisu Maria insisted was on the house.

“Yeah? Why?” Miguel prodded.

“Because you-re so uptigh–upstanding now.”

You were treated to another rare grin from Miguel, this time a half smile rather than a quarter. “Nice save.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you contended with put-on innocence.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t always like what I have to do, you know.”

Your gaze locked directly with his for a breath-taking second, his eyes garnets in the low light of the dining room. “We should get going, I've taken you away from headquarters for long enough.”

“You act like I’ve never left HQ before, and if anything, I took you away from your family,” Miguel parried, yet stood up nonetheless. You followed suit, only mildly disappointed he didn’t argue with you about leaving. As awkward as this dinner initially was, you’d actually ended up enjoying it. “I’ll take you home.”

Miguel’s words stopped you in your tracks, “You know I’m the protector of this city, right?”

“Obviously, I—” he huffed as you waved goodbye to Maria and exited back onto the street. “Mierda May, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Oh. Oh. Did Miguel think this was a date too? Date was too strong of a word – did Miguel think this was a not-entirely-work-related-hang too?

You struggled to keep your face blasé. “Ah, okay. We taking the subway or are we swinging?”

Miguel shot you a look as if the choice was obvious, which is how you found yourself traipsing across the city with Spider-Man 2099. You’d traveled by web plenty of times with Miguel before on missions, but there was something about it being the two of you, in your city, that made it feel just a little bit special.

And to be honest, you’d never get enough of watching Miguel’s body hurtle through the air – despite his bulk and brawn, he was agile and lithe as he swung from building to building with you. You nearly plunged into traffic on Sixth Avenue after your thoughts had wandered to what those bulging muscles looked like unencumbered by that skin-tight suit of his.

When you arrived at your apartment in Morningside Heights, you were suddenly self-conscious. You’d never brought a Spider to your residence, and Miguel was likely the hardest to impress of them all.

He studied your modest one-bedroom with the same intensity as he did his screens at the Spider-Society.

“It’s not much, I know,” you began, “and with Spider-Girl stuff, I don’t have the time to keep it as tidy as I'd like to.”

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled before catching himself. “I mean, it’s perfect for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t need much, but it gets good light during the day and was the highest floor I could afford at my price point,” you removed your mask as you babbled on.

“Makes sense,” Miguel nodded.

You had no idea where to go from there – what on Earth was the man playing at? Should you offer him water, another drink, the best spot to portal back to HQ? He was lingering in your space, seemingly fascinated by the framed prints on your walls, the photos on the coffee table and credenza.

“Um, do you need to use the restroom or something? Because it’s right through there,” you motioned to the appropriate door.

“I’m good for now.”

THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? You hollered in your head. Externally, you kept playing hostess, “Let me get you a glass of water then–”

Yet Miguel caught your wrist before you could retreat into your tiny, galley kitchen. You weren’t proud of how your heart leapt and your breath hitched at the contact.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?”

He shrugged, “I should, but–”

“But what?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…about letting someone climb on top of me.”

You gulped, “Sorry, that was so inappropriate of me–”

“It was. Inappropriate, that is, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” he tugged you closer to him. You could barely stand to meet his eyes, alight with desire, while your heart was pounding embarrassingly fast.

“Um, judging by the–uh, do you want me to climb on top of you, Miguel?” you were always so much smoother in your daydreams about him.

His lips hovered dangerously near yours. “Do you want to climb on top of me?”

The closer you got to Miguel, the faster your brain turned to scrambled eggs. His large, sure hands had settled on your hips.

“Uh huh,” was the best you could muster before he crashed your lips together.

Miguel’s kiss was searing and all-consuming – it felt as if the longer your mouths moved against each other, the more your body melted into his. He was tall, so tall, and even for a superhero like yourself, it was difficult to keep yourself perched on the balls of your feet to reach his skilled, hungry mouth.

He seemed to sense your struggle, and without breaking your liplock, he scooped you up into his arms. It was foreign but not unwelcome – you were so used to being the strongest, the person who held others, the hero. Therefore, being held so effortlessly in Miguel’s arms was nothing short of exhilarating. You weren’t the strongest person in the room anymore, you could surrender. You loved it.

Miguel pressed your back into the nearest wall, causing an emphatic moan to leave you when your hips became flush with his. You could already feel him – hot, hard, and big – between the flimsy fabric of your spider-suits. Instinctually, you canted your heat against his, delighting in the way he seemed to grow hotter, harder, not to mention unbelievably bigger, when you did.

“Bedroom?” he gasped between harsh, ardent kisses.

You managed to fling a hand in the correct direction, and next thing you knew, Miguel was depositing you onto your bed. You propped yourself up, leaning back on your palms to take in the man towering over you at the edge of your bed. In a flash of color and light, his suit disappeared from his strapping physique, and the sight of Miguel naked intoxicated you more than alcohol ever could.

His shoulders seemed even broader without the unstable particles of his suit covering them. His pecs were massive, which made a delectable ratio when his chest tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and slim hips. Slim hips that framed the biggest cock you’d seen outside of porn – hell, maybe even including porn. He was long and thick – it made a dark thrill race down your spine when you contemplated how the hell that was going to fit inside of you.

Miguel noticed you marveling at his package, misinterpreting the rapacious glint in your eye as unease, “I’ll prep you, I won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m not worried” you glanced back up at his face coquettishly.

“No?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow and advanced toward you on the bed, a jaguar stalking its prey. He nudged you onto your back and pinned your wrists to your comforter, “maybe you should be.”

You muscled out of Miguel’s grip and switched positions so you were straddling him. Only then did you lean closer and whisper into his ear, “I can take it.”

Miguel growled, and within an instant, you were on your back once again as he pawed at your suit. Unlike his costume, your spider-suit was made of plain old fabric, so there was a bit of fumbling, cursing in Spanish, nervous giggling, and a mumbled comment about ‘making you a suit like mine’ from Miguel before you were nude as well.

He splayed you out against your mattress as if you were a feast before him. Your first instinct was to try and cover yourself but Miguel’s dark gaze froze you. A pleased groan rumbled from his chest and then his large hands flew to your breasts. “Such full, perky tits.”

You moaned in response to his ministrations. How was this real? You and Miguel were touching each other – naked – and you hadn’t woken up yet.

“It’s all for you,” you mewled, relishing his hot palms on your sensitive buds.

Another growl ripped from his chest before he swooped down and sucked one of your nipples into his warm, wanting mouth. You keened, a pathetic, high-pitched sound, and you wove your fingers into his dark locks as he gorged himself on your tits.

The pull of Miguel’s mouth on your peaks was made only better when he snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger along the seam of your sex. You bucked at the touch, your reaction causing Miguel to lift his head from your bosom.

“Mmmm, you like it when I play with your pussy, cariño?”

At this point words had all but left you so you nodded and whined in the affirmative. Miguel’s digit parted your folds, tracing up and down, then found your clit and rubbed slow, tortuous circles into the nub.

“So wet for me, bebita,” he observed, maddeningly casually, while he played you like an instrument. “This is all for me, huh?”

Your head thrashed back and forth on your comforter with a sob, both from pleasure and bashfulness. Now there was no downplaying how horny Miguel made you.

“Shhh,” he cooed at you, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his groin, “feel what you do to me.”

This time your moan was unabashed as your hand circled around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

“I know,” he grunted. Normally, such braggadocio from a man would be an immediate turn off to you. But Miguel wasn’t being arrogant, not when he was referring to the thick, pulsing hardness you were currently caressing. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

He guided your hand away from his member, even despite your protests, to wrench your thighs wider and bury his head between them. The realization alone that Miguel O’Hara was about to eat you out almost made you come, yet actually feeling his tongue on your needy cunt was infinitely better. He licked a stripe from your perineum to your clit, tearing another ragged moan from you when his tongue focused in on the bundle of nerves.

Miguel chuckled against your folds at your enthusiastic praise and redoubled his efforts. Your fingers reflexively tangled in his inky locks once again as he continued his delectable assault on your pussy. The way Miguel tasted you matched with how he seemed to approach everything – he was vehement and determined to bring you pleasure like how he was when he worked. He managed to just stay on the right side of rough as he slurped at you..though perhaps that was a bit different than how he fought.

He speared his tongue into your hole, affording you the opportunity to grind your clit against his prominent nose. In your pleasure-filled haze, you briefly fretted that you were suffocating Miguel, but when you tried to scooch away and give him some air, the man grunted and pulled your hips closer to him.

You keened again when one of his thick fingers joined the fray as he prepped you. After all the sexual tension, all the self-denial, and all the excitement the night had held, it felt so good to clench around something. He was again methodical with his preparation, allowing you to adjust to one digit before adding another, and another. It couldn’t have made a starker contrast with how he was devouring your sex. Even in the bedroom, Miguel O’Hara was full of contradictions. It didn’t take long for your breaths to become more shallow, for your cries to reach a higher pitch as you climaxed around his hefty fingers. The combination of the penetration and the stimulation of your clit with his mouth was too good to resist.

You were slightly relieved that Miguel remained nestled between your legs while you rode out your peak. The orgasm he’d given you was much too good to be able to control your facial expressions.

He at last came up for air once you’d begun floating down from your peak. A primal pride surged through you at the sight of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smash your mouths together, eager to sample the combination you two made. It was all too easy to get lost in a kiss with Miguel, yet as you plundered his mouth with your tongue, your hand crept back down his groin.

This time it was Miguel who moaned into your mouth as you returned him to full mast with feather-light, teasing touches.

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped between kisses.

“Finally,” you bantered back.

A growl from Miguel and then he tackled you back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help the giggle – partly from nerves, partly from anticipation – that escaped you at his actions, despite the visage of a hulking, intimidating man hovering over you could be frightening in another context.

“Do you have protection?”

You hesitated. You kept a box of condoms in your bedside drawer, but given Miguel’s size, they’d be inadequate.

“None that would fit you,” you confessed, stealing another glance at his large erection. It was truly a sight to behold. Miguel deflated slightly, fearing penetration was off the table, and usually it would be. You were firmly a two methods of contraception girl, but there was no way you were going to pass up this chance to have sex with Miguel. “Don’t worry Spidey, I’m on the pill.”

“Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, then wasted no time situating himself between your hips. He drew yet another mewl from you when he slapped the tip of his cock a few times on your clit before lining himself up with your entrance.

He found you looking at him expectantly. And though Miguel mostly saw desire in your eyes, he could see the glimpse of unease too. He assured you, “I’ll go slow.”

You nodded, you trusted him after all, but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of when Miguel finally pushed into you. Just the tip was already splitting you apart more than Gene, or any former lover for that matter, ever had.

“Breathe,” Miguel rasped. You couldn’t tell if he was advising you or himself though. It struck you then that you’d perhaps achieved the damn-near impossible – disarming the notoriously closed-off Miguel O’Hara. He looked beautiful, biting his plush lower lip as he slowly rocked more and more of his huge cock inside of you.

Your back arched off the mattress of the sensation of being progressively speared on the monster that Miguel called a dick. It was too much and not enough all at once, and your fingers dug into your comforter below you. He tried to distract you from any potential pain, Miguel’s index finger returning to your barely-recovered clit.

“That’s it, open up for me,” he husked. Your head swam at the mix of his enormous manhood stretching you to your limit and his tender, in-control tone. The realization hit you harder than a punch from an anomaly. In that moment, fear skittered down your throat and pooled into your stomach, resting right above where you two were joined. He’s going to ruin me for other men, isn’t he?

You couldn’t think any further since not only was Miguel fully seated within you, he had asked you a question. Your eyes glassy and pupils blown, found his, and he repeated himself. “You okay? Can-can I move?”

“Yes,” you gasped. In case your breath affirmation left any room for doubt, you added, “please.”

Another grunt from your lover and Miguel at last began to thrust into you. Your arms flew from the bed to his impossibly wide shoulders, your nails digging into the caramel, taut skin there. You couldn’t tell exactly when it’d happened, lost in the deliciously lewd sounds you were making between the slap of your bodies, your labored breaths, and his determined staccato grunts while Miguel railed you, but your hips had begun to meet his.

“M-more Miguel,” you urged him as you dragged your fingertips down the expanse of his back. Each of your hands grabbed a fistful of that glorious ass and squeezed to drive home your point.

“You sure?”

You moaned. It was as if he couldn’t give it to you hard or faster enough. You used your grip on the globes of his perfect rear to try and force him to increase to the pace and force you needed him to fuck you at.

Miguel laughed. A dark and stirring sound that made you involuntarily tighten around his girthy length. “Alright bebita, but remember…you asked for this.”

His words ignited something defiant within you. You pulled Miguel’s head from where it had fallen into the crook of your neck so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I’m not some pillow princess from Nueva. I’m just as strong as you are, I can go just as hard you can, and I want you to fuck me.”

Your lover’s eyes darkened at your demand. The growl that ripped from his throat was your only warning before Miguel unleashed the full force of his strength on you. You keened in pleasure as he all but drove you through your bedframe and the wall behind it. Miguel captured your wrists once more and restrained you against the mattress as he absolutely pounded into your pussy.

His drilling drew another ecstatic cry from your mouth. Miguel glared down at you, his eyes nearly crazed, his face barely lit in the ambient light from the street. It truly was infuriating to you how beautiful this man was. You watched his brow furrowed in concentration – not on his stupid screens for once – and his dark hair shift in time with his thrusts. Your features contorted in pleasure when Miguel switched from drilling into you to swiveling his hips to stuff you with his cock. His movements were deliberate and slow, he was trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You almost went cross-eyed at the feel of his bulbous cockhead punching against your cervix.

The criminal undulations of his hips extracted a little yip from you each time he pistoned into you. He grinned down at you wolfishly. Equal parts indignation and arousal bloomed within you. Also, was the first time you'd ever seen Miguel smile? Not a little half-smirk or a humorless quirk of his lips, but an unabashed smile?

“Want me to back off?”

Oh, there was no way you were going to take that lying down. Even if Miguel’s pubic bone was perfectly grinding into your clit.

You let out a growl of your own and summoned all the power in your core muscles to wrestle Miguel back and claim the high ground. Out of breath when you found yourself seated on Miguel’s dick, his large, muscled body prone beneath you, you braced yourself on his rippled abdomen.

“Is the itsy-bitsy Spider-Girl gonna ride my cock?” he taunted you. If Miguel didn’t wear that arrogant, playful smirk so well, you would’ve wiped it from his lips.

You slid your hands up the length of his chest and leaned over, your face hovering over his. “That depends. Can 2099 handle it?”

Miguel answered you with an impatient buck of his hips up into your sex. You giggled as you straightened up again, tweaking one of Miguel's nipples as you went. You relished the little shudder it sent through him. “Alright, but remember baby, you asked for this.”

He snorted out a laugh, which you quickly silenced once you began riding Miguel like the stud he was. “Hnnn–shock, bebita.”

“Ah,” you sighed as you bounced on his prick. Before sleeping with Miguel, you had assumed the term “feeling him in your guts” was hyperbole. Not with him. “Fuck, you’re even bigger like this.”

A large hand traced its way up one of your thighs, now lightly covered with a sheen of sweat, past your sex, split apart by his shaft, to where Miguel’s manhood made the slightest bulge in your lower belly. His smile became wider and even cockier. “It’s good, no?”

You gave him a nonverbal, but enthusiastic, reply. He smacked your ass in satisfaction, “Yeah c’mon, cariño, ride me. Wanna watch your tits bounce.”

You officially hated Miguel and his big, thick, perfectly sized cock. Where as with other partners you’d smack them right back with a zinger, all you could do was moan again. His naughty, domineering words did nothing but excite you. There was something about him and the way he fucked that made you incapable of doing little else than enthusiastically submitting to him. You leaned back, your fingers clutching onto Miguel’s thick thighs to stability as you changed angles and gave him a better view of your breasts jiggling in time with your motions.

“Ay, sí bebita,” Miguel’s hands flew to your hips to intensify the frantic mashing of your bodies together, “Ven aquí.”

He gathered your torso in his hulking arms and pulled you closer so that he could coax a breast into his mouth again as you rode him.

“You gonna come for me Miguel?” you panted.

“No,” he sounded as winded as you were. “Not yet.”

You clenched around him and snickered. “Are you sure?”

“¡Coño!” Miguel snarled at the feel of your already blistering, tight pussy suffocating his dick further. “¡No más – basta de esto!”

The vision of your bedroom swam when Miguel lifted you off his pulsing member and dropped you back on your stomach onto the mattress facing the foot of the bed.. You could hear him shifting behind you, and you blindly groped for the lower metal railing of your bedframe’s footboard, only vaguely aware what was to come.

A grunt from Miguel, and the next thing you knew one of your pillows was stuffed under your lower belly and his massive hands were back on either side of your hips. Your lover didn’t give you any notice before shoving his fat erection back inside of your already tender pussy.

You shouted at the feeling of his cock stuffing you to the brim once again. Miguel’s hands appeared above your head where you held on for dear life as he impaled you on his prick.

“Ahhh!” you clamored, desperately trying to pull enough air in your lungs to function as Miguel squatted behind you. “I’ve never been so full! Oh God, Miguel, it’s so much…so much…”

Miguel responded with a pleased growl, and merely rammed into you harder. You were peripherally aware of the clanging of the pieces of your metal bed frame clanging together in protest at the vigor of your and Miguel’s coupling, but there were too many sensations overwhelming you at once to focus on one in particular. Not even when the metal groaned and the angle Miguel fucked you at changed did you pay attention to what was actually happening. You merely pushed back onto his cock as much as you could, your fingertips scrabbling into the folds of your comforter.

Your eyes screwed shut at the barrage of stimuli - the unrelenting stretch of Miguel’s hardness, his harsh but steadying grip on your hips, the light scratch of fabric beneath you on your skin, the little puff of warmth on the back of your neck from Miguel’s labored exhalations. You were sure this was better than any high any drug could provide. You hadn’t tried many, not even Rapture, and but nothing could top being thoroughly fucked into your mattress by Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel’s dogged grunts morphed into shouts when he at last found his release, spurting rope after rope of hot, creamy cum into your welcoming cunt. You found yourself crying out along with him as he emptied his load, your walls bearing down around his length as you both rode out his high. Miguel flooded your pussy with his seed and before you could even try to adjust to the feeling, he withdrew his cock from you, tearing a quite pathetic-sounding whimper from your mouth.

Miguel pulled your ass cheeks apart to examine your stretched, puffy pussy leaking his cum. His chest rumbled with primal delight. “Hermosa.”

You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath when Miguel dove back in for more, this time his eager, demanding tongue again invading your channel. You whimpered again, your pitch jumping an octave at Miguel’s needy tongue not only collecting his spunk from your pussy, but flicking the muscle against your clit. He was a man possessed, he ate you out as if he needed you to orgasm one more time for his survival.

You gave him what he wanted (how could you not?), and once the crest of your pleasure had subsided, you lightly pushed him away from your gaping, abused cunt.

The first thing you noticed when your wits returned to you was how much closer the ground had become.

“Oh my God,” you put it together and turned to face your partner, "we broke the bed.”

Miguel arched a brow from where he leant back into the pillows. “Are you surprised?”

You frowned at him.

“I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m going to…” you trailed off your gaze floating to the bathroom.

“Do your thing.”

“Can…can I get you anything?”

Miguel glanced down at his crotch. “A towel?”

You nodded. “Say no more.”

You ducked into your en-suite, and once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind you, you proceeded to have a freak out to yourself in the mirror. You scarcely believe your own appearance – lips kiss swollen, hair a veritable bird's nest, your mascara smudged into rings around your eyes. Miguel had destroyed you in the best of ways.

The thought sent a little aftershock of pleasure through you. You didn’t dally any longer — you relieved yourself, washed your hands, ran a brush through your hair and splashed water on your face. After dampening a washcloth for Miguel, you returned to the bedroom, where your bed frame was properly vertical again.

You glimpsed the glow of Miguel’s distinctive red webs holding the broken metal rods together. The other Spider was reclining on your mattress, a sheet haphazardly tossed over his groin to preserve his modesty. Even so, the sight of him made you go weak in the knees. He really did remind you of some sort of a large cat given the odd grace in which he lounged with, the evidence of his power and strength so poorly hidden under the surface of his skin.

“Get a new frame and expense it to Spider-HQ,” Miguel's baritone snapped you out of your reverie.

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” You tossed him the towel.

His eyes raked over your naked form. But instead of the desire you’d found there earlier, his gaze was full of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes. Very okay. A little sore but good sore, ya know?”

“Good,” Miguel busied himself with cleaning up.

“I mean, what’s the point of having superpowers if you can’t enjoy extra rough sex?” you joked.

“Yeah, about that,” Miguel refused to meet your eyes. “As um…great as all this was…I think we–it should be a one-time thing.”

“Um, duh.” He looked up at you hastily and you continued, “Miguel, neither of us are anywhere close to ready or in the right place for a relationship.”

Your heart disagreed with your words, but you uttered them anyway. Not because it was how you truly felt, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear. Miguel associated any sense of closeness or vulnerability with weakness and danger. Trying to get him to see otherwise was a fool's errand, and it was easier on your heart to convince yourself into concurring with him.

Oddly, Miguel didn’t seem to relax at your assurances. He looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

“Oh my God, you are so cocky!” you accused him with a playful slap to the broad, tan chest. “Spare me the fake worry 2099, you may be amazing at sex, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to be professional with you at HQ.”

“Amazing at sex?” Mirguel parroted you with a smirk.

You slapped him again. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Sorry but those are very distracting,” he claimed, his gaze focused on your exposed breasts.

You scoffed and grabbed a pillow to temporarily cover yourself. “Hang on there, Spider-Man. Yes, you are…not terrible at showing a lady a good time, no, you don’t have to worry about me being clingy at work, and yes, I’m sure so stop looking at me like that!”

You tossed the pillow away and straddled him. “Now I don’t know about you, but it’s only midnight. If this is indeed a one-time thing, I say we make the most of the night and the fact that no one has bothered us with some multiversal emergency yet.”

Miguel finally let it go, choosing to focus on your very nude body on top of his. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding his cock, already stiffening back up to full mast, against where you were still so nice and stretched for him.

“Vamos, bebita,” he whispered into your ear. His fingers dug into your sides possessively in a way that almost let you believe he was doing it because you were his. “Wanna fuck you on the ceiling.”

***

You shouldn't have been surprised that Miguel didn’t stay the night. You were honestly shocked when he collapsed beside you after the hours you’d spent vehemently fucking. Your bed was now held together by a mix of both his and your webs, one of your framed photos on the wall lay shattered on the floor to be dealt with later, and the ceiling now sported a dent that was going to be very difficult to explain to your landlord.

The memory of Miguel leaving was hazy at best. After so many rounds of deeply satisfying, intensely athletic sex, you felt like you could sleep for a week. Yet the shift and dip of Miguel’s large frame exiting the bed was enough to wake you. You could sort of recall a small flash of light and chirpy voice which must have been Lyla…and you also had a vague memory of him replying in a hushed rumble as if not to wake you up. Or was he telling you he was heading out? Everything jumbled together under the fog of sleep.

Either way, you had to tell yourself that the sensation of a large hand caressing your face and then tenderly stroking down the sleep-warm skin of your back was a dream. Not for Miguel’s sake, but yours.

Thanks to super-spider stamina, you only really needed a couple extra shots of espresso to function somewhat normally the following day at headquarters. You were angry at your instinct to avoid Miguel. You both were adults that had an adult, mature conversation that last night’s activities were merely a form of stress release that didn’t mean anything. It was hard to believe however, when you could still feel the phantom shape of him inside of you.

Besides, it’s not even like you could avoid him if you wanted to. You were scheduled to go over more sequencing today with Miguel, and you were dead set on not blinking first in the post-sex-awkwardness stand-off.

“Hey, Miguel!” your voice reverberated in the vast space.

Several agonizing moments later, his platform lowered enough for you two to start conversing. If he was at all bashful about seeing you, the man didn’t show it.

“Good. You’re here.”

“Yep.”

Miguel was all business. “I want to go back to the fight you had with your father. Lyla, take us to timestamp 46:90:45.”

Damn, and here you thought you were good at compartmentalizing. You did your best to hide any disappointment from reaching your face, playing along as if he hadn’t seen every crevice of your body the night before.

***

Days turned into weeks, and you eventually, reluctantly accepted that Miguel had told you the truth that night. What you two had shared was really just a one-time lapse of his frighteningly strong self-restraint.

You were enjoying a rare night in, parked on the couch, takeout boxes strewn about the coffee table, your favorite trashy reality show playing on your TV. You’d gotten injured taking down a Doc Ock variant a few days ago, and Miguel benched you to recuperate. You were all too happy to take a break, from him and Spider-Girling. Despite your complicated feelings for the man, he assigned a recently displaced Spider, Spider-Woman 1357, to pinch hit for you in your dimension while you healed up. It was the first time since you became a hero you had a day off with peace of mind.

Just as you started another episode, a tingle raced down your spine. Your spider-sense. Something was about to happen. Out of all the possibilities of what could have followed, a portal opening in your living room and Miguel walking through was the last thing you would’ve guessed. You leapt up from the sofa.

You instantly regretted your appearance - messy bun, no makeup, and ratty sweatpants. Miguel, as usual, looked immaculate in his skintight spider-suit.

“Hey.”

“Is this a booty call?”

“No.”

“Don’t bullshit me–”

“It’s not, I swear! Coño, I came to check on you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you could have messaged me on my gizmo. It’s your preferred method of communication after all, ever since the last time you were in my apartment.”

“May–”

Lyla appeared over his shoulder. “He missed you, that’s all.”

Miguel growled at his AI. “I’m going to sentence you to robot death via spreadsheets.”

Lyla wasn’t threatened in the slightest. “Thank me later.” She disappeared before Miguel could try and make another retort.

“You missed me?”

“No,” his denial was instant. “I just…I–”

“This is a booty call!” you crumpled up a napkin and chucked it at his large form. “Go home, Miguel!”

He didn’t budge. “It’s not a booty call. I…what are you watching?”

“The Realest Housewives of Manhattan. What, don’t judge me!”

Miguel couldn't keep his face straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Seeing his eyes crinkle with amusement was infectious. You threw another napkin ball at him and then composed yourself. He wasn’t getting off the hook this easily. “Why are you here? Be honest with me. It’s the very least I deserve.”

“I wanted to see the shocking expensive bed frame you expensed to HQ for myself.”

“You said I could and you didn't set a spending limit.” A wicked little grin pulled at the corners of your mouth. The bed frame from Restoration Hardware had been your own private form of revenge. “And I’m supposed to believe you wanting to see my bed – my bed that you broke–”

“Hey! We broke the bed–”

“--is not your thinly veiled excuse for seeking another roll in the hay? Enough with goddamn mind games Miguel.” He tried to speak but you pushed on, “I’m tired and this is the last thing I need.”

Miguel sobered. He hung his head. His mouth seemed to fight the words as they left his lips. “Alright, fine. I missed you.”

You ignored your heartbeat’s sharp increase and schooled your features to maintain a neutral appearance. “I have some extra Pad Thai if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

“So this may not be a booty call, but does anyone other than Lyla know you’re here?”

“No.”

You nodded. “Come. Sit. I just started the episode where Beverly throws her poodle a forty thousand dollar birthday party.”

“Nothing you said just now made sense,” Miguel protested, but took a seat on your couch anyway.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed!! Miguel has fully rotted my brain so I thought it only fair to share the horniness. Of course I have more imagined in this AU, fingers crossed I can find more time to write (comments and reblogs and likes help!)

Translations:

Mierda - Shit

cariño - dear

bebita - baby

Gracias a Dios - Thank God

Ven aquí - Come here

¡Coño! - Damnit!

¡No más – basta de esto! -No more, enough of this!

Hermosa - beautiful

Vamos, bebita - Come on, baby

Taglist: @plethora-of-imagines, @itdobe-liza @absolutelybloodyhopeless @ninebluehearts, @oscarissac2099

#miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfic #we're not here to f*ck spiders

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destinygoldenstar · 23 hours

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Ninjago Dragons Rising Season 2 - Is It Good Or Nah?

So, I'm late to the party, aren't I?

Well I've had so much work that I think I'm having an existential crisis. So I had to wait till I had a free day to watch this season because I wanted to watch it with my GF.

We got to Episode 6, and then what did my boss do?

Slap me in the face with long work hours several days of the week.

I feel like I'm in a spiral of work after work after work with no purpose to life besides failure cause I can't trust myself to be capable at anything-

ANYWAY. We finished it now.

You know what the insane part about the season is? That it got the show trending on Tumblr.

That's an INSANE level of hype right there.

So I seriously had to ask myself "What the actual f**k happened in the show that caused THIS much hype?!"

So... here are my thoughts on the season.

SPOILER WARNING

Okay, so this may be a factor of my judgement, but due to my schedule, I was forced to watch only 6 Episodes one day, and then the last 4 Episodes today. Keep that in mind.

When it came to the first half of the season, was it good?

Yes. Obviously.

Was it living up to the insane level of hype?

Uh... not really for me??

Now, don't take that as a negative. This season is still REALLY good.

After the first season took awhile to get started as it needed to set up its characters and this new world, it makes sense for this season to throw the punches immediately.

The season gets started with its main plot right away with Ras immediately putting his plan into action, and by Episode 2, it's very clear the threat level he opposes and it's believable that we should be intimidated by what he wants.

Even though in Episode 2's fight, while AMAZINGLY choreographed, I was just screaming at the screen "HIT THE PERSON HOLDING THE GONG."

Like seriously, more than one of the characters in this fight can use projectiles with their powers AND they have a blaster in the Bounty, and the show never says that Ras has some sort of armor defense preventing him from getting blasted. He's literally standing out in the open. And the gong is clearly what's giving Cinder power. So HIT THE PERSON WITH THE GONG.

GOSH.

Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that this season's fight choreo is genuinely AMAZING. I am obsessed with the way the camera moves with the characters in these fights you have no idea. I was genuinely blown away by the last episode's fight in particular. But more on the ending later.

What also shocked me was how BRUTAL some of the stuff that happens here is, which caught me off guard.

I mean, Episode 2 has Euphrasia getting ambushed and crashed off the Cloud Kingdom with clear injuries, and Wyldfyre getting her leg SHATTERED. Like, WHAT?! HOW OFTEN DOES THAT HAPPEN?!! (Even though the latter's healing was unrealistic. Like, it would realistically take months for an injury like that to heal. Not a critique, just saying.)

Ras body slams Jordanna at one point. He puts Arin in a CHOKEHOLD. And also beats him up so brutally... like OMG this guy does not mess around.

The Fear Cave Trial also REALLY got me tripping. Not only was it such a visually appealing moment, but it also, as the same suggests, showed several character psyches that were insane.

Except Kai for some reason. That's gonna drive me NUTS until I get an answer. WHAT DID HE SEE-?!

Then we get to the dragon mentors, and...

Yeah the season kinda loses me in the middle.

Don't get me wrong, I love the character bits here as much as anyone. But with how dyer they made the threat of Ras before, Ras and his forces take a backseat in the middle portion of the season and we're mostly just sitting at these training grounds talking. And for four episodes of it? It's a little grating, even if it is important.

The middle is mostly where most of my issues with the season stand. And here's where I get all my negatives out of the way:

Like I said, because this season is so long, there's an awkward pause in the conflict on the dragons plotline to learn this Rising Dragon Technique. Which I wouldn't mind if it wasn't FOUR EPISODES of it.

With the exception of the attack at the Land of Lost Things ONCE, Ras's army doesn't go after the ninja at all. I can kinda get the dragons group since they didn't have Bonzle, but he has to know that they ARE a threat, right? They're obviously trying to figure out how to stop you.

And even with the group that has Bonzle, what they NEED, the forces that go after that group is the Administration and the one off magician man villain, the former really didn't need to be in this season even if it was for a compelling Jay cameo, and the latter has overstayed his welcome at this point and I just rolled my eyes when he showed up on screen.

I'm all for Cole being a badass as much as the next guy, but WHY this magician man, who at this point, is so disconnected with the main antagonistic forces that he serves no purpose?

Why not, I don't know, use this screen time instead to explain what in the world happened with Cole when he left?

Seriously, the first season had this huge cliffhanger with Cole's character and him going after Wu's ghost. I wonder what's gonna happen to him and what he's gonna find out-

Oh. He's just back.

That to me is a huge disappointment. What was the point of him leaving the Lost Family in the first place if this journey was basically nothing? He doesn't even talk about it! COME ON NOW.

Also I think Zane should get slay pass on the Administration guy that called him equipment. What do y'all think?

I don't like Egot. Or whatever his name was. He's very condescending and cryptic and talks down to his only hope of the world being saved. But I think I'm supposed to dislike him for it, and there's gonna be more of his characterization revealed later, so don't take this one as a critique. The female one is great though.

The sorceress lady was... a choice in the narrative. My one critique for the ending was the potion shenanigans. Not because they were bad, but because they just felt so out of place among everything else. Like, "Oh, this finale is too dark and intense! We need to occasionally cut to wacky shenanigans with this sorceress's magic to prevent kids from feeling too much dread!"

I don't know, for me, I would've placed this stuff with the Administration instead, and instead have the group fight Jordanna, lose, and have her get away and flow that to Arin getting to her. Especially since the Administration posed such little threat to them and they even say such.

(I also have a theory that this sorceress is Wyldfyre's birth mom. I have no evidence to back this up besides "They both have red hair and similar facial structure")

With Cloud Kingdom getting taken over and Euphrasia captured, I thought she would have more of a role to play in this since this is, you know, her HOME and she's their guardian.

But nope. She does next to nothing up until the very end and plays prisoner and waits for the ninja to save her.

For gosh sake girl, you're the master of wind. FLY.

And finally, my last critique, Cinder.

Yeah I'm sorry, I'm not buying this character so far. Not that I don't think he'll have anything to do in the second part, but for how threatening he was in Episode 2, that threat level kinda vanishes in the middle and only comes back at the end. He does next to nothing and we learn nothing about him other than "He likes power". Jordanna is probably more unlikeable, but at least she has conflict going on with Ras and her magic, and she still serves more of a role in the plan besides being a foot soldier.

And... yep. That's all my critiques for this season. Which all seem pretty minor.

You know what this season is real good at? Characters.

As though that wasn't obvious already.

I did NOT expect Bonzle to play any major role at all, I thought she was just gonna be the dry and cynical side character. But no. She has a history. She has a life. She has emotions. All of which REALLY shine through at the end when you hear her voice have more range in it. The VA killed it. I ended up feeling so bad for her.

Especially considering what happens to her.

They're also not even hiding it anymore with Geo x Cole. They're just NOT. I love them and I hope we see more of their relationship in the future.

I genuinely don't understand the critique of "Geo is so selfish referring to him as Cole's family when it's obvious Cole has other people in his life."

Well no shit, you ever heard of a character flaw?

But it's also a completely understandable flaw. You guys aren't forgetting the part where Geo was abandoned for being a mixed race, right? Of course he's gonna cling to someone as compassionate and encouraging as Cole.

The Jay cameo was nice. I expect him to play no role in this season, but it's really compelling what they showed and I was satisfied with it.

Lloyd's conflict was handled very well in my opinion.

What's it called when it's PTSD, but it's about future events rather than past events? Foresight Traumatic Stress Disorder? FTSD? Yeah let's go with that.

For a kids show that glosses over trauma, (That's not a Ninjago problem, that's a kids show problem), it was really refreshing for them to not do that for once. It's actually explored and talked about and Lloyd is given advice on how to cope with it, and he freezes up in panic attacks when these visions happen and-THANK YOU. THANK YOU FOR NOT IGNORING HOW HARD SOMETHING LIKE THIS IS.

Seriously, as someone who is going through stuff like this, minus the magic element, it spoke to me a lot. It really shows that this show grew up with me, and I both love and hate that.

I do think this sort of arc is going to hit hard for adults much more than kids.

Are kids constantly terrified of the future and getting paralyzed with these fears and finding it difficult to cope with the traumas that is time and human life?

No?

Kai is also a standout in this, especially towards the end. This is by far the best Kai has been in a long time in terms of quality. I love how one of his most significant flaws gets addressed here, that being his overreliance on himself and his own abilities over the others, who he feels responsible to protect.

And the way he grasps with that and learns to let loose like he did as a child back in the old days through what he loves the most, that being his family. And the flashbacks with him and his sister. And the whole sequence of him learning Rising Dragon - AUGH ITS SO GOOD.

How poetic is it that the character most devoted to family since childhood is only cocky and angry because of his own desire to be the one with power to keep them safe, gets power by letting that go, being a kid again, and joining the same roots as his own family?

AND THEN HE GIVES UP HIS LIFE FOR THEM-

And finally, Arin.

Oh you poor sweet, sweet child.

First of all, yes, I am completely subscribed to the theory that the show is building up Arin turning on the ninja and becoming a villain. It's all there. It all fits. The amount of times they say how sweet he is as though that's gonna get lost. The dragons, the creators of the world, the gods basically, telling him he's not good enough. Ras confronting him. Sora's stunt even after she's been the most encouraging of him, like the BETRAYAL there. It's all there. And I will be posting my theory scenario on this don't you worry.

BUT, I don't think that's the route they're gonna go. Kids show and all of that. They wouldn't do that to one of their main characters. Unless you're Star Wars. At most I think Arin will be tempted by Ras's master's power in an episode and even do it, but then with the power of love and friendship, it'll get fixed.

So instead I'd rather say that Arin, by far, has the BEST power crisis arc of the entire show so far.

I LOVE that he doesn't get powers. That's something the original show would've done. I LOVE that he doesn't figure anything out in the end and his inner doubts get proven correct. That's something the original show would not have the guts to do.

I liked Arin in the first season, but he didn't interest me too much. Mostly because Sora had the lion share of focus in the first season. Here though? He might just take the crown for THE most relatable character. And I both love and hate it so much.

Like, seeing everyone else succeed in mastery while you can't even figure out your own thing. You get told you have a natural talent and a lot of potential and that you're good at a lot of things, only for that to be put to the test in the real world and you end up letting everyone down. Even when your loved ones encourage you that you are good enough and you're special in your own way, you can't get those voices out of your head and you mess up again and again and again to try and meet the world's expectations. Then those in charge tell you you're not good enough and wasted potential. Then you try everything out in the real world anyway and you FAIL, and those that doubt you and your own insecurities get proven correct as you're left a broken mess of a young child who doesn't know what the hell they're doing-

I'M IN THIS SHOW AND I DON'T LIKE IT.

I probably love Sora more as a character, but I will admit I grasp towards Arin more right now. Sora's a great trans allegory in a world that hates trans people. But I'm not trans so I relate to it a bit less. Arin's a great autistic allegory in a world that doesn't know how to help autistic people. And I am autistic so I relate to it more. That's just a me situation.

I am so invested in where Arin's story goes from here. Evil or not.

So yeah, the season was good, but didn't completely live up to the insane hype, which, to be fair, is a high bar.

UNTIL THE LAST FOUR EPISODES.

And then all of a sudden, I AM SHOCKED AND SHAKEN TO MY CORE.

These last four episodes are an absolute emotional roller coaster that left me shaking and screaming the whole time.

I actually SCREAMED at multiple occasions.

I actually screamed so many times watching this that I am now HOARSE.

THAT'S how hard it hit me.

The story goes from 0 to 100 the moment the Blood Moon shows up. Which was what the whole season was building up to. And it did NOT disappoint.

The race to try and protect Bonzle. The intense visions and paralysis Lloyd suffers from. Ras and the army coming back to the plot to be absolute powerhouses. The last episode of DREAD the entire time to desperately try to stop this ritual.

HUMAN SACRIFICES?! AM I WATCHING A KIDS SHOW RIGHT NOW?!?!

I was begging for Arin to succeed at getting Bonzle to safety, even though I knew he stood no chance against Ras. "Come on Arin! You got this!! YOU GOT THIS, SWEETIE!!"

And then Ras just goes to TOWN on the poor boy and taunts his utter failure, which HURTS SO BAD MAN.

The entire fight with the army, Cinder, and Ras. The destruction of the mechs which knocks them unconscious for a bit. Kai figuring out Rising Dragon again when his family gets put in danger. The way Nya avenges her brother afterwards.

When Bonzle was getting morphed back into spell form, BEGGING, I was begging too.

But they still do it!

And KAI?!?!

I couldn't even process what happened other than me screaming. From the moment Ras alluded to sacrificing Kai against his consent, I was screaming "NO. DON'T DO IT."

AND THEN THEY SACRIFICE HIM.

LIKE HOLY GOSH THIS FINALE DID NOT MESS AROUND.

I predicted a while back, in the first season actually, that Kai was gonna get sacrificed at some point. Who's laughing now? I DID NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT.

Like, usually in Ninjago the character would be willing to sacrifice themselves for the others. But here? This is without Kai's consent at all. Ras might as well have killed him right here.

It definitely felt that way with the way the others react and BEG for his safety. The way Nya avenges him.

And Kai giving up his shot at escape for the sake of his family? BRO. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

It hurts even more when you realize that when the Merge happened, Lloyd was ALONE thinking only he survived. He only gained hope again because of his reunion with Kai. His beloved surrogate brother!

AND NOW HE'S GONE.

NYA AND LLOYD LOST THEIR BROTHER.

WYLDFYRE LOST HER SURROGATE FATHER.

THEY THINK HE'S BASICALLY DEAD.

BRO. THAT'S SOUL CRUSHING.

And then Sora?! Why you gotta betray Arin like that?!

The most encouraging friend towards Arin, the person who held onto hope and praises for him the most, betrays that hope and doesn't trust him enough to get the winning blow himself. Then LIES about it.

GIRL. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

That's going to be SO compelling once that gets outed. Like, morally, that was messed up and she was definitely in the wrong, BUT it led to the best possible outcome for them at the moment. They WON because she did NOT believe in Arin's abilities. Which only proves that the doubts about Arin's said abilities are correct.

And I have a gut feeling she's gonna learn Spinjitsu on top of that. And once that happens... double ouch.

Again, Evil Arin Theory.

I really hate to say it, but this reminds way too much of Arcane. If you know what I'm talking about.

I am totally imagining a situation similar to that in my head, that being a rescue mission for Kai, they decide to leave Arin out of it because of the lack of faith in him, he tags along anyway and he ruins their plan and Kai stays trapped there, Lloyd and Sora lash out on him for it, and before they can apologize they get thrusted back by something and Ras and Ras's master find Arin and take him in-

Again, I'll make a post about that.

The finale was by far the best part of this season. It has been a long time since Ninjago has made me HOARSE from being too invested.

That has not happened to me since Sons of Garmadon.

Because, yeah, I actually have NO IDEA where any of this is headed. How are they gonna save Kai and Bonzle? Why did some of Lloyd's visions not come true? What in the world is going on with Ras? Will the Administration help with that? Will the source dragons help with that?

What I probably do know is that Part 2 of this season is going to turn this into the best Ninjago Product since Tournament of Elements. Maybe even top it depending on my rewatches if my problems are still problems.

So... yeah. Good or Nah? Good. Obviously.

The hype is a little overblown to me, but it still deserves the hype.

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brookbee · 5 months

Text

David Bowie performing the song "Station to Station," 1978

#we're not gonna talk about how long this took #i wanted to try and capture the vibe of the song hopefully it comes across good lol #david bowie #bowieposting #my gifs #station to station #isolar ii #berlin era #70s music #rock n roll

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foreveranevilregal · 2 years

Note

Prompt 50: “People are staring.”

Pepa and Felix!

Of course them, who else! I kinda hijacked this to write a "strangers meeting in a bar" roleplay idea that I've been tinkering with since May because of course those two are freaky. Loosely inspired by a song that makes me absolutely feral and has Félix/Pepa written all over it.

Modern AU, and steamy, obviously.

Pepa sat at the bar, idly stirring her drink. She had come out with Julieta, hoping to have a girls’ night out, but after about an hour, an urgent injury cut their evening short. Julieta had practically run out of the bar, pouring out apologies and promising Pepa that next week would be different. Which was what she said every week…

Now Pepa sat alone, nursing her drink, and observing the crowd of people. The dance floor was full, and the music was lively, but she didn’t really feel like joining in. Not by herself, anyway. She missed Félix. Where was he…

Her lips curved into a smile as she spotted him at the other side of the bar. He had gone out with Agustín and Bruno for a boys’ night, and, she noted with a trace of displeasure, their night seemed to be going much better than hers. Not that she begrudged her husband some fun with his brothers-in-law, but she was sitting all by herself, all dressed up, and yet no one was paying attention to her. It didn’t seem right. Félix could bond with the guys another time. Right now, she needed her husband.

She caught his eye, smiling at him flirtatiously. Surely he wouldn’t want his wife to suffer all by herself, abandoned by her sister and now languishing all alone at the bar. Pulling out her phone, she tapped out a quick text. I miss you.

He didn’t reply immediately. While she waited, she scrolled through the camera roll on her phone. Under the many, many photos of their children, there was a folder containing some more…risqué material of her and Félix. Her cheeks flushed as she looked through the photos they had taken, both together and apart. They didn’t help her plight in the slightest.

Deciding she was done with waiting for a reply, she texted him, Come here. I need you. For good measure, she sent along a photo of herself. A “thirst trap”, she thought the kids call it.

That got a reaction out of him. Checking to see that Bruno and Agustín were distracted, he typed his reply. You need me, huh?

No sooner had she gotten the text than she replied. Sí. I’m over here suffering all by myself, and you’re having fun over there. I need mi esposo to come take care of me.

Take care of you how?

Oh, he was enjoying this. Pepa frowned, concentrating as she typed. You know how. If you’re so interested in playing games, I should get to pick, since I’m the one dying of boredom.

She swore she could see him gulp. What game do you want to play?

You know which one.

Much to her pleasure, he turned to Agustín and Bruno, probably giving some sort of lackluster explanation as to why he had to go, then meandered over to where she was sitting. Of course, he didn’t go right up to her and talk to her right away. That wasn’t how this game worked.

She sat patiently, stirring her drink and swinging her legs as she waited for him to approach her.

But he was going to play the game properly, she noted with satisfaction. He would glance over at her, then as soon as she met his eye, look away. This went on for a few minutes until she saw him talking to the bartender, pointing her out.

The bartender stifled a smirk and, to his credit, merely nodded. He had worked there long enough to know what Félix and Pepa were like. He set out mixing up a cocktail, identical to the one Pepa had almost emptied by this time.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Oh, he was really going all out.

Soon, a tall glass was placed in front of her. “Tequila sunrise,” announced the bartender. “Compliments of the gentleman sitting at the end of the bar.” Somehow, he managed to maintain a semblance of professionalism and not roll his eyes at the antics of one of the town’s most well-known couples.

“Give him my thanks.” Pepa took a dainty sip from the drink, casting Félix a sidelong glance. She waved at him coyly, signaling him to approach her.

He took his sweet time, sauntering over suavely, stopping to greet a few people on the way.

Irritation bubbled up in Pepa. How dare he keep her waiting like that? A part of her knew she was being irrational, but a bigger part of her wished he’d just get on with it already.

Finally, he reached where she was sitting and leaned against the bar. He was just tall enough to be able to rest an elbow on the bar and lean on it while standing. To her surprise, he didn’t speak to her yet, apparently content to merely observe her.

The intense attention was beginning to make Pepa squirm. She swallowed hard, finally addressing him. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Félix shifted the position of his elbow, angling his body closer to Pepa. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, hermosa. It’s just that…” He paused, glancing down at his arm suddenly. “You are so beautiful that this must be a dream. Pinch me.” He punctuated the comment with a small pinch on his forearm, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “Am I dreaming, amor? Or are you just a dream come true?”

As cheesy as it was, he had broken the ice. Pepa snorted through her nose. “Oh, come on. Has that line ever worked on anyone?”

Félix shrugged, a casual smile playing on his lips. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.” He mimed locking his lips and throwing the key over his shoulder.

Pepa suppressed a giggle. He was really playing up the Casanova bit. She loved seeing his confidence, but she was going to make him work a little harder. “Is that so?” She asked disinterestedly, chasing down the last dregs of her first drink before moving onto to her second.

He didn’t take her bait, instead raking his eyes up and down over her body. She wore a sinfully red slinky dress that hugged and accentuated her curves. A small gulp traveled down his throat as he continued drinking her in through hooded eyes.

She allowed him to ogle her for a few minutes, basking in the attention. She knew that she looked good. It felt nice to be appreciated, even if he was blatantly objectifying her. A quarter of the second drink had followed the first. “Are you just going to stand there and undress me with your eyes?” Her tone was flat, almost bored, but tinged with curiosity.

Félix shot her his winning grin, dazzling her with a mouthful of pearly whites. “Well, I’d much rather undress you with my hands,” he said conversationally. “Unfortunately, we’re in public.”

Leave it to him to be direct. Feeling her skin start to heat up, Pepa decided to have a little more fun with him and see just how far he would take his act. She raised her left hand in front of her, wiggling her fingers to make the light glint off her wedding ring. “I have a husband.”

“Do you?” He replied nonchalantly, as if she’d merely informed him that she had a cat. His hand curved over her thigh. “Does he take care of you?”

Trying to stave off the hitch in her breath that his touch always brought, Pepa gave a noncommittal shrug. “I haven’t kicked him out yet.”

Félix laughed. “Feisty, I like that.” He gestured to her drink. “I see you’re enjoying your drink.”

Pepa drew a long sip through her straw. “Yes, thank you.” Tequila burned all the way down her throat. The bartender had made this one stronger. She’d have to thank him too at some point…

“Although I have to say, you don’t really strike me as the tequila sunrise type.”

Pepa arched an eyebrow delicately. “Oh no?”

Félix shook his head. “You seem much more like a hurricane.”

The double entendre was not lost on her. Her mouth fell open in outrage. How dare he? Clear skies, clear skies…“I don’t know why I’m still talking to you when I have a wonderful husband. One who’s kind and doesn’t push my buttons,” she fumed, fixing him with a pointed look. She breathed, trying to calm the small gust of wind that had sprung up around them.

Félix took the display in stride, finally removing the hand that was burning a hole in Pepa’s thigh. “Well then maybe you should go be with that husband of yours. But I can offer you a night you’ll never forget.”

“Can you?”

His hand came to rest on her arm, far more gently than before. “I can make you feel pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Touch you in ways that’ll light all your nerve endings on fire.” He leaned closer to her ear, lowering his voice. “I can fuck you until you leave claw marks down my back from sheer ecstasy. Until you feel like you can’t take it anymore and beg me for mercy. Until the only thing left in your head is the name you’ll be screaming until your voice gives out.” He pulled back, smirking smugly. “Can your husband do that?”

His words had the desired effect. Pepa felt lightheaded. Her goading had shown he was fully committed to the act, which was…exhilarating. Her entire body felt like it was burning up. She exhaled shallowly, trying to collect herself. “He’d better.”

Félix chuckled softly. He moved closer to her, invading her space. “So what’ll it be?”

Pepa instinctively leaned back, leaving him standing above her. His mere presence affected her more strongly than any aphrodisiac. He was so close that she was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her core. For that matter, everyone else could probably tell too. The humidity in the courtyard around them had ratcheted up significantly.

A few heads had turned in their direction, tilting curiously, people no doubt having noticed the change in weather.

“People are staring,” Pepa whispered, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

Félix’s reply was perfectly calm. “Let them.”

The alcohol was starting to hit Pepa. She felt buzzed, unsure how much of the fire coursing through her veins could be attributed to the drinks and how much to her ever-increasing desire. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she considered her next move. She crossed her legs, trying to calm her heartrate. If the ruined scrap of fabric between her legs was anything to go by, staying was no longer an option.

Félix’s fingertips began dancing up her arm, sending up shivers in their wake and jarring her from her alcohol induced stupor.

He wanted them to go. She wanted them to go. What were they waiting for?

Having finally decided, she slung her purse over her shoulder and craned over to his ear to whisper, “Let’s go.”

They stumbled home sloppily, Pepa draped almost entirely over Félix. Those drinks really had been strong… Somehow, they’d managed the locks and made their way up the stairs into their bedroom.

After clicking their own lock into place, Félix turned to face Pepa, who was still standing by the door.

Her chest heaved with anticipation as he stalked over to her. “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he informed her, backing her into the wall with a quiet thud.

Pepa’s eyes blazed into his. With surprising boldness for someone whose hands were currently being pinned above her head, she shook her head. “No more talking. You did enough of that earlier.”

“You didn’t like my flirting?” Félix joked, feigning hurt.

“There are..” She was starting to feel dizzy. Was his thigh pressing into her? Or is that just what she desperately wanted to happen? “Better uses for your mouth…” she panted out deliriously.

He stared at her, her silhouette illuminated solely by the moonlight streaming in through the window. They hadn’t bothered with the lights, not in the mood to deal with switches. Finally, he acquiesced. “As you wish, mi vida.”

Before she could even process his response, he swooped over her and covered her lips with his own. She sighed her relief, allowing his tongue entrance. He had a silver tongue in more ways than one…

Soft little whimpers escaped her lips as he ravaged her. His hand had dropped her arms to undo the zipper of her dress. It was a delicate thing that was far too easy to break. He’d better not break it.

Her eyes flashed him a warning and she used her newly freed hands to swat away his fingers, fiddling with the stupid zipper until she’d gotten it worked most of the way down, when she encountered resistance. Surprised, she looked over to see Félix blocking her side with his hand.

Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, he crouched down and used his teeth to pull the zipper down the rest of the way.

Pepa rolled her eyes. Showoff. But his display reminded her that there were better uses for those too. Impatiently, she shoved the dress off unceremoniously, letting it pool around her feet. She raised an eyebrow towards him questioningly. Well?

She didn’t have to wait long for her answer. Large hands had come up to cover her breasts, kneading them roughly over the satin of her bra before ridding themselves of the obstacle. His lips attached to the column of her neck, licking off the sweat that had accumulated before sucking in the skin and leaving little nips. Meanwhile, his hands continued to work her breasts, eliciting the most exquisite noises from her.

Pepa rubbed her thighs together, seeking friction to alleviate her ever growing frustration. While she appreciated his thoroughness as a lover, she wished he would just hurry up already. He’d mentioned something earlier about making her scream, and she really wanted to get to that part before she died of old age.

Ever perceptive, he inserted his leg between her own to stop her motions. His eyes widened as he was met with sodden fabric, her arousal no doubt seeping out onto his pants. Apparently deciding that he had done enough teasing, he scooped her effortlessly in his arms, depositing her onto the bed the same way he had done when they were newlyweds.

Pepa scooted up the bed, trying not to pay too much attention to the insistent throbbing that would have to be addressed. Her head came to rest on the pillow, cradled by it softly. There was something in the moments he showed his strength that really riled her up. When he picked her up like that, she felt small, fragile, like she could break at any moment, yet she knew he wouldn’t let her. He would always make sure she was whole. The thought made her stomach flutter.

Félix crawled over the mattress, causing it to dip. At some point, he had divested himself of his clothing, so skin rubbed against skin unencumbered. His eyes threatened to devour Pepa. His hot breath fell on her chest as his eyes bored into hers.

The anticipation was killing her. She had spent the entire night worked up and was more than ready to be satisfied. Had the sheets always been so cool, or was her skin just that overheated? See? She was burning up with desire. He would have to tend to the flame. Suddenly, she yanked his head down towards her own and kissed him harshly.

The spell had broken. That thin, tenuous bubble keeping them apart had burst as they crashed into each other. They kissed fervently, drawing ragged breaths from shared air, hands roaming freely over their exposed skin. The ruined scrap of fabric that had formerly been underwear was flung somewhere across the room. Neither one of them particularly cared where it had landed.

Not now. Not when they were on the precipice of sating their hunger. Satisfying their need to consume and be consumed by the other.

She was so wet that he slid in easily. She probably would have screamed then, but she was having a hard time catching her breath. The air weighed down on them oppressively, humid and sticky. All she could do was pant desperately for breath and grasp at the sheets as her wonderful husband pounded her into the mattress.

His brows furrowed in concentration and he grunted as he bore down on her. This was no longer the sweet, thoughtful Félix who had escorted her home. Oh no. In his place was someone ferocious, chasing his own pleasure relentlessly.

His pace was brutal. Pepa held on for dear life: feet hooked around his sides, nails leaving the most honest love letters on his back. True to his word, he did make her scream. Again. And again. And again.

At long last, they collapsed, exhausted. They had lost count of how many rounds they had gone. It was all they could do to lie there, boneless and utterly satisfied. Pepa wanted to take a second to collect herself when Félix spoke up.

“So? Did I do it?”

Pepa turned to look at him. “Do what?”

“You know…” he trailed off flirtatiously, “what I promised I’d do in the bar.”

Of course he would be smug about it. “I don’t know…” Pepa’s fingertips traced lightly over the gashes she had left in his back, making him wince. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’d say so.” He inhaled sharply. “Ay, that stings.”

“Pobrecito…” Pepa cooed. “Maybe you shouldn’t have made such big promises then.”

“You love my big promises,” he pointed out.

“I do.” She pecked his lips sweetly. “I’ll get you some of Julieta’s food in the morning before you head down.”

“Mi esposa takes such good care of me.” He beamed at her in the semidarkness.

“Because mi esposo takes such good care of me.” Pepa maneuvered herself closer to his body. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Of course, mi vida.” His arm draped over her middle like a blanket. “Anything you need.”

She hummed contentedly as she drifted off, right next to her husband.

#pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #pepa x felix #felix x pepa #feliepa #asks #anonymous #foreveranevilregal writes #writing answered prompts #writing encanto #writing feliepa #modern au #strangers in a bar #we're not gonna talk about how long this took #the important thing is i finished it #something something the importance of perseverance #hope it was worth the wait #i'll post the song when i put this up on ao3 #it's only here for the vibe

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aestheticslyrics · 7 months

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august // taylor swift

#taylor swift #august #folklore #taylor swift lyrics #aestheticslyrics #lyric aesthetics #aesthetics #lyrics #songs i like #we're not gonna talk about how long it took me to decide how big i wanted the font ok we're just not #to live for the hope of it all

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kyriey · 8 months

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lil gidget comic under the cut for the OW fanwork contesttttt

i swear to god if tumblr kills the quality. ive never posted an image this... long... so rn it looks kinda pixel-y. but it looked normal before????? I'm a little dumb but its okay

#owfanworkcontest #our wonderland #our wonderland gidget #our wonderland iggy #this took two days #and we're not gonna talk about how long it took me to come up with an idea lol

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blackbirdffxiv · 9 months

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𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 ℝ𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖

#ffxiv gpose #ffxiv hyur #ffxiv highlander #ffxiv oc #ffxivsnaps #ff14 gpose #final fantasy gpose #ffxiv screenshots #gpose #I'm sorry for all the tags I'm literally just throwing on what tumblr recommends asxhcnscaixmvu #Also we're not gonna talk about how long these took me #Especially because these aren't even edited - this is all crimes + reshade #Cuz sometimes you don't need fancy editing to make a great picture #Also these horns are just *chef kiss*

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bambiraptorx · 6 months

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The third and final part of my series on yokai medicine. Parts one and two covered standard chemical medications and mystic medicine, leaving one final option: spells cast directly on a person.

Since there is no chemical component interacting with the body when a spell is used, there is much less risk of dependence or addiction. However, they are also extremely complex and usually have to be tailored to the individual for full effectiveness, so they are only used in cases where medication is needed long-term, like in cases of chronic pain/illness. Casting this kind of spell is also usually outside the range of expertise of the average yokai, so they have to go to a trained healer in order to get this kind of spell cast for them. Spells are something of a last resort because of this.

There is one major issue with spells: the complexity needed to effectively tailor treatment to an individual so that the spell does what they need it to do can make it difficult to predict how long a spell will actually last. Sure, you could cast a spell on a patient to reduce their chronic back pain for a month, but you have no idea if the spell will actually last that whole month or not, and when spells stop working, they stop working fast. Many people don't want to go through the process of living relatively pain-free for three or four weeks, then getting hit with the full force of their pain with no warning. Yes, spells can be tweaked to avoid this, but it's a time-consuming process of troubleshooting that can take months or years to get right.

There's also the issue that, if a person does decide to cast the spell themselves, it usually drains their mystic energy reserves substantially. And if they don't know what they're doing, they might not notice until their energy levels become dangerously low. Yes, spells can be cast in a way to shut themselves off before they take too much energy, but increasing the complexity like that means that the spell will need even more energy to maintain itself. The average yokai simply isn't capable of casting a spell that powerful and having it last more than a few days, and for many people that just isn't worth it, especially if they already have chronic health issues.

#rottmnt #minor interference au #minor interference lore #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #we're uh. we're not gonna talk about how long this post sat in my drafts because i forgot about it #anyway i have now completed this series of posts and it only took over a month lmao #i'm gonna go reblog the other parts real quick actually

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cakemoney · 2 years

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thinking about the whole robpat!batman movie’s thesis being “shit. fuck. turns out this whole time the legacy of my rage and vengeance-fueled vigilante justice has been enabling domestic terrorism by entitled white men. all along what this city needed and what i needed was healing and extending our hands to our neighbors instead of continuing the cycle of trauma and violence” like the movie put their whole chest into that. it looked at their audience and said to their face “you guys never actually understood what batman is about. you saw the dark brooding aesthetic and the toxic masculinity and the individualistic lonewolfism and you see that as something to aspire to, when the point of batman was always Corruption And Evil Exists Within Those With Power And Money Not In Mental Illness, and by missing that and making it all about yourself you became the villain of this story.” in theaters right in front of batman stans. no wonder robpat was cast for this like i’ve never seen someone pull off self-loathing white man so naturally

#laughs awkwardly #sorry i watched black adam recently (long story) and like. i can't help but feel like the subversive parts of it #just weren't as strong as how it felt to watch a batman movie where batman had to beat the crap of his own fans #like [SPOILERS] black adam wanted to be self-aware about superhero films and wanted to point out the american propaganda #inherent to the concept of 'international justice' but because it was primarily pulled off through funny quips it felt like it didn't COMMIT #(felt very marvel in that respect actually)#like yes your main character told off the western superheroes for the hypocrisy of their 'peace' efforts but then... what?#in the end the westerners were still the genuine and helpful people they claimed they were. the main characters had to trust them to survive #in the end the self-actualization of an oppressed people felt hollow because we barely spent any time with them during the story #in the end the people's chosen hero turned out to be not who they thought he was and his character turning point to become a hero was...#he magically knew to break out of an underwater prison? honestly that part was a little confusing to me but extremely horrifying #like this guy basically explicitly said 'you should kill me. that's what i want' AND THEY JUST DID NOT DO THAT #like obviously i know he needed to come back since the movie was about him but like. damn. way to not at all respect his autonomy #he said 'i should die' and they went 'haha but instead we're gonna put you in storage forever so you never reunite with your family in death #HORROR. THE MOST DYSTOPIAN SHIT I'VE EVER SEEN. YOUR BODY IS NOT YOUR OWN IN CASE WE FIND IT USEFUL LATER #WE'RE SO PEACEFUL THAT WE CAN NEVER ACCEPT [GASP] MURDER BUT ANY OTHER VIOLATION OF YOUR CONSENT IS FINE #HOW WAS THIS BRUSHED OVER SO CASUALLY #WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT BEFORE #yeah you know what i don't really know where i was going with this either. i just had Thoughts #like did i think the rob!patman the movie took itself so seriously it was accidentally kind of comedic? yeah for sure #but because they took it seriously it felt like the element of metacommentary was sincere. like i can also take it seriously #i keep thinking about that scene where rpatz was interrogating the riddler and the horror that dawns on him #because he's looking at this man who idolizes batman but despises bruce wayne and realizes Oh God That's Me. This Is What I Created #like shit dude i don't think superhero films necessarily should or must be Deep in an Artistic way but i can give them props for trying?

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polzkadotz · 2 years

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You Know I Get It™

(made with 15.ai)

#all for the game #aftg #video #15.ai #we're not gonna talk about how long it took me to make this :3 #neil josten #cursed content from yours truly

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atherix · 1 year

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Atherix, with writing that good I am convinced that if you could turn The Midnight Series into an actual book series.

Maybe you'd have to change a couple names (I'm sure many people would find some of the names strange)

But otherwise I don't see how this cant compare to Harry Potter

(I never read the Harry Potter books but if they are written as good as people make them sound than The Midnight Series must be a good comparison)

Me everytime you update:

(With love ❤❤❤)

JKHGSKJHGSKFSJK <3<3 I think I would have to change the format it's written in as well but jfdskkds it warms my heart you think so <3 Thank you so much <3

I do have a book in the works, funnily enough! I haven't talked about it here, tbh I don't think I've talked about it to anyone. I'm still in the outlining/planning stage. It's nothing like Midnight, but I hope my characterization and writing is as strong as it is in Midnight and resonates with someone out there <3 As for Midnight, I have no plans to turn it into a book- the way I've written Midnight feels more episodic than anything, but I really really appreciate that you feel this way hjfgjkdk <3

(I have Opinions™ about the writing in Harry Potter but that's neither here nor there, but thank you so much hjfdjkfdk <3)

#Ask #Midnight Series #HJGSJKFHSKJS <3<3<3 #This made me smile so much thank you <3 #I love that people enjoy my writing this much <3 #Fun fact but I would LOVE to publish a book #it's my dream (alongside writing a cartoon but you know)#but it's taken me so long to get it planned hjfdkjfd #I have my characters and I have my plot. I know how the magic works and I know the story. Putting it together I am struggling jhfsjk #we're not gonna talk about how I pumped out a 250k fic in 3-4 months #or another 30k fic in 5 days #idk why but a book feels more complicated than a fic??? even though I basically took HC/3L and turned it into an original project #but that's neither here nor there #psychology why </3

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green-eyes-and-orange-ties · 1 year

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Life is coloured by what you love...

I am currently loving Veil Light vibes and fully intend to make it everyone else's problem

#I mean I could just make a playlist and not relate it to #Night shift podcast #I'm not gonna #but I could #night shift playlist #The mid point gets a lil darker #But I stand by it #you can go chaos mode and shuffle #but fair warning there will be some jarring songs #idk if the link will update as i change the order ...#Spotify #EDIT TAG: I've stopped messing with the order #and i tried to get it so that the playlist loops smoothly #in case you just want perpetual veil vibes #(we're not talking about how long this took)

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heartfclt · 1 year

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*SHOW ME A HERO.

*NAME: Samson “Sonny” Caine *AGE: 32 *OCCUPATION: Activist / Owner of One Man’s Trash *AFFILIATION: Jolly Rogers ( somewhat reluctantly ) *PINTEREST: here !!

»»» graffiti on a brick wall that gets passed by daily, with only the sharpest of eyes noticing how it grows and changes over time; a cat with limbs outstretched, basking in their favorite spot in the sun; fresh-cut flowers wrapped in parchment paper; the desperate belief in angel numbers as signs from above; the loving way a parent blows on their child’s hot food; small gifts given ‘just because’; a candle used to the very bottom of the wick, yet curiously kept; silent tears of glitter and pearl; the quiet spark of revolution; a hero for hire.

BASICS, HISTORY, & EXTRAS UNDER THE CUT !!

( sonny is one of my bbs carried over from s1 of LF, so if some of this seems familiar ... that’s why! <333 )

*BASICS.

NAME: Samson Bodhi Acharya Caine

NICKNAMES: Sonny, Robin Hood

AGE: 32

D.O.B.: tbd ( but getting water / air sign vibes )

GENDER / PRONOUNS: Genderqueer / he & they

BIRTHPLACE: tbd

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Whitechapel, London

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English, Gujarati, conversational French, basic Tagalog

AFFILIATION: Jolly Rogers

OCCUPATION: Owner of One’s Man Trash, political activist

EDUCATION: B.A. in Social Sciences & M.A. in Politics & Contemporary History ( King’s College )

SEXUALITY: pansexual panromantic af

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: heh

CHILDREN: None, aside from his plants and his cat

POSITIVE TRAITS: affable, congenial, compassionate, engaging, just

NEUTRAL TRAITS: curious, tender-hearted, subversive, unassuming

NEGATIVE TRAITS: credulous, duplicitous, indecisive, self-deprecating

CHARACTER INSPS: Matt Murdock / Daredevil, Robin Hood, Orpheus, Frodo Baggins, Dominic Carisi, Freddie McClair

*HISTORY.

Sonny, born Samson Bodhi Acharya-Caine, was destined for greatness if greatness alone could be determined by one’s namesake. Given the names of two male predecessors upon birth, the men in question were Samson Caine, his paternal grandfather and the original proprietor of the once-celebrated vintage shop now affectionately called One Man’s Trash; and Bodhi Acharya, his mother’s beloved brother and famed political activist in their native Gujarat. Although the names were meant as honorifics, they instead became a seeming predetermination of Samson’s present-day fate, resulting in a young man resigned to living in the in-betweens of life.

Through his father’s work as a businessman and his mother’s as a political interpreter, Samson’s youth was filled with travel, art, and culture, and he grew up idolizing both parents in equal, heartfelt measure. Perhaps it was a side effect of the scenery, but during those blissful formative years, the boy was happily committed to following in his parents’ footsteps and quickly learned the interconnected value of business, politics, and interpersonal relationships. It all came naturally, really. He was charismatic, affable, and forward-thinking with an innate sense of justice, and though it was tempting to turn sullen when his parents announced their separation and later divorced, he soon found a new reason to remain sunny: his newborn half-sister, the light of his life — and the very person who christened him with his favored nickname after attempts to teach it to her went delightfully wrong.

The next two decades saw him grow further into the smart, compassionate boy he’d always been. He graduated secondary school top of his class, and was the recipient of a full ride to King’s College which later landed him a job on the staff of a promising young politician. However, government lost its lustre once one awoke to the reality of how dirty it could get, and after enough scandals wracked the politician he poured his heart, soul, and work into, Samson ( as he’d elected to be called then ) resigned from the job, name inextricably linked to a series of failures and falsehoods.

He’d always had the heart of a martyr, willing to take the blows if it meant the betterment of others — but this time, it simply seemed impossible to get back into the ring. In the aftermath of the scandals, his name was spoken in hushed whispers within the political realm, always attached to another’s sins, and with every denied application for a low-level role within government or rejection to work some hotshot kid’s political campaign, his martyrdom cemented itself as he resigned from politics altogether.

The sacrifice came at a fortuitous, though undeniably tenuous, time, what with his father’s ailing health resulting in the struggling family business the man had reluctantly taken over just a few years prior. Sonny, ever the altruist, already had one foot in the door even before his father revealed why the business was important: One Man’s Trash, once a charming vintage shop by a more appealing name, had fallen into the hands of the Jolly Rogers — or, more accurately, his father had, reeling from a few bad investments that put his children’s financial future in jeopardy. After all, one child was lost in the woods of life while the other had just taken her fledgling steps in a career filled with no shortage of risks and instability.

Sonny, no longer wanting to cause his family worry, and unwilling to put his sister at risk, agreed to take on the ownership and management of One Man’s Trash, and has ever since been a member of the Jolly Rogers. Four years later, and he transformed the JR’s favored meeting spot into half-shop, half-bar. He wasn’t an experienced salesperson, but his innate charisma and knack for befriending the unlikeliest of strangers has made him many a sale. In his own way, he still fights for the underdog, most commonly through hosting grassroots events on the bar’s off-nights and taking from the rich to give to the poor. It’s for that reason he was appointed the codename of ‘Robin Hood,’ and in general, he doesn’t shy away from doing what the Jolly Rogers ask of him as long as they don’t interfere with his own goals for the betterment of the city. However, with the recent revelation of trifold corruption at every possible level of London society, Sonny knows he’ll soon have to pick a side: willing hero or reluctant villain.

*HEADCANONS.

Sonny is covered with tattoos. Some are ones he’s given himself, while others are simply ones collected throughout the years. His favorite one changes every day ( if not every hour ), but he has a particular soft spot for the first one he got in tribute to his sister — a medium-sized rendering of the cover of a book he used to read her to sleep.

Despite having a relatively slight frame, Sonny regularly competes in amateur boxing matches within the middle-weight class. This is a secret he tries to keep from those closest to him, and a revelation that generally comes as a surprise given his impressively calm, jovial demeanor. His aptitude for boxing came about after he quit his first job, and has remained one of his side hustles since then — and a somewhat healthy way to get his frustration with the world out. He has never admitted aloud that it happens to be something that he enjoys, and tries to hide his identity when competing.

( Going further, Sonny will be abandoning the fighting in favor of more political and/or gang activity! )

Outside of the ring and in his everyday life, Sonny’s a bit of an extravagant dresser. Though it comes with the territory of owning an antiques shop, and certainly helps to sell interested buyers on the fantasy of it all, he enjoys experimenting with his personal style and often personalizes his wardrobe with ironed-on patches and hand-painted slogans. One of his most signature pieces are his red-lensed sunglasses, which also happen to assist with his acute color blindness.

His favorite section of One Man’s Trash is the books section, most especially the vintage comics. As a young kid, he grew up envisioning himself in the role of superhero, particularly when it became clear that there simply weren’t too many heroes walking around with his complexion or various other facets of his identity. Sometimes, he’ll even toss in a comic for free along with a patron’s purchase — something that he thinks will resonate with that person or provide them with a story they might need to hear.

Technically, Sonny’s legal address is that of his of his one-bedroom flat, but with the increase of attempted break-ins and sheer influx of business pouring into One Man’s Trash nowadays, he’s set up a cozy little corner within the shop for him to sleep.

*WANTED CONNECTIONS.

( the first four are carryover from s1 of LF, and the next batch are less defined ideas i’ve come up with for s2! if none of these vibe but you’d still like to write with lil bb sunshine, dm me and we’ll figure something out <333 )

thief in the night; Whether it’s a rival gang hit or just a desperate kid thinking Sonny’s got buckets of cash hidden away, I’d love to play around with the shop getting targeted for a wee bit of the old larceny. This could def go in a number of ways — playing around with more rival gang dynamics, or even Sonny helping to rehabilitate someone in need. Bonus points if this forces Sonny to confront the reality that technically, he’s doing a bit of stealing in order to fulfill his JR duties, too. A bit of two sides, same coin energy, anyone?

domino effect; A little while ago, Samson truly had it all: a promising political career, funds to spare, an apartment to die for…and even a marriage on the horizon. In reeling and recuperating from the scandal that destroyed the politician he was working for, he quickly lost everything, both the material things and matters of the heart. This connect is for his ex-fiance(e), who broke things off when Sonny was at his lowest. Whether the dissolution of their relationship was because your muse valued the material things Sonny had access to, or if it was simply because Sonny just wasn’t himself when all the things went down, or another reason altogether — all UTP !! Just to note: Their breakup would have been roughly 4+ years ago, though we can be a bit flexible with the timeline as needed!

mentor; Sonny’s a bit disillusioned by the state of the world, but simultaneously has a passion for justice and truly wants to make London a better place for those who’ve so long been ignored. It would be grand to get to play around with someone who inspired him during his university days and truly believed Sonny had a promising future as a policy-maker or public advocate, and is perhaps disappointed in the trajectory his life has taken. Similarly, I’d also be interested in playing around with a newer mentor who sees the potential he has and inspires him into more action in the future.

promising young man; This would be for someone within the government / influential civilian realm who recognizes that Sonny could be a brilliant asset to further their charitable or political goals — but, unlike the more genuine underpinnings of the mentor connect, this person would definitely be of the ‘use him and lose him’ variety. I’m a sucker for a bit of chaos, and I would like to think that this could be the final straw to break Sonny’s back, leaving him to either sink or swim. ---

patrons; hey, if you end up on sonny’s list of favorite customers, i can guarantee you’re getting a pretty sweet deal, okay!

like an orphanage, we take everyone in; FOB reference aside, this connect is for those Londoners who’ve sort of lost their way or were simply dealt a shit hand — and now need a bit of help ( by way of room/board, temporary work, etc ) to stand on their own. open to past or present connections!!

gang rivals; going forward, Sonny’s gonna be ... a little bit more involved in gang activities than he’s been in the past, and I’d love to see him explore some rival dynamics with characters of the other gang!

It’d be a touch unlikely for him to develop rivalries within the Jolly Rogers, but if you can really see this as a possibility between your bb and mine, then let’s work it out!

boxing rival; he’s soon going to be hanging up his gloves for good, but it’d be fun to play around with seeing how an in-the-ring rival dynamic translates to outside of it!

charity connects; what it says on the tin! Sonny isn’t officially within the political sphere of London ( yet...heh ), but he definitely is available to work on local charities’ grant applications, host grassroots campaign events, and the like!

blackmail or bust; hehe i’m a sucker for a bit of chaos, and sonny is arguably my most easygoing chara, which ofc means it’s about time to toss him into the fire! this would be for someone ( likely not JR-affiliated ) who’s threatening to reveal his JR affiliation to his sister, Lydia, in exchange for tbd. Definitely need to more thoroughly plot this one out ( possibly even with Lydia’s player, Emily ) as we progress through the dynamic, but I’m eager to see how Sonny might react to this whole situation <33

anything and everything as per!!

#lf.intro #*this tender heart » ABOUT.#*show me a hero » VISAGE.#// we're not gonna talk about how stupidly long it took to basically copypasta his bio #shhhh

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