Once Upon a Time

I really, really like the Devil May Cry stuff you're writing ^-^

And I was curious- if you're okay with it of course.

Romantic headcanons for Dante x fem!Reader where she spends the night for the first time at his place? Like they're already in a relationship, but his girl isn't ready for s*x

you had been in the best relationship of your life with Dante, it was goofy, silly, stupid but deep at the same time where you could comfortably admit to anything with Dante and he would respond in kind with comfort and reassurance.

so when he invited you over for the night, your mind went elswhere and had stayed there even as you stepped through the door, stiff and worried when night quickly approached faster then you liked.

was he going to expect sex in your first time staying over?

was it the priamary reason you were invited over? for sexy times?

if so would he be dissapointed if you were to admit that you weren't ready, if you were ever going to be ready for it, would he be ashamed? after all it seemed as though society deemed sex a pivitol part in keeping a relationship happy, demanding of it even if one was nowhere near ready for that vital step.

even if you may disagree with that mindset.

no this was your Dante you were talking about, the man who alsot tripped over his own two feet when asking you out, the very man who insits on sharing his sundaes with you whenever you were sad, cuddled up on his lap, embraced in his warmth.

the very same man who wore the silliest pyjama pants to bed all the time, ones covered in pizza slices, or ones covered in little cartoon strawberry icecreams with cute little faces that displayed a variety of emotions.

the very man who kisses your forhead whenever your worries got the best of you, claiming that his kisses could wash them away, and they did as did everything often did with Dante to be your comfort, your safe haven and friend as well as your handsome partner.

however the fear still remained, making you unable to relax at all, muscles tense asn your sense on high alert from any indication from Dante.

only to sense nothing as he smiles at you that sweet smile that shows off his sharp looking canines. Nothing out of the ordinary, not yet at least as you felt your tongue loosen the moment you step into his bedroom.

‘We’re not having sex are we?’

Dante’s brows are raised as a frown replaces his smile from moments prior and your mind became worse then it was before, filling your head with poison and venom that you almost didn’t hear him or feel him in your state of numbness.

Not until you felt his warm hands grace your shoulders, grounding you as you managed to urge your eyes to look into his own, seeing the concern within them as his calloused thumbs caressed. ‘What ever gave you that impression sweetheart?’ He asks softly as he guides you to sit at the edge of his bed as he knelt in front of you.

‘Isn’t that how it always leads to? Sex.’ You replied as you toyed with your hands, eyes once again averting his gaze as you found interest in picking at your fingers almost in a violent manner. ‘Something I am in no way ready for and am scared that will run you away because of it.’ You added.

Dante was quick to put a stop to your violent finger picking/scratching by intertwining his fingers with yours, kissing them as he tucks your hands close to his chest. ‘Not always, and that’s not why I brought you here because I realise that I can’t sleep at all without you,’ he laughs to himself, ‘kinda like how a kid can’t sleep without a stuffed toy for comfort, you are that comfort to me and I want you nowhere else but by my side.’ He continues as he reads the emotions upon your face, seeing that you were starting to relax and let your guard down to rest.

‘Really? Nothing else.’ You said barely above a whisper.

‘It’s the furthest thing from my mind sweetheart.’ Dante reassures. ‘We won’t do anything like that unless you’re ready and willing, to do so without taking in your own feelings is just a dick move. A relationship is between two people who love each other, some have a sex while others might not, it’s still a relationship regardless sweetness.’ He kisses your finger interlocked with his, smiling.

‘So if we never have sex, that’s fine by me becuase I’m not going anywhere without you, you’re my person and I’d rather keep what we have then ever throw it away over something stupid as sex.’ He then moves from kneeling to sit next to you, letting go of your hands for a moment before reconnecting them, and letting you rest your head upon his shoulder as he gingerly placed his atop of yours, though not before kissing it.

‘We’re just going to share a bed and cuddle and fall asleep together and wake up together too just to be lazy about wanting to leave bed.’ He whispers and you couldn’t help but laugh at how true that might be, before feeling a little silly in being overly cautious about the reasoning for Dante wanting you here

yet you were also glad that he had cleared any and all misconceptions within you as now all you wanted to do was cuddle up to him, sleep and be very begrudging in getting up the next day, just like he promised.

FANCY SEEING YOU HERE II

- DANTE SPARDA (DMC)

Thanks for all the love on part one, much appreciated. FSYH is not finished but it’s also not fleshed out (pure brainrot) so if you have ideas you would like to see here, you’re more than welcome to comment or send an ask my way.

Happy reading!

Part one

6:57pm.

You were waiting at the front doors of a grand hotel lobby. Enzo assured that this was an intel only mission, however the heavily armed security posted on every corner had you thinking otherwise. Whoever was in there was considered a risk, and while you hadn’t known Dante for long, you doubted his ability to act tactfully.

As another man held the hotel door open for you, you politely waved your and in rejection, “Just waiting for someone, thank you.”

The man looked down your figure once more, sending you a wink before disappearing inside. You fought the urge to cringe in disgust, and looked around once more into the dark street. It was bustling with traffic as cars pulled into the valet parking, you hoped Dante would be here soon. You were starting to freeze you ass off in this thin dress, although floor length, the fabric did nothing to warm you.

A low whistle called from behind you, “Damn sweetheart, holding out on me earlier were you?”

As you turn around you can blatantly see Dante staring you down, his eyes glued to the way the dress highlights your curves. It’s not really the low cut of the dress that gets him going though (although it certainly helps) it’s the deep red colour you’ve purposely chosen to wear. The symbol alone, the idea that you’re an item is enough to make his mind jump off the deep end into his fantasies.

“Can’t show all my cards now can I?”

“Guess not,” he mutters absently, watching the way your heels clack against the stone pavement.

Once you’re close enough, you lean in, “Did Enzo send you the target details?”

Naturally, Dante reaches forth to place a hand on your waist. To outsiders you look like a couple getting comfortable, and he’s fighting to keep the act up. “Yeah, some hotshot boss man right? Has information on some demon hoard,”

“Not just a demon hoard, rumours have it that he has access to his own portal, did you read all of the report?”

Dante hums dismissively, his thumb circling your hipbone, “I was thinking about other things,”

“Like what?” You scoff.

“What’s our backstory?” He questions, eyes peering up at you.

You frown, tilting your head, “Sorry? I didn’t see a backstory in the plans,”

The man laughs, gently tugging you closer as he watches another couple walk through the doors of the hotel lobby. They nod towards each other out of curtesy, “I’m thinking we met through work friends, everyone said you were too good for me, but I, ever persistent, refused to back down,”

You laugh out of disbelief, “Are you forming our dating history? I don’t think that’s necessary, no one is going to pick up on that,”

Dante looks down at you, his expression shifting into a tense furrow, “They are going to catch us in an instant if we can’t blend in, I’m not risking that.”

This makes you pause, the break in his usual flirty character makes you second guess yourself. When you look over your shoulder into the hotel lobby you can see multiple partners chatting and drinking. Had Enzo set you up for failure? This didn’t seem like a usual business gathering. The fancy dress code, affluent crowd, and security made it seem more like a private gala.

“How long were you chasing me before I agreed to a date?”

Dante smirks, “Three and a half failed attempts over two months,”

Your eyebrow quirks, “Half attempt?”

The man sighs, waving his hand in distant memory, “You were drunk, I drove you home, and you kept spouting on about how handsome I was—”

You raise your hand with a scoff, “Not likely,” you tap your chin in though, “How about, I agreed to a fake date at a work function to avoid an ex boyfriend?”

Dante hummed, “A jilted lover huh?” He shuffles closer, in the name of keeping up appearances, he justifies, “Seems likely, poor guy I’d almost pity him.”

You shake your head in disbelief, you’re almost tempted to break out of his grasp but the thunk of car doors behind you signals that people are still walking past into the building. Instead of shying away you lean forward, tilting your head and completely invading his space.

You raise your hand, a manicured finger gently tracing his cheek, “Well, he was a disappointment. His ego couldn’t keep up with his performance, if you know what I mean,”

Dante feels a spark crackle down his spine, he’s pleasantly surprised by your adaptability. Most people like wouldn’t humour him for this long, and he’s starting to mourn that he’ll never experience this again.

His eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You roll your eyes, “Don’t make me spell it out for you Dante, have a little bit of taste,”

His sly smile gives him away, “I’d never disappoint you darling, promise,”

You hum, “We done now? I know I’m getting paid overtime, but I have got to get to my bed at some point tonight,”

“Can I join?” The quick response makes you slap his arm. Not wanting to humour him longer, you grab his hand and turn around. Dante falls in step with you as you walk towards the lobby doors, he props the door open, ushering you in with his other arm around your waist.

A door man greets you instantly, offering to take your coat. You smile warmly, turning your back towards him but before he can step forward, Dante intervenes by placing his body between your back and the doorman.

“Allow me, sweetheart. Why don’t you go ahead and find our table?” Dante murmurs.

You can see the doorman back off instantly from the corner of your eye. When you look over your shoulder at Dante, you can see why. His gaze looks murderous as he slips your coat off, you mentally applaud his dedication to the role.

Following his lead, you nod both to him and politely at the doorman, “Sure, don’t take too long,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs, gently dropping a kiss on your shoulder before backing up. The slight feel of it makes you pause, a tingle remains in the spot but you refuse to make a deal of it. Instead, you look over at him once more to see him walking towards the coat room before making your way into the venue.

The person of interest tonight it Marcus Wicks, a man with some very deep pockets, and interesting ties with some unorthodox scientists. Information on him is limited, as he has done a good job sticking close to the shadows or having other informants do his work for him.

You catch sight of the man as you walk over to your table, he’s standing near the corner, surrounded by what you assume is associates chatting around him and security behind him. He looks over his shoulder to ensure they’re there before being pulled into a conversation.

Paranoid much? You look over the name plates on the table, stopping when you see yours and Dante’s. You’re not sure how Enzo managed to get you both into this venue, but you’ve learnt not to question it if it’ll save you the headache. You’ve barely just sat before the lady to your left turns to you.

“My, my that gown is gorgeous, what a beautiful colour,” she gushes.

You smile politely. “Oh, thank you, you’re too kind. I could say the same about you,”

The lady waves her hand, “Oh, this old thing. I didn’t even bother buying a new dress, I’ve been to so many of these things by now, they’re starting to get boring. I’m glad to see a new face,” she grins, “Are here with someone?”

You lean in closer in an act of interest, if she’s been here for a while she could offer some insight about Marcus. You’re about to ask but she cuts you off with a wide flourish of her hands, “Wait! I’ve got the perfect guy for you! He recently moved here, tall, good looking,” she leans in a closer with a whisper, “Rich too,”

A hand drops on your shoulder, “Goodness sweetheart, trading me in already?” You look up to see Dante had made his way over, “I know I was in the doghouse but I didn’t think you’d get rid of me that fast. What can I do to make it up to you, my love?”

You laugh, placing your hand over you chest and on his, “Don’t be dramatic, I was just about to introduce you,”

The lady in front of you gasps, “I’m so sorry! I just assumed because you had no ring, my husband is always telling me to think before I speak, oh god how embarrassing,”

You smile in reassurance, “Please, don’t apologise, it’s not a big deal,” you pat Dante’s hand, “This is Dante, my partner,” the sentence rolls off your tongue smoothly.

Dante squeezes your shoulder, “Pleasure to meet you…” he draws out.

“How rude of me, I don’t believe we introduced each other. Vivian,”

You introduce yourself in turn. The first thing you learn about Vivian is that she is one nosy lady, she has gossip on just about every person present in the building. Dante stands as a steady shadow behind you, thumb rubbing the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone gently as he half listens, half surveys the room.

“Mr.Wicks, or Marcus, is a new addition to our little events. I can’t remember who invited him, he just showed up one day and quickly became a popular patron,” Vivian takes a sip of her wine, “Probably because he has all the money in the world to burn,”

Your eyes widen, “He really has that much?”

“That much, and more darling. He’s got a very successful data broker company that keeps his hobbies afloat.”

Dante leans over your shoulder, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to introduce myself to the others,”

You look over at him, “Sure, I’ll see you soon,”

You watch as Dante walks over to a group of men nearby the open bar. He bumps his elbow into one of the men in a friendly gesture, shaking his hand with a broad grin. He’s a natural at this. You almost shake your head in disbelief, it’s like he has a pull that draws people in. One that you’re starting to fall victim to.

Vivian chimes in, “You two are gorgeous together,”

To save yourself from an embarrassing flush, you reach for your drink, “Thank you,”

“No, really, I’ve never seen a man so enamoured,” is that jealousy you hear? “It’s like you fit in each others shadows, a complete match,”

You take a sip of your drink before responding. Pondering how you should go about this conversation, “We’re not perfect,” you laugh, “We’ve had our fair share of fights, that I can assure you of,”

Vivian hums thoughtfully, “What’s your secret then? What keeps you two together?”

At this, you grin, “Stubbornness.”

After a few moments you manage to get out of Vivian’s spotlight and steer the conversation back to Marcus. You lean that his hobbies include everything about demonology, and portals.

“Gateways to other dimensions, he calls it,” she waves her hand dismissively, “I couldn’t tell you anything else I tuned out after that. Honestly, what a load of garbage right? Who believes in any of that?”

You nod and take it all in while Vivian has another sip of her drink. Heavy drinker. While what she has told you isn’t anything new, it’s good to have your information solidified by another person.

Before your conversation can continue, a man walks up on stage, “Ladies and gentlemen if you could please make your way to your seats. The event will start soon.”

You watch as every begins to weave between tables to their seat, whispering to each other. It’s not long before Dante drops himself down beside you, he places his hand on your thigh and leans over to whisper in your ear.

“How was your gossip session?”

You hum, “Information was confirmed, nothing new though. What about you and your gentlemen club?”

You can hear Dante inhale, his hand gently rubbing up and down your thigh, “Afraid the club brings bad news,” this makes you frown, “Apparently Marcus is unveiling a project tonight for his loyal followers,”

You tense, rigid enough that Dante squeezes your thigh in reassurance, but that alone is clarification enough of your suspicion.

“He has a demon. Here?” You murmur, trying to keep your breathing even but your heart rate has picked up.

“Yes,” he exhales, “You should sneak out now, I can meet you—”

The lights abruptly cut out, you can make out a screen being lowered as a projector clicks on. When you look over your shoulder you can see Dante is already seeing the same thing. Security closes the door and swiftly locks everyone inside.

“So much for plan A,” Dante mutters.

You don’t know how he can be so calm. Well, you do know, demon hunter and all, but you’re freaking out. Heart rate elevated, your breathing gets heavier, and you think you’re getting dizzy but that could either be the alcohol or paranoia talking.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,”

You whip your head around, facing him directly, “You can’t promise that,” you hiss hysterically, “We don’t even know what we’re up against,”

Vivian looks over at you quizzically, concerned about your rising tone. You smile pleasantly, and pat Dante’s chest patronisingly. She smiles knowingly before turning back to her husband.

Dante leans closer, talking lowly, “Have some faith in me please, sweetheart, this is my job we’re talking about,”

You search his eyes, in the light of the projection screen you see nothing but confidence. Everything from his expression to his body language suggests he has nothing to fear.

You close your eyes and breathe in deeply, when you look back at him, he has an unreadable expression on his face, “I swear Dante, if I come out of this with even a scratch, I’ll be pissed off,”

Marcus makes his unassuming entrance onto the stage. There’s nothing out of the usual with his appearance, just an average looking business man if you didn’t know any better.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me tonight. As you may know, all your efforts and contribution to my project has come to fruition,” he raises his wine glass, “Please join me in a drink, for this is a celebration of our hard work.”

Applause erupts around the room, you hesitantly join in but Dante remains still with his arm draped across the back of your chair. The rooms becomes quieter as security rolls out a large cage, the contents are covered— typical— by a white sheet.

Marcus goes on, with what you honestly think, is a tangent about his passion for otherworldly dimensions and demons from hell. You can’t find yourself tuning in as much as you should, far too distracted by the cage that sits quietly on stage. Why is it quiet? You would have thought the demon inside would be kicking up a storm in its captivity, but not even the sheet is moving. Is it sedated? Who has their hands on demon grade sedative?

You tense when Marcus walks over to the cage, “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” his hands grasp the sheet, “Feast your eyes, on what is only the beginning of our journey.”

The sheet flies off with a flourish, falling to the ground below the stage, gasps sound from around the room including your own.

The cage is empty.

“Oh, fuck,” you panic.

“Fuck.” Dante sighs.

A strange shadow crosses the projector lens, cause the screen to flicker. You look up at the ceiling, in the darkness of the room you can see a bulking shadow. Hovering right above you.

You clench Dante’s thigh, “Dante—”

“I see it.”

Through your peripheral you can see him gazing up at the ceiling, “Get under the table.” He demands.

You don’t really want to let go of him, it feels more dangerous separating from him than finding cover. Hesitantly, you start to shuffle off your chair slowly to not cause suspicion.

Vivian looks confused as you go, “What are you doing?”

You’re already sitting on the floor when she asks, you make a shushing motion, “Follow me,” you whisper, taking her by the wrist and not taking no for an answer.

Once you’re under the table, she asks again, “What on earth is going on?”

You can hear a chair dragging across the floor beside you, “Where is it then?” Dante calls out. You cringe at his brash attitude.

“Where’s what?” Vivian she asks quietly.

You don’t answer, but Dante does, “The demon? I was promised I would see one tonight.”

You can’t see Marcus’ expression but you assume it’s not a friendly one. You can hear footsteps closing in, security probably, trying to search the perimeter. A unearthly growl reverberates across the room, silencing everyone.

You can see Vivian open her mouth but you slap your hand across it before she can speak. She’s frowning, you’re about to try and placate her when something heavy drops onto the table about your head. It rattles the cutlery and you can see wine glasses fall off the edge.

“Wow,” Dante whistles, “Now that’s what you call an entrance.”

The room erupts with screams, people frantically getting out of their seats and dashing for the exit. You stay perfectly still, even as the table worryingly starts to rattle and tip.

“What is that?” Vivian cries.

“A demon,” you try to say as evenly as possible. You can hear Dante in the background trying to lure the demon off the table.

“What?” Suddenly she looks around frantically, “My husband, what about—”

“I really wouldn’t suggest leaving here right now,” you whisper, “Wait for Dante to lead the demon off the table,”

She stares at you for a moment, “You’re being serious,”

Sounds of cutlery falling crashes around, “Yes,”

“And just what does you partner do?”

You look away, “He’s a demon hunter,”

“A demon hunter,” she frowns, “How did you get in tonight? Who do you know here?”

You sigh, looking at Vivian squarely, “Now is not the time for the full story but I think you’re smart enough to piece it together anyway,”

Vivian looks at you for a long moment, “I want to get out of this alive,” she says finally.

You nod, “Me too.”

You both agree to stick together in solidarity, holding each other’s hand tightly. You hear the demon screech terribly above you.

“That one hurt big guy? Why don’t you come do something about it?” Dante taunts.

Heavy footsteps crack the table, causing splinters to rain down on you. They reach the end of the table, slowly you shuffle back, bringing Vivian with you. When you reach the opposite end, you hesitantly peek out from under the cloth, you can see the stage, now empty, but surprisingly no blood spilt. You hope it stays that way.

You can see an emergency exit door beside the stage, you could make it if you dashed for it. The tablecloth drops as you slip back under, you tug your dress up and reach for your heels.

“What are you doing?” Vivian whispers.

“Take them off,” you respond, “We have to make a run for it.”

Vivian quickly follows your direction. With heels abandoned, you wait for Dante’s signal. Listening carefully you can hear something being thrown before landing with a thunk, the demon responds with a resounding roar.

“I have enough knives to throw to last me all night,” is he being serious? “Are you gonna make the first move? Or do I?”

The table creeks once more, you grab Vivian’s hand. “Get ready.”

The table tips with the demons weight, exposing your place of hiding. You take your chance as the demon launches itself at Dante. Keeping low you dash for the emergency exit door, Vivian close behind you. Vivian lets out a terrified gasp, alerting the demon. Its head whips in your direction but you keep going, dragging Vivian even closer.

The demon is about to turn around when Dante runs for it, you only catch a glimpse of it but you swear you see him summon a sword out of nowhere.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you yet.”

You shoulder the exit door open, shoving Vivian through and then slamming it closed again as if that would be enough. Once it’s closed, you grab her hand again and leap down the stairs until you see the doors leading outside.

You gasp, breathing heavily. It’s not safe yet but at least you’re out of the perimeter. It’s raining heavily now, and you’re getting soaked to the bone.

You glance over at Vivian in her deep purple dress, she wraps her arms around herself. “What do I do? My husband…is he alive?”

You swallow, “I don’t know,” you whisper, “But Dante is doing all he can, don’t lose hope yet.”

She nods absently. You can hear police sirens in the distance.

Not long after, you were ushered away from the lobby doors by paramedics begrudgingly, despite explaining you weren’t hurt. But they insisted you get out of the rain to avoid hypothermia, so now you sit increasingly anxious in the back of an ambulance with a blanket over your shoulders. You can hear gunshots, even a few windows shatter.

It felt like forever before it finally went silent. Moments passed before you saw police securing civilians out of the building. You leap out of the ambulance, despite the worried shouts of paramedics you run for the doors. Staying behind the parked police but looking anxiously.

Familiar white hair can be spotted easily amongst the crowd, “Dante!”

You can see him more clearly now, his clothes are torn from what looks like claw marks. And there’s bloodstains, of either his or the demon’s you can’t be certain. His head turns in the direction of his name, spotting you instantly. He walks over, mid-conversation with the police, which irks them you can see but they don’t try to follow him.

“Missed me?” He smirks.

You exhale, relieved to see him okay, “All pieces of you accounted for?”

“All the important ones anyway,”

He smiles, tucking your drenched hair behind your ear, “I told you, you’d be okay. Look you even made it out with no scratches. Damn, I am good at my job,”

“You scared me half to death,” you exasperate.

Dante looks at you for a moment, “You care about me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes widen at the insinuation, you look down at your bare feet to avoid his gaze. You were just put through an intense situation, one that you were nowhere near prepared for. And you don’t appreciate that being downplayed.

“Yes, I do care, for you wellbeing,” you hiss, “You are one of my hunters, and what you did in there was reckless at best! Taunting a demon like that, are you fucking stupid?”

“I like it when you call me yours,”

“Don’t deflect the conversation—”

He steps closer into your space, you’re practically chest to chest, and the height difference causes you to look up.

“I am fine,” he emphasises, “Renowned demon hunter, remember? I know my limit, and I don’t need you to worry about me,”

“You’re impossible,”

Dante shrugs, “Get used to it angel, because you’re going to see a lot more of it.”

You can head Vivian in the background shouting her husband’s name, when you look over you can see her leaping into his arms. You let out a sigh of relief, you’re glad they got reunited. Her husband hugs her tight as she sobs into his arms.

“Saw what you did in there, brave of you,”

You look away, “Kinda stupid separating them though, worried her for nothing,”

Dante hums, “He was lucky this time that I was there, you though, you saved her. Sure we can’t make a hunter out of you?”

You look up at him, eyebrow raised. “Maybe not,” he second guesses, “Then who would greet me after my missions?”

“Enzo?” You guess.

Dante scrunches his nose, “Nah, he’s no way near as hot as you,”

You roll your eyes, “Walk me home?”

Dante nods, removing his damaged jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

IDIOT GAMER

SUMMARY || in which, a sassy and bitter househusband, and his beloved, idiotic streamer of a lover got married! what a lovely occasion. now, for the married life in a newer, and bigger apartment.

PAIRINGS || Househusband Scaramouche x Gaming Streamer GN Reader

GENRE || Fluff, Smut (not confirmed u thirsty ppl), Rom-Com (romantic comedy)

AU || Modern

INTRODUCING || the newly-wedded couple, bowl-cut's family, idiot's ugly bootiful family, annoying lovely neighbors!, streamer's streamer friends

CHAPTER I — new tenants to Sumeru Apartments

CHAPTER II — not so husband material 😭

CHAPTER III — minecraft with hubby moochie 😇‼️ and the sidekicks ig

CHAPTER IV — cooking mama with [name] 🤭🥰

CHAPTER V — elden ring stream no death real not clickbait 😱‼️

CHAPTER VI — Fan Meetup except everything goes wrong 😦

CHAPTER VII — how to househusband by scaraboobs

CHAPTER VII — DO NOT STALK 😡😡😡

CHAPTER VII — collab with chef xiao 🤭🥳

CHAPTER VIII — tell me ur a paparazzi without telling me ur a paparazzi

CHAPTER IX — how to be a good lover to ur husband's lesbian mothers without looking like an otaku loser

CHAPTER X — massive cucumber 🥒

MORE TO COME !

SERIES STARTS AT MARCH 31TH, 2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE || SCARANATION UR VOICES HAVE REACHED OUT TO ME AND HERE IS THE MASTERLIST OF IDIOT GAMER

The Ero Mangaka aka Editor Kaveh x Ero Mangaka GN Reader will come out once the first chapter of Idiot Gamer comes out so

yes 🥰

Taglist is open btw

A/N: honestly didnt think I would come up with another astv fic so quick after the first one lmao but I got inspired for this scenario based on the overall consensus struggle artists are having drawing Miguel (me included asdfhjk). I was stuck between doing a drabble or a list of headcanons and doing some other characters as well. But I decided to keep it simple for now, but if you guys would like to see headcanons of the other characters reacting to you drawing them, feel free to let me know and tell me about any other ideas you guys may have!

Trigger Warning: none

Word Count: 795

Miguel O'Hara x Reader - Drawing Practice

Being a part of the Spider Society definitely had it’s perks and setbacks. 

Yeah, it can be stressful, exhausting, and anxiety inducing. Honestly, that just came with being a Spider-person in general. 

On the plus side, it was nice to be a part of something so extraordinary. Just when you started to feel lonely, you were soon thrusted into this whole other universe of other walks of life that were like you. 

Which easily kept you inspired for your art. You had a plethora of finished sketchbooks, scrapbooks of your drawings you did on notepads, napkins, and other materials. 

When you weren’t on missions in your own universe or serving as backup for an anomaly mishap, you were likely swinging around the headquarters looking for your next subject. (Not to mention there was no angle quite like the one you could get hanging upside down…)

During one of the more calmer days, you were sifting through your latest sketchbook. It was almost full. Mostly consisting of whatever caught your eyes, some new environments from different universes, and all sorts of different Spider personas. 

Well, most of them anyway. There was still probably many more you have yet to see…or one in particular you see almost every day. 

Spiderman 2099 a.k.a. Miguel O’Hara a.k.a. The guy that founded and ran this whole thing. He’s also Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating…and handsome…but mostly intimidating.

You rarely spoke to him outside of certain missions where he requested you for back-up or for any sort of follow-up meeting. 

You definitely can't forget his face though…perhaps you could draw from memory? Maybe start from his mask and go from there? It can't be too hard. It's not like he's ever gonna see it anyway, and besides how are you going to draw everyone else but him? 

You got comfortable at a nearby corner seat in the food court area. You took a deep breath and started sketching. 

The more you sketched the more all the hustle and bustle started to fade away. It was you and the sketchpad. You could almost hear the pencil scrape the paper and the thumps whenever you had to erase something with your eraser.

Some significant time had gone by, and a certain leader was looking for you. Yet you didn't have the slightest clue. 

Miguel cleared his throat to get your attention properly and you almost jumped to the ceiling. 

"Oh, uh…hi, Miguel…w-what's up?" You really wanted to ask how long he was there. And damn your hyperfocus for interfering with your spidey senses. 

You clutched the pad to your chest, trying to keep him from seeing what you were doing. You hoped he never even noticed. 

"I wanted to ask you about this new mission. If you wouldn't mind following me so we can discuss it in private?" 

"Uhh. Yeah. Okay, sure." You got up from your seat, still clutching your sketchbook like a lifeline in treacherous waters. 

As you followed behind him, you couldn't help but feel conflicted. 

On one hand you didn't want him to see and on the other you kinda wanted to know what he thought about them. Would he appreciate them? Would he think it was weird? It's not like it was just him, you drew all the Spiders…

"I like your drawings, by the way." He commented over his shoulder as you got closer to his desk. 

"Oh. Uh..uh thanks…" 

"Gotta admit, I've never had anyone draw me before…" Miguel mentioned.

"That was my first attempt, you're the only Spider I haven't drawn yet."

"Felt obligated to add me in with the others?" 

Before you could stop yourself, you said. "More like saving the best for last…" 

You both stopped simultaneously in your trek. Both of you were shocked at the sentiment. 

Miguel was far from perfect, despite how hard he tried to be perfect and in control. Despite his flaws and his cold aura. You admired his determination and dedication (even if it bit him more often than helped him.) 

He turned to face you, as if expecting you to take it back or say it was a joke.

"Really?" 

You nodded.

You couldn't help the soft swell in your chest when you saw the faintest hint of a smile grow to the side of his lips. 

You tried to train your eyes and brain to take a mental photo for later. 

You two started walking again in comfortable silence, until Miguel's voice perked up. 

"Although. I don't think I have that many wrinkles." He quipped. 

You quirked your eyebrow, questioningly. "With your stress?" 

Miguel nodded in a huff. "Fair enough. You should probably add more." 

You tried to refrain from giggling as he tried to refrain from smiling any wider. 

currently thinking about dante sparda who’s a feminist, 6’3, built—and oh, did i mention feminist?

“say, dante, what’s your opinion on men’s rights ?”

“irrelevant.”

dante doesn’t miss the slight pause you make before continuing to stir your drink. he sits in the booth across from you, enzo munching on fries opposite him as he sneaks a sip of his sundae.

“yer joking !” enzo says between belches. “something wrong with ya kiddo ? what do you mean men’s rights are irrelevant ?!”

but dante isn’t listening. he’s more concerned about the gap between your lips & coffee cup, the way you tilt it slightly above your mouth so as to not stain the glass with your gloss. your lips tug into a pout when you find the rim stained in coke pink regardless. you pull out a napkin & wipe it with a frown. cute.

“well, as a six three, employed and financially stable male,” dante clears his throat, smug, “i can’t help but turn my focus to more important things. for example, the widening gap between men and women’s wages. and we can’t forget the rising prices of feminine hygiene products, of course.”

enzo wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. he doesn’t miss the way dante’s pupils seem to flit over to you every now and then. he clicks his tongue,

“kid, please, y’know she hasn’t even looked at ya, right?”

“she will.”

you continue to scroll through your phone.

but dante takes your silence as intrigue.

“anyways,” dante pauses as if searching for the words, “i just think it’s important to raise awareness—”

“yer raisin’ my freakin’ blood pressure.”

dante shoots him a glare. “i just think that, as a six foot four male, it’s my duty to raise awareness about the issues women face and the obvious gender bias in america’s modern day economy.”

“y’said six three before, kid—wait, what’s yer’ height gotta do with anything ?!”

as if on cue, your teaspoon clatters to the ground, and dante, ever the feminist, is quick to lean down to pick it up—rattling the table and spilling enzo’s fries in the process.

“hey! watch it—“

“your spoon, lady,”

you blink. dante’s taken his time to wipe the spoon clean & present it with a napkin. you hesitate a little before obliging with a murmur, “thanks..?”

“you’re welcome,” he says smoothly, relaxing into the booth seat. “no woman should ever have to bend over in a skirt. i mean—unless she wants to. then it’s her choice. her feminine power.”

“oh !”

enzo chokes on a fry. you stare at dante for a beat too long & he can’t tell if you’re confused or interested, but dante has an ego bigger than his head so he decides upon the latter.

“say, lady, don’t you agree that men should always pay on the first date ?”

you raise a brow. “the first ?”

dante waves his hands. “all, really. i only mention the first because i know some strong, independent women prefer to pay too. i respect that. i respect all women, really.”

“right. and is this your way of offering to pay for my food ?”

dante’s pupils shift to your table. only now does he realize you’ve ordered the most expensive french breakfast on the menu, as well as a drink too milky brown to cost the same as your average cappuccino. his wallet aches heavy in his pocket. “with pleasure ! lemme just get my wallet out…hope i didn’t leave it in the hellcat…”

“huh? wasn’t our uber a toyota?”

dante bares his teeth, ready to strangle enzo when you giggle—

“oh, gosh,” you sniffle, wiping tears, “that’s enough, you two are hilarious.”

clearing your throat, you raise your hand to reveal the diamond settled on your finger. “i’m sure you’re lovely and all, but i’m happily engaged.”

“that’s okay! i support women having multiple streams of happiness—ow !”

dante rubs at his shin as you continue. “that’s nice for you, but i’m fine with my fiancé.” you set some cash on the table and dust your skirt off, standing up to leave. “thank you for the laugh, though, gentlemen.”

you wave them goodbye and make your exit.

“God, i love women.”

“seek help,” enzo mutters, as he sneaks a sip from dante’s drink again.

© 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈 ー do not edit, copy, translate or re-upload.

Morning talk with SingleDad! Miguel O´Hara

This is the next part of the series of SingleDad Miguel, hope you like it. I appreciate every comments

It is well known that Miguel has terrible sleep hygiene. He lasts whole days without sleeping and when he has the opportunity to do so, he does so in an uncomfortable chair in his laboratory. He doesn't always manage to get home to have a well-deserved rest, many times he is caught up in things at work or finds himself in some dimension dealing with some anomaly and not to mention possible time changes between dimensions.

They are the worst.

But for Miguel the most difficult thing is to see how little by little he is losing his daughter, he is not always in the best conditions to take care of Gabriela and that is something that little by little kills him inside. Despite the fact that Gaby has made it clear in multiple times that she doesn't mind that her dad can't always be there for her as long as you're present.

For Miguel and Gabriela your arrival was more than a blessing, many would think that they are exaggerating but it is the truth, Miguel felt that he was failing as a father and he felt that he should do more for his daughter, he knew that he had to ask for help but O'Hara was a proud man.

"Of course I can take care of my daughter, have a stable job, protect my city and why not, also safeguard the multiverse and go to my daughter's training sessions on weekends."

Everyone could see how the world was coming down on Miguel, except him.

After you met him at that party, you began to hang out and when you realized the big problem he had, you offered to help him a little, you didn't have superpowers and you weren't a genius, but for Miguel you always had the power to make him feel better about himself and you always managed to keep Gaby happy, and, if Gabriela was happy he was too.

So when Gabriela found out that you would live with them, she was so happy that she kept telling you what their weekends would be like and how they would spend time together non-stop.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was one of those rare days when Miguel could spend the weekend at home with his little family. The night before, he had promised Gaby that he would take her to school next day. Today is the other day and Miguel had fallen asleep making Gaby late for school.

Those mornings were chaotic but without a doubt you would never change them.

After Miguel memorized all the commands and instructions that you left in the refrigerator, he took Gaby and put her in the car, starting the car in record time.

During the journey to school they were silent, probably both were still half asleep, neither of them managed to comb their hair. Miguel was the first to break the silence.

"So... how do you feel with her at home? you are happy?" Miguel asked as he leaned his head towards his daughter waiting for an answer without stopping to see the road.

"I really like having her around, also, her food is very tasty. More than yours." Gabriela said between laughs. She liked to tease his dad from time to time. He took food very seriously, it was his way of showing his affection when words did not allow it.

"More than mine..." Miguel repeats in a low voice "Okay, it doesn't bother me. I didn't want to cook anymore anyway." And the drama begins. "It's not like cooking is our favorite thing to do together. No, not at all."

"Just kidding, I like your food, but you have to admit that mom's food is good. You always fall asleep on the couch after eating what she makes" Gaby had the biggest smile he had ever seen.

"Mom? Since when did you call her mom? What am I missing?" Miguel stopped the car at the red light, turning to see his daughter.

Gaby's cheeks were a little red. "Well... I started calling her that after it slipped out by mistake at one of my soccer practices. She said it was fine as long as you and I felt comfortable."

"Mom huh? And what do you think about that? Would you like her to be your mom?" Miguel's tone was definitely serious.

"Yes" Gaby didn't hesitate for a second to answer, it's as if she had already had this conversation in her head over and over again and in none of them would she have said no. Every time she thought about it, you always showed up, at her training sessions, at her school events, God, even she had already thought about how her first mothers day would be with you there at her festival.

"I think she's good for you Pa and if she's good for you and makes you happy, so am I." At that moment Gaby was speaking from the bottom of her heart. "Besides, you're getting old, you're lucky she noticed you" And there it was, the usual Gaby was back, bothering her father in the most affectionate way possible, in the only way a daughter like her and a father like him could show their affection.

"First of all, how dare you. Second I'M NOT OLD, it's the stress. What makes you think I'm old." Miguel kept driving as soon as the light turned green. On the other hand, Gabriela was laughing. "Well, the other day I heard you tell mom that your back and knees were starting to hurt. That's for old people"

"For the sake of my health, I'm going to ignore the fact that my precious daughter called me old. What I mean is that if I ask her to marry me, would you be okay with that?"

"Definitely, if life had given me to choose who my mother would be from the beginning, I would choose her, in this and in all universes. If one day you two separate -I hope not- I would choose to go with her. I think that that makes it clear what I think."

Miguel remained silent for a while, getting closer and closer to the school entrance. "Well, I think the decision has been made" Miguel said as he accelerated.

"You just passed the school entrance" Gaby was confused "Where are we going?"

"To the mall" Miguel just shrugged his shoulders as if it were something obvious

"For what?" Gaby only saw how her school was moving away from her sight

"To buy an engagement ring"

"That's good because I was going to tell you that I forgot my backpack at home"

"AY GABRIELA!"

contents: soft!miguel x gn!reader, implied sex (no explicit content), discussions of marriage, soft angst (nothing too bad i prommy)

"i want to marry you one day," you say. the words settle softly over your shoulders, as comfortable as an old leather jacket. miguel's muscles tense as you drag your fingertips down the plane of his stomach. the evidence of your shared pleasure still stains his skin, but you pay it no mind, curling even closer to him.

"yeah?" miguel pulls away, just far enough so he can look at you. "you'd want that?"

"i would," you say. "i do."

there's a silence. not an awkward one, but a nice one, one that soaks into your skin, into your bones. miguel's hand traces gentle circles over your back— around and around, around and around.

"i have a ring picked out," he says, finally.

"i know," you say. you do. you found it in his sock drawer. for all of his strategic genius, he didn't realize that hiding a ringbox in his sock drawer wouldn't work when he shares said sock drawer with you. "it's beautiful."

"it reminds me of you." the words rush out of him like a confession. like he's prostrating himself at the altar, begging you to accept his truth. "beautiful."

"flatterer," you smile, and tuck your face into the soft spot where his neck and jaw meet. his pulse tickles your lips. this is what being a god must feel like, you think— the quiet euphoria of sharing breaths with your lover.

"i can't marry you yet," he says, after a pause. your heart doesn't fall, but it does twinge, just a little. you expected as much.

"i know," you say again.

"you know why."

"i do." miguel is a hero. technically, you are, too. but not like him. if it were up to you, you'd take his hand and run— run far, far away, where you could love him in peace.

you were not built to carry the weight of the multiverse on your shoulders. neither was miguel. yet somehow, he does— atlas, bent on one knee, but never broken.

"i love you," he murmurs— a supplicant's plea, hands up, face turned to the sky. an apology.

"i love you, too." forgiveness. acceptance. and that is that.

now why hadn’t you noticed this before.

now why hadn’t you noticed this before.

Izuku Midoriya, class failure and nerd, was JACKED.

Maybe that would explain why he was looking more tired nowadays. Maybe that would explain why Bakugo, who looked like a stick figure, didn’t beat the shit out of him.

You could have sworn Midoriya had no muscle on him. You’ve known him since he was five for gods sake. (Well, not really known, considering you never ever had a conversation with him. you quite frankly just watched.)

He was a twig! though it was a little funny to notice that Bakugo noticed as well. And was seemingly starting to work out as well. For someone who hated his childhood friend, he sure was bad at it. well, sure he still bullied him, but spent way too much time watching him.

anyways. it got you thinking, perhaps you should start working out as well? if they were working out, shouldn’t that mean you should start as well?

You didn’t want to get left behind, of course. So you worked out, ever so slowly gaining muscle.

And you couldn’t help but hope someone else had noticed too.

Ngl im CRAVING dante content from the netflix adaptation and its not even funny anymore...

Trust im boutta BUST

Steamin Hot!

The door shut with a familiar thunk—heavy, careless, like the man himself. You didn’t even flinch.

You’d grown used to it: the clink of his weapons, the way he dropped his coat on your chair like it wasn’t your favorite, how his boots always left demon gunk on the rug you’d begged him not to ruin.

And still, your stomach fluttered.

He was already halfway to the bathroom, shirt hanging from his shoulder, the slice of pizza you’d made him take on the way up still dangling from his mouth like an afterthought.

"Long day?" you asked without looking up from your spot on the couch, cross-legged and wrapped in one of his shirts—oversized, a little torn, and still warm from the dryer.

Dante grunted. "Demons don’t take weekends. Apparently" He bit the slice, chewed, and finally turned to look at you. "You wearing my shirt again?"

You smirked, flipping the page of your book. "You left it here. Possession’s nine-tenths of the law"

"Is that so?" he muttered, already tugging off his belt. "Guess I should start leaving more stuff around, then"

You didn’t look—but you felt it. The weight of his stare. That flicker of something heavier behind the teasing. He was tired. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped just before he disappeared into the bathroom, muttering something about "needing to boil off the stink"

The sound of the shower filled the apartment a moment later—hot, hissing steam bleeding into the hallway like smoke curling off a cigarette. You let out a slow breath and stared at your book without reading.

Five minutes passed. Ten.

You heard the water stop.

He didn’t come out right away.

Eventually, the door cracked open.

You didn’t look at first. You were trying to be normal. Chill. Unbothered.

But then you caught the sound of his bare feet padding across your wooden floor—and the scent hit you. Clean skin. Soap. A little sweat, still. All him.

He appeared beside the couch like a ghost: towel low on his hips, hair wet and slicked back except for the few silver strands that clung rebelliously to his forehead. Drops of water rolled down the carved lines of his torso, trailing down into the soft dip of his abs. His necklace—the one he never took off—glinted against his chest.

"Shower’s all yours" he said lazily.

You finally looked up, slowly, your eyes trailing from his face to the rest of him with zero shame. "Did you even dry off or did you just steamroll out to flex?"

He smirked, one corner of his mouth tugging up. "Can’t help it if you’re the one staring, sweetheart"

You tossed a pillow at him. He caught it effortlessly, didn’t even flinch.

"Cocky bastard"

"Your cocky bastard" he said, dropping the pillow and then—uninvited—dropping himself onto the couch next to you, his skin still warm and damp. "Unless that changed while I was gone"

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t move. His thigh pressed against yours. You could feel every heartbeat in that contact.

"I don’t know," you murmured, "depends. You planning on stealing all my hot water every time you crash here?"

He leaned in, slow, so close his breath brushed your cheek. "Maybe"

You swallowed. Your brain short-circuited for a second.

Dante noticed.

His grin deepened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached behind you—his arm brushing your back—and grabbed a piece of cold pizza from the coffee table, taking a bite with zero shame.

"I hate you" you said softly.

"No, you don’t"

"No, I don’t" you agreed, even softer.

He leaned back, stretching with a low groan, his head tipping back against the cushion. The tension in his body—always there, even when he laughed—slowly melted out of him. His chest reflecting the light. His jaw relaxed.

You tilted your head, watching him.

He looked… younger like this. Almost soft.

"You okay?" you asked, nudging his knee with yours.

He cracked one eye open. "Took a demon’s blade through the ribs. You tell me"

You frowned instantly. "Dante—"

"Relax" he said, waving you off, but his hand found your thigh, grounding himself. "Didn’t hit anything vital. You’d be crying over my corpse if it did"

"I wouldn’t cry"

He looked over at you, serious for a flicker of a second. "Yeah, you would"

That shut you up. His hand stayed on your thigh.

You leaned into him, shoulder to bare chest. He didn’t move away.

Minutes passed like that. Just the two of you, half-dressed and quiet in your cluttered little apartment. The night hummed around you. Steam still curled in the hallway. The city beyond your window was loud and filthy and alive.

You turned your head slightly. "Hey"

He looked down.

You pressed your lips to his—quick, soft, but enough to remind him.

I’m here. You’re not alone.

When you pulled back, Dante blinked once.

Then he leaned in and kissed you again—slower. Thicker with something unspoken. His hand gripped your thigh tighter.

"You’re damn dangerous" he murmured against your lips.

You smirked. “hilarious coming from you"