#This spider has been in my brain.. It’s a problem..

[bloos-bloo]

I’m afraid the brainworms got to me chat.. I have spider brainrot again.. we have a doodle I did for practice and some magma doodles

I’m easing my way into art since I went- uhhhh- nearly a month without drawing? Damn.. AND OF COURSE ITS THE SPIDER- NDBEKBDKDBDND- tee hee-

Celebratory Leshy too

[makoodles]

ミ the mightiest

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader

🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

It was just a fluke, you tell yourself. A moment of weirdness that had come about because… because…

Okay, so you can’t really explain it.

You don’t like Neteyam! You never have! The sight of him appearing while you’re mid-rendezvous with Txetyo (the same man he had interrupted you with only a few days before!) should have sent you into an angry tailspin. And yet, you can’t forget the pulse of excitement that had throbbed low in your belly when you realised that he was standing there watching you.

Really, you should have been the one to speak up. But it was like your brain had switched off, like all your rational thoughts had gone on a temporary leave of absence; why else would you have stayed silent instead of stopping Txetyo and drawing attention to Neteyam’s presence?

Just like after your last confusing encounter with Neteyam in the healing hut, you end up sticking close to the human outpost for the next week.

It’s probably a little cowardly to hide instead of facing your problems head on, but you don’t care. You avoid Neteyam, you avoid Txetyo, you avoid any of the guys you’ve had flings with before because even the sight of them reminds you of what had happened that night in the forest. Inevitably, that leads to you avoiding the village entirely.

The outpost is as boring as ever, but it’s better than facing the mortification that’s no doubt awaiting you in the village. But at the very least, it’s not lonely.

Spider is kind enough to keep you company in the outpost for the first few days, though you quickly wish he wouldn’t. There’s not much to do, and Spider never deals well with boredom.

“Quit that.” You grit out, your eyes sliding sideways.

Spider is sitting next to you, drumming his fingers insistently on his thighs. He sighs, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling and leaning back on the lumpy couch you’re both sprawled on.

“This is mind-numbing.” He complains, throwing his dirty bare feet over your thighs. “It’s so boring here. I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time inside in my whole life.”

“You don’t have to be here.” You remind him, shoving his feet off you.

Spider sighs, swinging his legs back to the ground so he can sit up properly. “Right, sure. I could leave you here alone to mope all day by yourself in your dank little bedroom. Or you could tell me what’s going on with you.”

You grumble, and avert your eyes. Okay, so maybe your avoidance has been a little more obvious than you had intended. You’ve barely missed a day in the village your whole life, and yet in the last two weeks you’ve spent most of your time hiding out in the outpost.

“Nothing’s going on.” You say, and it rings hollow even to your own ears.

Spider purses his lips. He seems pointedly unconvinced, and stretches back on the couch with his arms across the back of the headrest.

���So it has nothing to do with whatever the hell happened when you went off with Txetyo during the hunt celebrations?”

You almost wince, but manage to keep your expression neutral as you stare at your knees. “Nope.”

Spider hums. “And I suppose the fact that Neteyam very conspicuously disappeared into the forest about ten seconds after you left is also unrelated.”

That cracks your composure, and you take a shaky breath as you glance sideways at Spider’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s judging you or anything; he’s just waiting patiently for your answer, a single eyebrow raised.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You mutter, avoiding his eyes.

There’s a long pause, and then Spider huffs out a sigh and tilts his head back to stare at the water-stained ceiling up above you. You feel a little bad about keeping secrets from him; usually you and Spider act as each other’s confidants by virtue of the fact that the two of you are humans the same age amongst all the Na’vi. But this whole mess with Neteyam is something that you’re struggling to wrap your own head around – you don’t want to start explaining the whole mortifying ordeal to someone who was as good as your brother.

“Lo’ak’ll get it out of you.” Spider says confidently.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me he’s not coming over.”

“He’s worried.” Spider protests. “You’ve been acting super weird, dude.”

“He’s nosey.” You correct.

Spider shrugs, unable to argue that point. “Well, whatever.”

It’s as if speaking his name summons him, because the shoddy linoleum floor creaks behind you as a big nine-feet-tall body steps into the room. You catch a glimpse of bright blue skin out of the corner of your eye and groan, tipping your head back against the back of the couch and closing your eyes.

“Seriously, I am not in the mood to be interrogated by the Idiot Brigade today.” You complain. “Can’t you come back and bother me another time?”

There’s a pause. And then, a low voice filled with amusement says, “Am I a member of this “idiot brigade?”

That is not Lo’ak’s voice.

For a moment, you don’t even turn around. You just breathe slowly, your eyes shut tight. Maybe if you don’t turn and look, Neteyam will just vanish from your presence as if he had never spoken at all.

But instead of Neteyam’s spontaneous disappearance, you get Spider shifting on the lumpy couch beside you before climbing to his feet. Your eyes shoot open at that, and your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief.

“Where are you going?” You hiss, already reaching out after him.

Spider stops, hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and Neteyam. He looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere other than here; you know the feeling.

“Uh… I’m gonna go find Lo’ak.” Spider mutters, his eyes darting around cagily. “Seems like you two probably need time to talk some things out.”

Before you can even protest that, Neteyam is stepping forward, marching his way around the couch. You sit up, properly startled now, realising that your window for escape is rapidly narrowing.

“Tell Lo’ak not to come.” Neteyam says simply, stepping nimbly around the couch so that he’s in front of you. It’s like he knows that you were thinking of an escape, because he tilts his head as a subtle smile tugs at his mouth.

“Yeah. Got it.” Spider sounds a little strangled, sending you a look that you can’t quite decipher before turning and scampering out the door, letting it slide shut behind him with a quiet thud.

You stare at him for a long moment, your mouth hanging open like a moron. Neteyam just stares back, his expression even, as though he’s waiting for you to speak first.

You swallow thickly, then push yourself up so that you’re standing. It’s a weak attempt to put yourself on a more even level with him, but it fails as you find yourself eye-level with his damn belly button.

“What are you doing here?” You snap, though it comes out a little weaker than you had intended.

Neteyam doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he gingerly lowers himself down onto the ancient lumpy couch that you and Spider had commandeered for yourselves from the desolate wreckage of Bridgehead. He’s almost comically large for it, his knees bent awkwardly up as he settles back, the springs creaking ominously.

“You have been avoiding the village.” He says simply.

And… oh god, you can’t stop staring. It’s stupid, because you’ve known Neteyam your whole life, you know what he looks like. But it’s like your eyes are taking him in differently now. You hadn’t spent much time with him as kids; you were always chasing after Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider, and Neteyam usually maintained a distance as he trained under the guidance of his parents. And then he was gone, departed for the reef villages, only to return after the worst of the war years had passed.

But it’s different now. He’s a man, his shoulders broader than ever and his muscles more defined than is typical of the Omaticaya warriors – no doubt thanks to his time in the reefs with the bulkier Metkayina.

Your mouth is a little dry; it’s not a good time to be reminded that you find big, muscly Na’vi men really, really attractive.

“Yeah.” You say, your voice scratchy. “Uh… I’ve been busy.”

Neteyam’s hairless brow raises in an unspoken gesture of doubt as he leans back into the couch. Your eyes dart down nervously over his abdomen. Each sculpted abdominal muscle speaks of his physical prowess and the sheer discipline and dedication to his training, and his slim waist is accentuated by the woven battle band around his waist. Fuck, you want to touch his belly.

You can hardly believe that you had this man’s cock in your hand, or that he had been grunting and fucking your fist. Maybe you had hallucinated that. Looking at him like this, taking in his big amber eyes and strong jawline and high cheekbones, you’re reminded rather harshly of just why he’s one of the most sought-after men in the village by the unmated Omaticaya girls. It seems unlikely that he’d ever lower himself to allow himself to be touched by you.

And yet, you know you hadn’t hallucinated him standing only mere feet from you in the forest, watching intently as Txetyo had railed you into the mossy ground.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, Neteyam speaks again. “Avoiding Txetyo? I do not blame you.

You almost choke at that. Good lord, the audacity of this man. He knows perfectly well that you’ve also been trying to avoid him, judging by the smug look on his face.

“No! He- he wasn’t so bad.” You protest, though the words ring unconvincingly in your own ears.

“Tawtute, you’re so tight!” Neteyam gasps mockingly, lowering his voice into a dude-bro register that decidedly does not sound like Txetyo. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I’m gonna cum—"

You squawk, hastily stepping forward to swat ineffectually at his shoulder. “Will you shut up, that’s not what–“

Neteyam grabs at your wrist when you smack his shoulders, his long fingers wrapping all the way around you before tugging. You stagger, pulled off balance as he tugs you onto the couch beside him. You end up with your limbs in an ungainly sprawl as you attempt to collect yourself beside him, flustered behind belief. He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

“And he– he made me finish, so.” You say lamely. You’re sitting next to him. Why are you sitting next to him? You should be trying to shove him up off the couch and shoo him out the door.

“I’m pretty sure you made yourself come.” Neteyam corrects, his head tilting. His glossy braids spill over his shoulders, colourful beads clicking together. “Which wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there, by the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just pointing out the obvious.” Neteyam’s smug little grin is growing, and he leans in a little closer. “I don’t think you were enjoying it at all until I showed up.”

You gape at him, stunned.

“I- you-!” You stammer, your breath catching from the sheer swell of your indignation. Who does he think he is, showing up here all muscled and gorgeous like this only to embarrass you?

“Speak for yourself!” You finally manage to splutter, trying to sit up on the couch; Neteyam’s grip on your wrist prevents you from going too far, so you give up and resign yourself to being stuck beside him until he grows bored of tormenting you. “Txetyo was– That was pretty much par for the course. I mean– it wasn’t unusual, sometimes that’s just how sex goes–“

Neteyam sits up straight, so suddenly that it startles you. His brow is furrowed, his eyes flicking rapidly over your face as though he’s trying to assess if you’re being honest.

He’s… he’s leaning in rather close to you. You blink at him, but don’t move back. It’s so rare for you to be around Neteyam without your respirator mask acting like a shield over your face, and you feel a little naked now without it.

“That was a standard experience for you?” He asks, and his voice has… changed a little. That smug amusement on his face has vanished, replaced with what looks like bewilderment.

You scoff at his surprise, rolling your eyes. “Shouldn’t you know what my standard experience is? You’ve interrupted enough of them.”

He doesn’t respond to your snarky remark. He just stares at you as if he’s examining you, and you shift awkwardly on the couch, unsure in the face of his scrutiny.

“What, you’re surprised that all men aren’t sex gods?” You ask a little testily. “They want to experiment with a Sky Person, and I like sex with Na’vi men, so… win-win.”

Neteyam just frowns, pulling back a little. “No, that’s not… I don’t understand. Why do you spend time with them if they are not successful in pleasuring you?”

Boy, is that a loaded question. You don’t want to explain to Neteyam that it’s not really about sex, that it’s more about a pathological need for physical connection and comfort, especially when you try your very hardest not to think about it yourself.

“Maybe I’m just hoping one of them will really impress me.” You mumble, a little sourly. “I guess I’ll keep holding out hope.”

Neteyam’s ears flatten, pressing low against his head as his eyes widen a little. He shifts, his body looming over you like a big blue behemoth as the couch springs squeal beneath his weight.

“I could.” He says. “Impress you, I mean.”

You snort, glancing up at him with a wry sort of smile that falls off your face almost immediately when you see the look on Neteyam’s face. His expression is perfectly earnest, his jaw set and his pupils dilated with an odd sort of urgency that you’ve never seen from him. He… he doesn’t look as though he’s making fun of you at all.

“What?” You croak, blinking.

And then you realise what all this about. Neteyam is always so determined to prove himself, to be the best at everything. He’s always pushed himself beyond his limits and worked himself to the bone to be stronger and faster and wiser, to be a better leader and a better hunter and a better fighter. You probably shouldn’t even be surprised that now he’s decided to prove that he’s better than his peers at fucking you, too.

“This is just a competition for you, isn’t it?” You scoff, yanking your wrist out of his hand. He shifts forward on the couch then as though preparing to catch you if you move to run, but you’re not making any move to leave.

“No. They are not worthy competitors.” Neteyam scoffs as if the question is absurd. “This is to prove to you that you have been wasting your time with men who are not capable of pleasing you.”

You scoff again, but it’s a much weaker sound this time. “I–”

“You have bad taste in men, paskalin.” Neteyam murmurs, shuffling closer on the ancient couch.

You stare up at him, your breath catching a little in your chest. God, he’s so much bigger than you. You hate that it’s making your body heat up, and you feel yourself growing wet as he leans in close, smelling like fresh water and the forest.

“Are you going to let me?” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to trace a finger along your jawline. “Let me prove myself.”

You should say no. You should tell him to leave, to get out. You should absolutely not feed into his own ego by fucking him.

“Yes,” You breathe stupidly. “Okay.”

You’re expecting him to grab you immediately and flip you around onto either your back or stomach; in all your previous experiences, you’ve gotten right down to it with your partners. But to your surprise, Neteyam leans in and holds your hips with his big hands as he presses his mouth to yours in a kiss.

Kissing is not something that you’re used to; the Na’vi you’ve hooked up with have stayed clear of the human outpost, unlike the Sully kids who had paid frequent visits, which means that all of your sexual encounters have occurred in the forest or in empty corners in the village with your respirator mask firmly attached to your face.

Now your face feels naked and vulnerable, and you gasp shakily against Neteyam’s mouth when he leans in and kisses you firmly.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body.

Neteyam doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. He kisses with his hands, his whole body. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backward, your body pressing into the raggedy couch cushions.

At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Neteyam’s hands running over you, stroking your sides and clutching your neck and squeezing your ass.

“Hah,” You gasp out when Neteyam’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you’re embarrassingly wet already, just from a little kissing.

Fuck, he’s a good kisser. That’s so annoying.

You run out of breath too fast, and you have to gasp. Neteyam breaks the kiss for barely even a second, and shifts some of his weight to his elbows as he follows you down onto the couch, nuzzling and nipping at your jaw before returning to your mouth.

There’s a hand on either side of your head during that blink-and-you-miss-it break in the kiss, but then he moves his big hands to hold onto your face like they’re afraid you’ll escape, and now they don’t want to let go at all. One of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther back, deeper into the couch, opening you up. You think about the fact that he can thread his fingers together behind your head with his palms pressed to your cheeks and nearly moan like a whore into his mouth.

Neteyam’s eagerness surprises you. The kiss is messy and graceless and airless and greedy, frantic and full of teeth, and you can only roll your hips in reflex, in mindless desperation, in a feeble attempt to buck, your mind repeating a refrain of yes holy shit holy shit YES. You can’t even squirm, because holy hot fuck Neteyam is heavy, and he’s got every inch of you covered and owned.

God, have you always been this easy? Just kiss you, feel you up a little and want you enough and you’ll end up happily whimpering under someone on the couch? Even someone like Neteyam, who you’ve been so resentful of for so long?

You spread your thighs, and Neteyam’s narrow hips slot into place like a damn puzzle piece. Neteyam hums a small laugh and pauses, pulls back an inch or so, gazing steadily at your lips and smoothing the tips of his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbones. He takes a moment to fumble with his respirator and takes a deep breath before dropping it and leaning down to kiss you again.

“Oh, fuck.” You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut when his hips roll fluidly against you.

You pull back from the kiss, just enough to get a look at his face. His eyes are a little clouded, his lips puffy and spit-slicked. He looks dazed, and there's a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths together. His brow scrunches in a frown, as though you pulling away from him is a personal offence.

Oh god, you think. I'm so fucked.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek releases you, slides down your body as well. Your breath hitches when he passes over your breasts, drags down the plush skin of your belly, before reaching in between your thighs to cup at your pussy over your clothes. His hand tightens, grabbing you. Cunt, pubic bone, the whole shebang, all of it right there in the palm of Neteyam’s shockingly big hand.

“Bedroom.” You gasp, your head spinning as he just holds your cunt over your denim shorts. “Bedroom now.”

Neteyam grins, and wraps his arms around your waist to haul you into his arms before he lifts you off the couch and practically staggers down the hall. His excitement surprises you, and you cling to his neck as he ducks his way through the corridor.

Mercifully the outpost is quiet today, with most of its human occupants out in the forest or in the village – that means there’s no one around the witness the sight of Neteyam’s enormous blue ass squeezing himself in through the small doorway of the closet-like bedroom you’d claimed for yourself, with you dangling from his arms like a doll.

You’re still breathing hard when Neteyam clumsily gets the door shut before placing you on your squeaky old bed, following you down on it. He’s careful not to crush you with the bulk of his body, instead resting his weight on his forearms where they’re planted on either side of your head.

The consideration makes something squirm in your belly, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers at the back of his head and pull him down to resume kissing him.

Neteyam rolls his hips into yours, and you can feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into the seam of your shorts, right over your clit. The sound you make is absolutely humiliating, and you will deny ever making it until your last breath, but you twitch as you try to catch that exact same friction again.

And fuck, kissing like this may be new to you, but you never want to stop. You didn’t even know that kissing with tongue could feel so erotic; Neteyam’s hands are on your face again, angling you this way and that way and however the fuck Neteyam feels like angling you, and goddamn he must be doing it just because he can.

You try desperately to remember any little kissing tricks you’ve learned and draw a pathetic blank. Luckily, Neteyam seems intent on showing off. His creativity is more than enough to occupy you both, and you’re too busy being excruciatingly horny to really be self-conscious anyway.

Besides, your next exhale is a chest-rattling groan, and if Neteyam’s immediate grunt of approval and slow thirsty grind against your trapped body is any indication, then you're doing just fine by his standards.

But then, to your absolute distress, Neteyam pulls away.

“Hhh — Shit! Shit, hang on. Shit.” Neteyam hisses, turning his face away and levering himself up on his arms. He’s breathing hard, and the sound of the English curse words falling out of his mouth in that strained tone of voice has your thighs squeezing together pathetically.

“What?” You ask, your voice sounding dazed and stupid even to your own ears.

Neteyam huffs out a few centering breaths and then shakes out his head to clear it. He fumbles for the respirator, takes several deep gulps of air before dropping it again. He angles his hips away from you for a moment, breathing steadily.

“Why’d you stop?” You hate the way the words come out as a whine; you feel as though you’re losing your mind, as though you’re actually going to die if he doesn’t keep kissing you.

Neteyam breathes out a quiet laugh, sounding a little disbelieving as he drops his forehead down to rest on your shoulder.

“Fuck.” He whispers, but he doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he pushes himself down your body, sliding between your legs.

When he tugs your shorts, you lift your hips eagerly to help him shuck your pants off. As he’s tugging at your panties, you work on yanking your oversized pyjama shirt off you. It feels as though the two of you are descending into a frenzy, touching and kissing and tearing at each other like animals.

When you’re naked beneath him you shiver, staring up at him in eager anticipation. You wait for him to come back up and kiss you, to take his own loincloth off and stick his cock into you, but he doesn’t. Instead, his head bullies its way in between your thighs.

“No,” You whine, making a face. You don’t want him to waste time with eating you out when you’re ready now. “Just put it in.”

Neteyam shoots you a reproachful look as though he thinks you’re acting crazy. “You said you would let me please you.”

“But–” You frown, feeling a little ridiculous for having this conversation when his big head is blinking up at you from between the pudge of your thighs. “You don’t have to. I don’t enjoy getting head all that much anyway.”

But instead of changing his mind, that just makes him snort as though you’d told a damn joke.

“Let me show you, syulang.” He whispers, turning his head and brushing his lip over the soft skin of your inner thigh. He kisses you there, and then sucks a hickey-like bruise into the squidge there.

And damn, you can’t turn him down.

“Fine.” You sigh, a little irritated, and spread your legs wider so that Neteyam can muscle his way in.

He grins as if he knows something you don’t, grabs your legs and pulls them so your thighs are hanging off his big broad shoulders. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over you between your legs, and you prepare to lie back and let him lick you down there until he deems you’re wet enough to start fucking you properly.

But then he actually gets his mouth on you, and… oh. Oh.

You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. That feels… better than you had expected, actually.

Each of Neteyam’s movements are calculated, precise. He laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks. You nearly yelp, but manage to tamp down on your reaction and merely wheeze instead. Neteyam points his tongue and presses inside of you, sucks and licks like he’s actually eating something. At one point, he even bites, and you jerk so hard that you accidentally grind against his face.

It’s not like any of the head you have ever received. You’ve enjoyed it before, sure, but it’s never felt like this, and it’s definitely never made you come. And yet, to your honest surprise, you can feel a familiar coil of tension beginning to build deep in your abdomen.

“Oh god.” You breathe, sounding a little bewildered.

You feel his tongue against your clit again, hardly noticing that his hands are gripping at your ass until he yanks you forward as he buries his whole damn face between your legs. His fingers return, delving into you, deep and searching. His mouth works against your clit and it feels like you’re being squeezed between the kinds of pleasure, worshipped and wrung out and attacked all at once.

“Neteyam,” You gasp like a fool. “Oh, what the fuck, it– Neteyam, hang on, it’s too–”

Neteyam is still devouring you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out. You try to clench your thighs around his head as he laps at you like a man starved, but his hands are still on your thighs, locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him, and you can hardly breath because every time you think to try and take a breath his tongue is moving over your clit again and he’s sucking against you.

Your head swims, and you wonder why on earth you had been so resistant to allow him to make you feel good like this. Fuck, have you just been getting really bad head this whole time? You didn’t even know it could feel like this.

Your heels are digging into his back, and the closer he brings you to the edge the harder your thighs clamp around his head. He barely seems to notice the force you’re exerting, merely groaning to himself everytime you squeeze tighter.

Your thoughts splinter and unravel, and you can do nothing but buck uselessly against his hold, desperately chasing more of his lips and his tongue.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” You chant, eyes squeezed shut tight as you whine.

He's just so good with his tongue, and you’ve never felt like this in your life. It feels as though you can't breathe properly, as though you’re melting from the inside out. None of those awkward, fumbling sexual encounters with those other Na’vi ever had you feeling like this.

Your breasts are heaving with the effort it takes just to breathe through the white hot pleasure crashing through you, and you stare down at him with wide eyes as he suckles again at your clit. When he sees you looking down at him, he throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you.

You let out a helpless, gasping laugh at him, your hands clenching compulsively in his braids. Your giggle has him pulling back a little so he can look up at you properly; the grin he shoots you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks dopey and happy.

You manage one word, on a long and broken moan- “Please!”

Neteyam laughs quietly, the sound vibrating through his lips and into your pussy, but then his tongue is on your clit again, sucking you into his mouth, and you’re shattering around him as he finally pushed you over that edge you’ve been teetering on.

You keen and shake violently, spasming around Neteyam’s fingers and jerking into his mouth, coming so hard that you see black spots in your vision. Neteyam doesn’t let up, pulling broken moans out of you with tongue until you’re writhing.

You squirm and whimper until suddenly it’s too damn much, and then you’re reaching down to push at Neteyam’s neat braids to try to get away from his relentless tongue. Damn, he’s acting like he’s hungry for you, like he’d swallow you whole if he could. He doesn’t let up until you’re begging him to, albeit wordlessly — whimpering and shoving at his face, trying to arch away from the too-sensitive touch.

Finally, Neteyam relents. He lowers your legs from his shoulders and you practically crumple, going limp against your mattress. Neteyam’s face is wet and shiny, and he looks ridiculously smug. You’re still trembling, throbbing with the aftershocks.

“Mm, you sound so pretty.” Neteyam murmurs, his words coming out muffled and almost slurred as though he’s drunk.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.

Neteyam hums, pressing kisses all over your pubic mound and lower belly. He seems so damn pleased with himself, pushing himself up your body so that he can nuzzle into your neck, pressing sweet nipping kisses to your throat.

His breathing is a little strained, and you grab blindly at the respirator hanging around his neck before bringing the mask up to his face.

“Breathe, Neteyam.” You gasp out, still a little breathless yourself.

He grunts, as though irritated over something of secondary importance, and takes a couple of deep breaths before dropping the mask again. His pupils are blown so wide that his iris is barely visible, just a thin ring of gold around a pool of black.

You laugh, panting and overwhelmed at the sight of his shiny face, and reach up to wipe his slick face with the palms of your hands. He huffs a quiet laugh of his own, turning his face towards your hands and nuzzling against you like an oversized cat.

“That was… that was better than I expected.” You say, still struggling to collect yourself.

Neteyam’s smile turns a little sly, his teeth flashing as he kisses at your palms. “Impressed?”

And you can’t help but laugh at that, feeling as though this whole situation is spinning around far beyond your wildest imagination. Fuck, he’s really giving his all to this, just to prove to you that he’s superior to the other men of the clan.

“Not yet.” You whisper, biting your lip and hoping that he takes it as the challenge/invitation you mean it to be.

And luckily he does, his smile only growing.

“I should keep going then.” He murmurs, his hands stroking up your sides.

He gently caresses both breasts, a little knead of big, rough hands that can cover much more than just one tit and you love it. Your back arches as you shiver, revelling in how bizarrely gentle he’s being with you.

“Yes,” You whisper eagerly, your legs spreading further until the muscles of your inner thighs are burning with the strain of it. “You definitely should.”

You reach out to tug at the band of his loincloth, your fingers actually trembling a little as you try to unknot it at the sides. Neteyam’s own breath hitches, and his much more nimble fingers reach to help you untie it and draw it away.

And fuck, now he’s naked too. You sit up eagerly, peering down between your bodies to try and catch a look at him properly. You may have touched him that day in the healing hut, but it’s completely different seeing him.

He’s big. So big. All the Na’vi are big when compared to you, of course, but this just… it feels different, because this is Neteyam. His cock is the same pretty blue shade as the rest of him, decorated with darker stripes and pretty glowing tanhì. Your heart thumps recklessly at sight of it twitching towards his belly, and you reach out towards it eagerly.

Your small fingers wrap around the hard length of him — he’s too thick for you to comfortably hold in one hand, but that doesn’t seem to matter because he groans appreciatively anyway when you run your fingers down his length and then back up, feeling warm and sticky precome gushing from the tip to coat your fingers.

“Ah!” Neteyam groans breathily, his hips rocking as your hand slides up the long, velvety length of him. “Fuck… so good.”

You feel like you’re burning up, your skin sweat-slick and far too hot. The weight of his cock in your hand has your head spinning; you want him inside of you, stretching you wide and fucking you deep. If he fucks as good as he eats pussy, you feel like you’re in for a very good time.

“C’mon,” You breathe, writhing a little. “You– you promised me that you’d.. That you would…”

“Mm, I promised I’d make you feel better than Txetyo ever could,” Neteyam finishes for you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You like ‘em big and stupid, huh? That’s why they can’t please you, syulang.”

You toss your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his sharp canines drag over the sensitive skin at the side of your throat. Fuck, maybe he’s right. None of those guys have ever made you feel this good before; you don’t think you’ve ever been this slick and eager in your whole life.

“God, you have such a big head,” You huff, quivering. “Maybe you’re big and stupid too.”

He just laughs at that, a dark chuckle that has your nerves buzzing, and leans down to nip at your shoulder hard enough to make you jerk beneath him. “I am not like Txetyo, or Art’alak, or Pewalsku, or Urtiltey.”

You scoff, before reaching up to push hard at his shoulders. You’re not actually strong enough to shift him, but he pulls back obediently, falling back to lay on his back on the bed. You rise up on your knees then, looming over him as he lays flat.

The way Neteyam is looking up at you, it’s like he’s seeing god. If he could worship you with just a look alone, he is. It’s a little overwhelming, and you feel something deep in your stomach knot just at the sight of him looking at you like that.

“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to grip at your hips, guiding you into straddling his lap.

You don’t think anyone has ever talked to you like this, or looked at you like this. You hardly know what to do in the face of his attention, so you revert to what you’re familiar with; you settle yourself against his lap and grind there, feeling the length of his cock glide along the seam of your cunt.

It feels as though your belly has been set alight, and you take a slow breath as you rock against him. His lips drag from the base of your throat up the length of your neck, then he nips gently at the hinge of your jaw. The softness of his breath against the sensitive skin of your throat elicits a shiver from you, and Neteyam’s hands pull you closer when he feels your reaction.

You make a soft sound against his mouth when his fingers clench tight around your hips. His hold on you encourages you to grind down against him. It's not as though you really need the encouragement, but the way his eyes darken as he stares up at you is enough motivation for you to tilt your hips and grind down just like he wants you to.

"Fuck." He breathes, his eyes going half-lidded as he tilts his head back against your bed to watch you move above him.

Heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over Neteyam as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system; it feels as though you just can't get close enough to him.

Your patience runs out, unable to keep up the teasing; Neteyam seems to feel much the same. When you raise yourself up, chest heaving, Neteyam grabs at his cock and holds it still to allow you to settle against it, the head notched against your entrance. He glides over the opening again, pressing in the barest amount. You can already tell it’s going to be a stretch. Neteyam is thick, and you want it in you, want to feel it pressing you open.

You clench around the head of his cock, trying to pull him in, and Neyeyam groans.

“You’re—” He starts to say, his big hands clutching at your hips. “Shit. You’re tighter than I even imagined, paskalin.”

The idea that he might have imagined this is almost more than you can take, and you surge forward to kiss him again, your mouths clashing clumsily.

“You—you thought about it?” You manage to say, your words coming out a little muffled as he sucks at your lower lip.

He just rumbles a laugh, as though your question is ridiculous, and doesn’t even bother answering. Instead he places one hand securely under your ass, the other adjusting himself—there’s a short, sharp burst of pain as you felt him start to push in, just the tip and your head is spinning. Your nails are digging into his shoulders but if he feels anything it doesn’t show.

He kisses your cheek and then pushes in a little deeper as his mouth falls to yours once more—swallowing up your sharp cry as another inch sinks into you, and you feel like you’re splitting open.

Fuck, you feel as though not grabbing lube was probably a mistake; you were too cocky, too confident in your ability to take him, so sure that he’d be as adequately satisfactory as the other Na’vi men you’ve been with.

He goes in and in and in, pressing farther into you than you even thought was possible. The stretch and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him. His mouth is open, each breath escaping him quickly, and you can see your own amazement reflected back to you on Neteyam’s face.

You dig your nails into his shoulders to offset the pain radiating through your core as he shoves himself deeper into you, chased by another wave of warmth as his free hand move between you, thumb settling gently over your clit.

“Ohmygod,” You gasp, pleasure mixing with that burning ache. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Ungh..” Neteyam groans into you shoulder as he rocks another inch into you, until you’re sobbing and moaning by turns. “Oh. Fuck. Txetyo didn’t deserve this, syulang. Didn’t know what to do with you.”

You whimper in his grip as he just holds you there, buried to the hilt, thumb still working at your clit and sending frissons of electricity up and down your spine.

“Feels good,” You slur. “You feel good.”

Neteyam pulls out half an inch and fucks back into you from below, making your breath hitch. “Yeah?”

“So big,” You gasp. “I-I want—"

“I know, I know. I’ve got you,” Neteyam rumbles, his full lips brushing gentle kisses over your temple, right in your hairline. “Take what you want, lovely girl.”

And you do, rocking your hips and taking one of his enormous hands to pull between your legs so he can continue to rub at your clit with his fingers, so he can feel all the ways you’re leaking onto him as you lean forward to run your own hungry mouth along his collarbone, his pecs, as your hands grip his shoulders to try and lift yourself up and onto him over and over again.

It doesn’t take long for that coil in your belly to swell, sweet and hot. It’s as if Neteyam is intimately familiar with the way you want him to rub your clit, how you want it pinched but only just so between two fingers, as if he’s been taking fucking notes all those times he had walked in and interrupted you. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling and squeezing impossibly tight around him, taut like a violin string.

It’s like Neteyam is puncturing your lungs, and every time he fucks into you, you respond with stupid sounding little ‘ah’ sounds.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You gasp, teary-eyed and desperate. Neteyam’s mouth is parted, his eyes wide. They flick over you quickly, drinking you in as you ride him.

Your movements are slow to build, but gradually you establish a steady, desperate rocking. It doesn't take long for you to realise that grinding in his lap feels better than raising yourself all the way up and down. Distantly, you feel little guilty — you know that grinding and rocking in his lap in the way that you are feels better for you than it does for Neteyam, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's watching you with a rapturous expression, his arms urging you closer so that your sweat-slicked chests are pressed close together and your foreheads are resting against each other.

You find a rhythm that both satisfies and stokes you, riding him with abandon as your thighs clench tight around his narrow hips. Neteyam’s hands slide from your hips down over your lower back, worshipful as they drift lower to clutch at your ass and use his grip there to help lift you up and down.

You ride him with mindless intent. His fingers dig at the meat of your ass, his mouth dropped softly open as he fights to keep his own breaths even — it takes a long moment for you to realise that he's fighting to keep himself still and to stop himself from thrusting wildly into you. His restraint and the realisation that he's really allowing you to have all the power in the exchange strikes you hard. You’ve never felt any real sense of agency in sexual intimacy until now, and the realisation that he's being so considerate of how you’re feeling only contributes to the intensifying of those flutters in your belly.

The rush builds in you, relentless, mounting with every jerk of your hips. There would be no catching your breath until it broke.

You rock on him, hard, hard and fast and there, there it is, that’s it — that perfect deep unfurling. A moan rises from the depths of your chest as you gasp at it, your body trembling. Neteyam just stares up at you, mouth open, eyes gone wide and dark.

The wave crests, the world explodes around you, a kaleidoscope of sensation as you come undone in his arms, trembling even as he keeps sliding home into you. You keep moving over him through the ebb of it, through the helpless little sounds that break from his throat. You’re still shuddering when he reaches up to take a firm hold of your waist. As though he can't help himself, his hips thrust up into you.

“Yes,” Neteyam hisses, his flat nose all scrunched up in a feral sort of pleasure. “That’s my girl.”

You tremble, gasp-moaning as your joints turn to jelly. Your orgasm very slowly gives way to thunderous aftershocks that rocket through your body every few seconds, shuddering your whole frame in intervals.

"Fuck," He groans, his breathing gone ragged. "I'm going to-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before he seems to lose some of that iron control he's been exerting; his hips jolt up into you, and then again, until he's thrusting up into you with a sense of urgency that's almost breath-taking. All you can do is cling onto his hair and bury your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to muffle the embarrassing little gasping sounds that you’re making into his skin as his fucking into you prolongs the breath-taking pleasure of your orgasm.

You don’t fuss when his big hands use his grip on your ass to lift you up himself, fucking up into you and letting loose. Then he's shaking, stilling, spilling himself inside you, and you watch eagerly as his face goes slack and relaxed.

You don't go still immediately. Your hips keep rolling slow and steady as you tremble against him, chasing that feeling of molten shivery pleasure that's still burning in your belly even as it starts to turn into almost unbearable oversensitivity. It's not a fully conscious movement, as you’re moving mostly on instinct, and after a few moments Neteyam takes a hold of your hips to slow you to a stop.

He stays inside you like this for what feels like an eternity, spent and nestled deep inside you as you sit in his lap, slumped against his large strong chest.

"Oh my god," You whisper eventually as another pleasant shudder jolts down your spine. It feels as though you’ve been kicked in the chest, as though the breath has been knocked out of you entirely to make room for the lovely floaty lightness that's beginning to fill the space between your ribcage”

"Mm." Neteyam hums quietly, his fingers tightening in the soft flesh of your hips as he tilts his chin up to brush his lips over your sweaty temple. "Alright?”

No, You think, with no small amount of panic. You’re absolutely not alright. Neteyam may have just been fucking you to prove a point, because it’s always been so important to him that he’s perfect at everything he tries his hand at, but it feels as though he’s just cracked you wide open. You don’t think anyone will ever make you feel as good as he just did.

When you don’t immediately answer, one of his big palms cups the back of your neck so he can tilt your head back, and he leans down to kiss you again. He sucks your swollen bottom lip into his mouth so he can worry at it while you whine, toes curled where you tucked them under your legs, balanced on his thighs.

"Impressed?” He murmurs into your ear, his warm, dry hands stroking soothingly over your sweat-dampened skin.

You laugh despite yourself, and it comes out breathless and broken. “Fuck. I—yeah. Yeah. I’m impressed. Asshole.”

Neteyam’s expression brightens, his ears twitch back as his smile grows. He leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, then three times in quick succession, and out of the corner of your eye you see his tail coiling lazily against your sheets.

“Feel like I need to lay down,” You say. “For a week maybe.”

Neteyam just chuckles as you slowly lift your hips; when Neteyam slides out of you a soft sound of loss escapes from his mouth. You sympathise — you feel uncomfortably empty now that he's no longer nestled inside of you, but Neteyam is already gathering you into his arms and flopping back onto your mattress with you all curled up ontop of his chest.

It all feels so natural — you’ve never cuddled after intimacy like this, and you never would have imagined that Neteyam would allow you to do this. But it seems like he craves physical touch as badly as you does, because it feels as though his hands are everywhere as he holds you.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, dickhead." You grumble, though you’re already relaxing under the pleasant warm weight of his hands

Neteyam’s smile only grows. "Why shouldn't I be pleased with myself? Have I left you unsatisfied?

You groan loudly, before burying your face in the pillow. The worst part is that it's true — you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life. You think that you could close your eyes and cheerfully float away on a cloud, but you don't want to suffer the humiliation of admitting that.

“I’m satisfied.” You admit, mortified. “It— yeah. You won that stupid competition. Well done.”

That has exactly the effect you had expected it to have; Neteyam’s chest puffs up where you’re laying across it, his eyes crinkling up as he grins. God, he’s so fucking smug.

You manage to swallow down your embarrassment so that you can ask the question that’s been knocking around your head since the first time he had kissed you.

“Can we… do that again, sometime?” You mutter, keeping your face pressed into his chest so he can’t see the vulnerability on your face.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, and his large palm settles between your shoulderblades.

“Whenever you want, yawntutsyìp. We have all the time in the world.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Where ever you want. Here, the forest, my hut in the village—”

You laugh, blinking in surprise at his eagerness. You guess he must be absolutely pussy-whipped right now, which is pretty sweet.

“Next time we mate, we’ll do it in the forest so Txetyo can find us.” He says, and you can feel his teeth against the top of your head when he grins. “Let him watch as I make you scream again.”

"I did not scream!" You snap, embarrassed, reaching to smack at his chest. But then his words actually parse in your head, and you push yourself up quickly on top of his chest so you can look down at him, wincing a little at the ache between your legs.

Neteyam obviously catches your wince because he frowns and one of his hands reaches for your thigh, but you grab at his wrist as you gape at him.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You blurt.

That must have been a slip of his tongue. Every man you’ve been with before has been so damn careful to avoid the term mating, obviously terrified of you somehow getting the wrong idea; they made it painfully clear that it was just fucking, with no strings attached, because you were small and exotic and apparently the tightest thing they’ve ever gotten to put their dicks into.

Neteyam blinks owlishly, as though confused by your response. “What?” He asks, before his face relaxes. “Ah, it’s only the thought of me watching that does it for you?”

“No, it—” You blink at him. “You said… you said next time we… we mate.”

“Yes.” He says, wrapping one big arm around your waist to tug you back to him, as though he doesn’t like the fact that you’re shifting away. “I enjoyed mating here, where I can kiss your face, but it is very...”

He pauses then, and glances around your room. For the first time, you see it through his eyes; it’s small and dingy, the electric lights buzzing and flickering as they run on the ancient generator that Norm and a couple of the other older scientists had dragged from Bridgehead. Even though he’s gotten comfortable cuddling you on your bed, it’s far too small for him; his legs are hanging off the end of it, his feet flat against the floor. Compared to the fantastical natural homes of the Na’vi, your little bedroom seems like a shithole.

“You will be more comfortable in my hut in the village.” Neteyam says decisively, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his chest again. “I wish to take you in the forest, at Vitrautral, as is tradition.”

“Mating.” You repeat, just to check if you had heard him right. “We—that was mating.”

“Mhmm.” Neteyam’s hum sounds casual enough, but you can see the ridiculously pleased wave of his tail in the air behind him. “I told you that you were wasting time with those skxawngs, but I did not mind waiting for you. I did not like hearing them talk about you, about how you felt and how they pleased you, but… I knew I could prove myself a better prospect than all of them.”

“But—” You’re still struggling with this, staring at him with a bewildered expression. “But it—that was sex. It wasn’t—”

“I will take you to Vitrautral tomorrow, and mate you properly,” Neteyam murmurs, and you feel his big chest rumble beneath you in a pleased purr at the idea. “You do not need any other now. Yes?”

It feels almost too good to be true. Almost. Because damn, you want that so badly that it actually aches. After so many years of craving intimacy of any kind, it seems shockingly unlikely that it’s being offered by Neteyam, the very personification of an Omaticayan golden child. How have you gone from getting fucking in empty corners and deep in the forest to having the Olo’eyktan’s son talk about mating you?

You think of the herbs and plants he always brings to the healing hut, the bones and fibres he forages, the food he brings you after hunts. You had always thought he was just shoving how great he was in your face, but now all of that is starting to rearrange itself inside your head. Was he seriously just trying to impress you?

You laugh a little disbelievingly, and Neteyam’s arm tightens around you.

“I have a necklace,” He murmurs, nuzzling against your forehead. “Made with freshwater pearls from the ocean. I was going to give it to you earlier but—we got distracted. It is in my tewng—”

“Get it later,” You whisper, clinging to his chest. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move, just in case the moment slips away forever. He made you a necklace. Fuck, he made you a necklace! You’ve only ever seen Na’vi mating gifts from a distance; the thought of receiving one is beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.

Neteyam’s chest seems to swell, his expression brightening the moment you cling to him. He hugs you close, his purr now reminiscent of a damn chainsaw as he curls his whole big body around you.

Taking a chance, you do something that you’ve always sort of wanted to do, ever since you found out what it was; you reach behind him and take his kuru in your hand, feeling the thick, glossy protective braid in your fingers.

Neteyam shudders under you, his rumbling purr stuttering a little as his eyelids flitter, his eyes going dark. He doesn’t stop you, watching you with lightly parted lips as your hand closes around the most sacred, sensitive part of him.

“This is okay?” You whisper, your vulnerability clear in your voice.

“Of course,” He whispers back, as though the moment is a soap bubble that could burst at a slightly raised voice. “It is yours, syulang.”

Emboldened, you drag your fist down the glossy braid until you reach the end, where the glowing tendrils that make up the exposed manifestation of his nervous system. The fleshy pink tendrils writhe in the air, and you watch in eager amazement. You’ve only ever seen diagrams of this part of the Na’vi anatomy, and you want so badly to touch it.

“You can play with it all you want,” Neteyam murmurs, and his voice is breathless.

You breathe a laugh, glancing up at him with a little grin. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving. You want to gnaw on his ribs, swallow him whole; he’s so cute.

“I’ll save that for tomorrow,” You whisper, the words ringing like a promise.

Neteyam looks briefly disappointed, before his mood is promptly buoyed at the thought of mating you again at the Tree of Souls, as he had promised you. He buries his face happily in your neck as you pet absently at the protective braid covering his kuru. It’s a non-sexual touch, and yet he goes entirely boneless, purring up a storm as you stroke your hand over it.

“Told you those others could not please you, paskalin,” He murmurs, his words slurring a little as his eyelids flutter with every soft touch to his kuru. “Told you they did not know what to do with you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the fond smile pulling at your mouth.

“Mm. You did. Guess I needed someone like you, huh? A mighty warrior?” You say, teasing him with that silly little nickname he always called himself when you were a teenager. At the time you had thought he was so annoying, but now, looking back… you’re willing to admit it was pretty adorable.

Neteyam’s drowsy face pulls up in a sweet smile, his flat nose brushing against your collarbones. It seems like he’s pleased you remembered, or maybe he’s pleased that you’re impressed with him.

He kisses your neck, then mumbles sleepily, “The mightiest.”

[orellazalonia]

Infected by the Chaos

Summary: Overtime, your questionable tendencies and unpredictable phrases have rubbed off onto your boyfriend. The team reacts by trying their best to un-corrupt the supersoldier. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: Thank you to @ozwriterchick for the idea. Enjoy and Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

There was a debriefing. The usual boring, long, and necessary meeting. Everyone sat around the conference table looking various degrees of irritated.

You were leaning back in your chair, chewing gum, spinning a pen between your fingers, and mentally ranking everyone’s haircuts from “tragic” to “god-tier.” (Sam had climbed two spots today.)

Steve was talking, bless him, but honestly, your brain had already turned into a screensaver.

“-and next time, we need tighter communication. Nat, cover the north entrance. Sam, recon from above. And you two,” He gestured at you and Bucky. “Try not to burn the entire building down next time.”

You opened your mouth, probably to say something deeply unhelpful and not at all relevant but then it happened.

Bucky got there first.

Deadpan, casual, and not even glancing up from his notepad, he muttered:

“I don’t control the fire. The fire controls me.”

The room went silent.

Sam slowly turned his head. “What.”

Nat blinked. “I’m sorry- Did Barnes just say that?”

Steve dropped his tablet. You were staring at him like he’d just told you he was pregnant with a spider-dog hybrid.

Bucky glanced up with a shrug. “What? It’s true.”

“No, no, no, back up.” You stood, pointing at him. “That’s my level of chaos. You don’t get to say things like that with a straight face. That’s my thing.”

“Pretty sure I’ve earned chaos privileges by now,” He said in an even tone, biting into an apple.

Nat coughed. “What else have you been saying lately?”

You whirled on Bucky. “You didn’t even flinch. You said it like a man who has absolutely Googled whether rats can legally vote.”

Bucky smirked. “I have due to our last date. They can’t yet.”

Sam slid down in his chair. “Oh god, there’s two of them now.”

Tony, who had joined the meeting late with a coffee and zero patience, looked between you and Bucky. “I always knew one of you was a bad influence. I just didn’t expect it to be her.”

“I resent that,” You said.

“I expected more from you, Barnes,” Tony replied.

Steve looked like he was having a mild stroke. “I spent a decade dragging him out of assassin mode and you…you-“ He pointed at you with all the drama of a soap opera actor. “You corrupted him.”

You crossed your arms. “Excuse me, I elevated him. You think he’d even know what a possum rave is without me?”

“Wait,” Bucky said, serious again. “That’s real?”

“Unfortunately,” Sam muttered.

Bucky turned to you. “Do you think we could-“

“No,” Steve and Sam said in unison.

Later that night, you and Bucky were sitting on the roof, feet dangling over the ledge, and watching the stars while splitting a packet of strawberry Pop-Tarts.

You nudged him with your shoulder. “You really said it, huh?”

He smirked. “It just came out.”

“And the fire controls you?”

He looked at you with something soft and proud in his eyes. “Maybe I’ve just been spending too much time with my favorite disaster.”

You grinned and leaned into his side. “Next step: getting you to name a pigeon.”

“Already done. His name’s Charles. He watched us fight three agents yesterday.”

You gasped. “You’re perfect.”

“I know,” Bucky said. “You trained me well.”

-

As time passed, Bucky was the problem now.

At first, the team found it endearing. The grumpy super soldier smiling at dumb jokes, randomly throwing out facts about duck mating rituals, or muttering “vibe check failed” after knocking someone out. In some strange way, it was charming. Odd, but charming.

But then he named a second pigeon. And that was the last straw.

“We need to intervene,” Natasha said, deadly serious with her arms folded as she stood at the head of the war room table.

“Why?” Bucky asked, mid-bite of a toaster strudel. “Charles Junior likes me.”

“Exactly,” Tony said, pointing dramatically. “The fact that you’re calling it Charles Junior is the problem.”

“I don’t see the issue,” You said from your seat next to Bucky, proudly wearing your ‘#1 Chaos Hero’ necklace again. “It’s genetic. Charles Prime had strong leader energy.”

Steve looked between you both like he was watching two people fall off a moral cliff in slow motion. “You used to be a soldier.”

“He is a soldier,” You said. “He just also knows five ways to make banana bread ”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “Just don’t over-mix the batter.”

Tony facepalmed. “Nope. This is a brain rot virus, and you’re patient zero.”

You smiled sweetly. “Thank you.”

“I wasn’t complimenting you.”

“Still taking it that way.”

Natasha, still painfully calm, pulled out a folder labeled “OPERATION: WINTER DETOX.”

“Oh no,” Bucky muttered.

“Yes,” She said. “We're deprogramming the chaos out of you. We're doing it for the safety of the building, and also the pigeons.”

-

During phase one, you were banned from interacting with Bucky for 48 hours. No comms. No breakfast together. No late-night feral cuddling where you told him shark facts until he passed out.

You broke the rule in 6 minutes.

Literally. You broke into the vent system and dropped into his room from the ceiling like some kind of gremlin god.

“Did you know octopuses have nine brains?”

Bucky looked up from his book, deadpan. “I do now.”

When Sam burst in to yell at you, he found Bucky trying to braid your hair while you explained the 36 reasons flamingos are both cursed and divine.

Sam left with his soul cracked in half.

Phase two didn’t end much better either. They tried re-soldiering him. Military documentaries. Physical training drills. A six-hour silent stare-off with Steve.

You showed up with a whiteboard that said “Today’s Mission: Turn Bucky Into a Lizard.”

Steve had to lock you out of the room and block your contact from Bucky’s phone for two hours.

By phase three, the team tried pairing Bucky with other Avengers. Nat. Rhodey. Bruce.

Each one ended up slightly more unhinged than when they started.

Bruce now exclusively drinks out of a cup shaped like a frog. Nat started saying “mood” unironically. Rhodey got a ferret and named it “Mini War Machine.”

“Do you see what you’ve done?” Steve begged one night as you and Bucky made soup in the communal kitchen while retelling an episode of River Monsters using only metaphors and curse words.

“I made the team fun,” You said, stabbing a ladle toward him.

Bucky beamed. “They laugh more now. And I haven’t threatened to murder anyone in two weeks.”

Tony nodded slowly. “He’s not wrong. Still terrifying, but now it’s… unpredictable terrifying.”

The breaking point came the next morning. Bucky walked into the briefing room wearing a shirt that said: “Emotionally Stable is a Strong Word”

You wore one that said: “I Know the Assignment. I Am Choosing to Ignore It.”

Steve stood then walked out muttering something about moving to Wakanda.

The team officially gave up trying to fix Bucky Barnes.

-

Later that night, Bucky was lying beside you, watching the stars again as the city hummed below.

“They really think I’m broken now,” He said.

You shrugged, twirling a glow stick between your fingers. “They just don’t know how to handle dual-wielding emotional repression and chaotic brilliance.”

He turned to you, smiling. “You really think it’s brilliance?”

You kissed his cheek. “Obviously. I don’t waste my time on mediocrity. Now help me build a pigeon obstacle course on the balcony.”

He nodded. “It’s what Charles Prime would’ve wanted.”

[furiouskettle]

random Look Outside character headcanons/opinions

(may be incorrect cause ive just been watching playthroughs. going off of the info i got from that which may be missing some parts.)

body horror talk, spoilers from all over the game and ending under the cut.

Sam

I love sam. hes just nice (potentially a pushover) and a dork. HES JUST A GUY!!!! i love that the game gives him time to show you how he’s processing his/your actions?

Really funny to me that him being unemployed is part of the reason he’s the protagonist. Can’t become a monster if you don’t have to go outside.

Am curious why he isn't working at the grocery store (if he did work there). did he leave or get fired?

OW losing an arm has GOTTA HURT. i cast pain upon this man.

his hair is just Like That no matter what he does

Joel

mY SWEET BABY BOYYYY i want to see him grow up big and strong (not too big and strong considering the everything but you get the idea).

looks like he has some form of "vision" post-mutation?? he doesnt seem to have any issue playing video games so i opt that he can “see”, just not very well. it’s short range and fuzzy. might be more of a feeling of his surroundings than real vision? whatever it is, it's good enough to play super jump lad.

I also HC that he’d developed shortsightedness when he had eyes, just that nobody had noticed yet that he’s squinting at things more than he should…

I think his biting/devouring is involuntary when he’s agitated. thankfully it hasn’t come to him biting any friends so far!

get this boy some popsicle sticks to gnaw on. not even for tooth reasons. eight year olds just love chewing on popsicle sticks. (preferably after popsicle has been consumed)

Apart from not fully understanding everything going on due to his age, he seems a bit dazed from the mutation and probably has brain fog for a few days after, which is Definitely not helping sam with the Oh My God this kid doesnt know his parents are dead. OH GOD I KILLED THIS KID'S PARENTS AND I HAVE STOLEN HIM AWAY

oddly chill with losing teeth. has taken some of his baby teeth out by himself! gives joel my childhood trait of oh hey my tooth is wobbling! lemme get rid of that real quick. twist twist twist

Jeanne

i dont have much to say on her atm but she’s lovely and really doesnt deserve what happens to her. on the bright side the worst seems to be over for her?? if she’s still growing does that mean that she’s gonna have to be like “oop a new head’s budding. gotta get someone to lop that off for me before it becomes a problem.”

Lyle

FIRST OF ALL i LOVE how his design kind of references how old cameras had to be covered with fabric so the photo wouldn't fail.

i think he wore glasses when he was human! …the lenses got absorbed into his face. the camera he was holding did too. I think he didn’t own as many cameras as he ended up with. That big one he has seems specific enough that maybe that was the one he was using to snap a sky pic??? idk if he touched any other cameras after that but THAT one has gotta be the one he was holding.

idk if he finds spiders GROSS but he is definitely the kind of person to be afraid to be in the same room as one.

I think most of his legs are telescopic to some degree! he just doesnt see the need to make himself any taller than he already is, except for photography reasons.

reiterating from one of my doodle posts, i like to think his eye lenses shed over time. if you took off the lens early on an eye (via injury) it would have weak vision. built-in glasses!

I hope the soul photo thing is like a special attack thing for him that he has to set up intentionally? it feels mean to have all the photos he takes with his built in cameras be the soul-stealing kind. he does take photos by accident/involuntarily a lot but the one he takes after the kiss with sam is totally on purpose and he absolutely still has that one. concerning.

idk if he gets out of his apartment much during the Visit, but it could be that HE hasnt seen any mutations worse than his/doesnt know that sam has totally seen worse. Hence why he's trying to hide so hard from Sam (not to mention the guy is crushing HARD, he's not gonna wanna be vulnerable in front of him).

....also hideous monster or not hes naked under there. i dont blame him for wanting to stay cloaked

Xaria & Monty

oh god theyre art students. that explains SO much.

very funny to me that xaria heard a voice in her head compelling her to check out the window and decided she’s gonna be contrarian about it.

I imagine a lot of Monty’s projects are setting something on fire. shows up to class with a pile of plastic baby heads. sets them ablaze. the most important part of being an art student is the time honored tradition of bullshitting some sort of meaning that’s gonna satisfy the lecturer.

Probably decent at life drawings but he keeps burning his works. (not to mention realism doesnt appear to be his kind of style)

Xaria feels like she’d stick to slightly more traditional mediums (painting, sculpture)? a lot of surrealism, mixed media, themes of nonconformity and violence. has totally used blood in a project before. More intentional about the meaning of her art- the intention being that she wants to make people uncomfortable.

i think it’d be hilarious if they’d been binging horror movies the night before. funniest options are The Thing and Tetsuo the iron man.

Since Sam mutates into something regardless of what you do up on the roof, i’m guessing the same goes for these two if you bring them up there. cool/nasty idea for their mutation is they fuse into one being... not necessarily an idea im running with atm but fun to think abt anyway

Sybil

AGH, sybil….. i love her. she's just really nice...

I think she’s in some sort of schrödinger’s cat situation - dead and alive until observed. or maybe like a quark (particle that cannot be observed but you can see the effects of it).

it’s unclear if someone ever was next door to you, but if I recall the astronomers tell you there’s no way she’s there? (cant recall if its bc she was “dead” by then or if its the totally wrong floor.)

the game says it was a mystery what happened to sybil, but a potential course of events could be your Real Neighbour just got sucked outta their window same as what happens to you if you look and sybil THINKS shes next door to you.

I’m pretty sure she’s in all of the walls? some of her text implies that, even tho she doesnt seem to be really aware of it.

far as she knows, she's in her apartment. what's her apartment like? well, it's an apartment. it's got walls. she can see out the peephole. there's.... furniture. What else do you want?

(man. between her, the pipe lady, the water pump guy, and the boiler room the walls are CROWDED. no wonder the roaches decide to move to your place.)

The Visitor

what do i even say about it? it is, in the most direct meaning of the word, awesome. it’s unfathomably immense. it's beautiful. it's horrifying. I love that in a single eye out of infinite eyes, it sees a miniscule creature who just wants to live. Sam becomes a smaller reflection of the Visitor, and the visitor gains a fraction of what makes sam human…

I wonder, did the visitor even “exist” until witnessed? same as sybil, maybe it could have some quantum thing going on. i can’t speculate on this any more than the astronomers have.

Sam (ritual-denial)

while it’s the nicest ending possible, i still feel kinda bad for sam :( he can never be truly alone anymore, but at the same time isn’t becoming a giant god-creature kind of isolating? sure, he must grow used to it over time but MAN. WHAT AN ADJUSTMENT.

regardless, it’s nice that he decides to use his new form to take care of the world, and sounds like he probably gets some extra brain capacity to be able to do all the stuff he does. (probably a few extra mini-brains to control the different arm nodes)

I hope he gets to take time for himself too, sometimes. probably sleeps like a dolphin (switch off half the brain for a power nap)

I don't think he can do verbal communication (at least, it's gonna take him a WHILE to figure out how to talk with his feelers) but at least there's keyboards.

also its funny how he gains like a gajillion arms after potentially losing one of two.

also i love the cafe patrons and the mutants at the camp. theyre all so fun. AND MANUEL FUNKY LITTLE DUDE WITH THE JAMS.

i need to find more about the lady with the slasher mask i just know she exists.

@mtgc858 @deafeningfestivalpaper @kasprawn39 @contract-crawdad @goawaypopup @eyessss come get yer headcanons

anyway uhhhhhhh hope you found my rambling fun to read byee

[vaspider]

Spider, can I ask you and your followers for some input in a situation? I want some unbiased opinions, especially from parents of adult kids (bonus if your adult kids are disabled). I've tried to be as unbiased as possible and include both sides. I am aware that you're under no obligation to actually answer, but I'm hoping that if you're not able to provide any input, then one of your followers might be able to.

TLDR at the end.

The context:

Basically, I am an adult in my late 20s. I haven't lived with my parents since they threw me out at 19 for being diagnosed with autism and they were told that I wasn't capable of living independently without years of occupational therapy. I was homeless for 13 months. Like literally two days later, they dropped me off at work, confiscated my house keys, and said to find somewhere else to sleep because I wasn't coming back home. (My parents insist that I wasn't actually homeless because I already had my current job and was able to afford to stay at a youth homeless shelter. I say "what the fuck do you think Homeless Shelter means??") After that, I was able to get a government grant for chronically homeless youth that allowed me to get a room in a student housing complex. It's not dorms, but it works like a dorm. I do have a private room.

My bedroom of my apartment is a mess. My bedroom has always been a mess. I have AuDHD and multiple disabilities, including extreme fatigue so that's not unexpected. During lockdown, it was especially bad. I had to move out of my last apartment in 2021 because one of my roommates was a bigot and my building wanted a new tenet so they could charge more rent, so between the two of them, they forced me out for being a "safety concern" due to the mess (the roommate did things like lie and say I didn't bathe, even though I was literally still wet from the shower). My parents ended up helping me pack up my stuff and move to a new place. I've been here for a few years and my roommates here have always been okay with the mess because it stays confined to my room.

(Also I wrote this at like 5AM and I'm half asleep but I wasn't going to be able to go back to bed until I ask someone unbiased. So please excuse any typos, and I hope everything makes sense and nothing came out as gibberish because sometimes by brain refuses to Word Good.)

The problem:

My mother decided when I moved in that my dad was going to be inspecting my bedroom in order to make sure it's clean. He's been putting her off but she's been on his ass about it for three years so he's finally caved and said that next time he's here to bring me something (I cannot drive due to disabilities), that he would be inspecting my room.

I do not want my room inspected. I've been very clear about that since day one. Yes, my room is a mess, but I'm also a grownass adult. My parents say that since they've given me some money for my rent over the past few years that they're entitled to inspect my room. I say that it's a violation of my autonomy. My room is my safe space. My mother is an obsessively clean person so growing up, my room wasn't really mine, and everything had to be to her standards whether I liked it or not (including things like what color I paint my furniture that I owned).

My parents do not care about my boundaries, and would say that since I've proven incapable in the past (re: because I'm disabled, not that they'd ever admit it), that they're trying to protect me by keeping me from being kicked out again.

I am skeptical about this and believe it's more about controlling me (see: throwing me out for having autism and just generally being extremely controlling my entire life). My parents have refused to stop giving me money for my rent every now and then (I have a job and pay at least the majority of my rent, but there are some months where business is slow and I don't get many hours, and no one wants to hire me because I act Autistic and use a cane) and I end up short. I have resolved to do everything I can to not need their help, including having my sister pick up my prescriptions, in order to avoid my parents coming over and inspecting my room.

Also, my building already does quarterly inspections and they've always been okay with my room, but I know my room won't be to my parents' standards. I don't have any local friends that I could ask for help cleaning up, but like, I'm a Spoonie. I clean my toilet and then have to go lay down because I'm getting dizzy. I am not making much progress myself.

The question:

Are my parents right? Have I shown that I cannot be trusted to keep my room clean, thus entitling them to come inspect it to make sure it's not a mess. They will definitely yell at me and have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if my room is a mess or I refuse to let them inspect it? Or am I right to put my foot down and enforce my boundaries?

Side note, my parents have a history of being abusive and controlling. That's something I had to prove to the government to get my grant. They would insist that it's not abuse. Some of it was quite bad but I'm not going to get into it here.

TLDR:

I'm an adult with disabilities who has my own apartment. My parents think they're entitled to come inspect my room to make sure it's clean. I say that it's my apartment and I say no. They have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if I refuse. Are my parents being unreasonable, or am I the one being unreasonable for refusing?

Your parents have no right to inspect your room. You are an adult. This is your apartment, not theirs. Your mother is wrong. Your parents are being invasive. I think they think they're being reasonable bc they care about your well being, but they aren't respecting your autonomy.

Sometimes, being a parent means you gotta let your kids not do things the way you would or even not do things the way that is best for them. It's hard, but it's necessary.

If you still lived with your parents and your lack of cleanliness was affecting their lives, it might be different ... but this is just your parents being fucking weird.

[cowboylikefaith]

with great power...

art donaldson spiderman! au x reader

summary: stanford has a masked superhero on the loose, and you're trying to crack down on his identity. little do you know, it's your boyfriend art.

warnings: cursing, injuries, reader highkey gets mugged, art is being mysterious af, reader is incredibly oblivious, sappy at the end sorry, not proofread

author's note: HI so this is actually my first time writing a fic ever... but this au idea has been absolutely rotting in my brain for the past week or so and i need to get it out. enjoy!!!!!!

╰🕸️ ₊✧ ﾟ❤️⚬𓂂➢

"dude!" you say barging into art's dorm (not realizing that your poor boyfriend was in the middle of a nap) "look at the topic the newspaper just assigned me. some shithead on campus is doing parkour in a scuba suit, people are calling him 'spiderman'."

art is pulled out of his trance-like state when he hears the name fall out of your mouth. you feel bad after realizing you woke him up, seeing him wipe his tired eyes with a pout on his lips. "hey pretty" he says with a lopsided smirk on his face "what were you talking about? some spider-idiot?" you hop into bed next to him "yeah it's nothing...sorry for waking you up, just go back to bed, 'kay?"

you don't know what's been up with art recently. he rarely returns your calls, he's always tired, and when he's awake, he's either in a rush or incredibly sluggish. you asked patrick about it and he said that the beginning of a new tennis season is wearing both of them down. seems reasonable, right?

now, it's been a few weeks since you were assigned this story, and jess (your senior editor) wants you to photograph and interview this spiderman guy, because apparently he's some kind of campus superhero (returning stolen laptops, helping drunk sorority girls avoid getting hit by cars, the usual) however you have no leads so far.

until one day, tashi tells you a story about how he saved a freshman from the tennis team from being hazed, and you decide to ask your boyfriend about it.

"you don't know anything about a kid named steven mcdonald, do you?" you ask art as you settle down to watch some gossip girl.

"that freshman who survived a hazing incident? yeah, i know of him" he replies as he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead.

you pull away with furrowed eyebrows "well did he...say...anything about that night?"

"uh no. no, not really" he says (a little distantly) "anyway! i seriously don't understand why serena loves dan so much, nate is obviously the better choice for her."

you roll your eyes sarcastically "wow donaldson...really smooth transition! way to change the subject there honey."

"i'm sorry.." he replies as he plays with your hair "it's just that...i don't want you getting mixed up in that kind of stuff. if you got hurt.." he sighs "i don't know what i'd do with myself"

and so you promise art that you'll stop working on the article...until jess says she'll kick you out of the stanford star if you do.

one night, as you're walking back to your dorm after dinner with tashi and patrick (third wheel much?), a man in a black ski mask suddenly approaches you and orders you to put your hands up.

"give me your fucking heels lady...and your purse!" he demands.

"oh god no" you shut your eyes and groan "please sir, these are really expensive and- and these are manolo blahniks!! my mom bought-"

before you can finish your rambling, you can hear a thud, and when open your eyes, you can see that he's been wrapped up in some web-like substance.

"don't worry, he's not dead" a figure says as he walks out from behind the criminal. you feel like you know him, you can't even see his face but something about him is just so familiar, and you can't put your finger on it. until..

oh my god

"oh my god! you're spiderman! thank you so much, seriously. that guy could've killed me" you say excitedly, forgetting about your past opinions about him.

art- i mean spiderman, chuckles and says that it's no problem, and asks if he could take you back to your dorm.

"yeah! i would love that, thank you." you reply "actually, could i take your photo? i'm doing an article about you for the stanford star." oh and art eats it UP. he's doing stupid poses and acting silly and goofy (just to hear you laugh of course).

you get back to your dorm safely, and spiderart bids you farewell. just before he leaps out your window, he pulls a red stanford cap (one that you've never noticed, and one that looks suspiciously like art's) out of his pocket.

"hey, maybe i'll see you around" he says as he puts the cap on...backwards. something that only art would do. lucky enough for him, you're too tired to notice.

"...and those are the differences between meiosis and mitosis." you're trying to study for another biology exam when all of a sudden you hear a tapping noise on your window.

at first you think it's a bird, or some frat boy trying to piss you off by throwing empty beer cans at your window, but the tapping turns into banging and you start to hear sounds of pain through the glass.

you run to the window and see a boy in a familiar red and blue suit sitting on the windowsill. this time with a huge gash in his side.

"spiderman? oh my god, get inside, what happened?" you ask while scrambling for a first aid kit. art falls onto your bed, unknowingly bleeding all over your new floral sheets. he groans and holds his side, mumbling something about...well god knows what.

art protests as you try to patch up the very open wound by his waist. "you're just like my boyfriend art," you say with a grin "he gets all fucked up during his tennis matches and doesn't let me help him out." you can hear him through the mask but you can't tell if it's a laugh or a whimper.

"jesus- how long is this going to take? i have an econ final to study for" he says with a wince. "not very long if you sit still, spiderboy" you retort "why don't you take off your mask? you must be dying with that thing on."

you feel his face, and it feels...familiar. you slowly take off the mask, and reveal art's lips, sculpted nose, blue and brown eyes, and tousled blonde hair.

suddenly you realize. you realize the reasons for the missed calls, hurried kisses, and rain-checked dates. all this time you've been thinking that it was tennis kicking his ass, when really art was kicking other people's.

"hi honey" art mumbles, same lopsided, boyish smile that you fell in love with gracing his face "i'm sorry. i should have told you." before you can say anything, he kisses you and sneaks his hands to the small of your back. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as he pulls you into his lap.

"i missed you" you say, pulling away with a pout. you card your hands through his blonde curls. "i know, i know, i'm sorry pretty girl, it's just that...i don't want you to worry about me." art replies, pushing your hair away from your face.

you flick his forehead. "you dumbass. of course i'm going to worry about you, whether you like it or not...because i like you. a lot. no matter what kind of freaky superpowers you have." art lets out a weak chuckle, then he kisses you like a man stuck in the desert for 40 days. you can feel him drawing small circles along your hips and caressing your thumb.

you pull away one last time. "now tell me spiderboy...how did you go from tennis team captain to stanford superhero?"

[togglesbloggle]

Voltaire's Prayer

“I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: Oh Lord, make my enemies ridiculous. And God granted it." -Volaire’s letter to Étienne Noël Damilaville, 16 May 1767

I’m inordinately fond of sex, in the political sense.  It’s saved us so often from the worst parts of ourselves.

As far as anti-authoritarian elements of the human experience go, sex is right up there with curiosity and the search for truth- maybe even more so.  When a new tyrant comes to town, shutting down the universities and the libraries is only the second thing they try.  The first thing is to regulate human sexuality to within an inch of its life.  Rules for marriage, rules for courtship, rules for which genitals may touch and where they may touch and when they may touch.  Rules for who and rules for whom.  Rules for which kinds of sex must doom characters in literature, rules for which things may be described as sexy, rules for which things may be described in a sexy way.

Of course they do!  If you’re trying to bind a large polity together under a common ideological narrative, to render people predictable enough to quash dissent and legible enough to exert power through them, the last thing you need is a bunch of folks running around being horny about stuff without permission.  Nature gifted us with a great capacity for reason and community; we have the innate opportunity to learn about ourselves and our neighbors, and to form complex societies based on that understanding.  It was Aristotle who first called us the political animal, and the fruits of that extraordinary capacity will always be within our reach, if only we can come together within a shared understanding.  The invention of the city is the great triumph of our species, and with it we conquer the universe.

But also this extraordinary, reasoning mind has been sculpted from the raw clay of a biology that’s anchored in sexual reproduction, and this ends up being very, very funny.

The problem isn’t so much that the sex instinct exists, per se.  It’s how it’s implemented.  Like most biological forms, the full complement of 86 billion(!) neurons in your brain aren’t encoded in a particular configuration; the brain is much too complex to be described so precisely in the only ~725 megabytes or so of human DNA.  The particular shape of your brain is in there somewhere- the lobes and subregions responsible for vision, memory, cognition, all that- but only up to a point.  The genius and fundamental limitation of genetics is that, below a certain level, the genes instead describe a process for the production and reproduction of specialized cells, and simply constructs them in such a way that they can be relied upon to order themselves as they go.

This is all well and good when we’re talking about kidneys and livers, but the fact that you can encode any kind of specific behavioral instinct in a brain this way is nothing short of a minor miracle.  Think about it!  Spiders don’t have a ‘spider web’ gene, the gene is for ‘proteins that come together in self-assembling electrochemically sensitive gelatin tissue which, when complete, encodes patterns that operate organ systems such as legs and spinnerets in such a way as to reliably create silk webs.’  This is absurdly impressive, and also completely insane.

What I’m getting at is, powerful behavioral instincts in a complex animal aren’t precise instruction manuals by which we pursue evolutionarily advantageous behaviors.  Sex and eros are prior to logic or language, let alone strategy.  Sex is a double-thick electrical wire discharging lightning bolts right through the middle of our cognitive centers, installed in the brain by a surgeon wearing mittens.  It’s an untethered firehose whipping chaotically through the cathedral, unpredictably spraying golden reliquaries with substances unmentionable.  It’s the first and greatest anarchist.

I really can’t overstate my gratitude for this.

Obviously this results in any number of deeply goofy outcomes by way of kinks and odd sexual practices- it gets tangled with pain centers, with random bits of anatomy and proprioception, with our taboos and aversions, with our greatest terrors or our greatest yearnings or just arbitrary stimuli from adolescence, and of course it gets enmeshed so often with our notions of power and submission.  It imbues these things with a fascination and potency out of all proportion with their mundane meanings.  And ultimately, you end up with human pleasures and human values that diverge so far from banal evolutionary imperatives as to be all but unrecognizable.

Even when this process somehow manages to propagate through the brain in such a way as to drive behaviors that are legibly aligned towards some adaptive constraint- e.g. heterosexual mating practices resulting in biological reproduction and careful childrearing- it’s still madness.  Love and sex penetrate deeply across tribal and national and racial boundaries, across economic interests, across battle-lines and enmities.  We become traitors, apostates, emigrants, and artists.  Declare a law, and in short order some hot-headed young people come along to break it in the name of sexual passions you could not possibly have seen coming.  Divide your neighborhood into us and them, and by the time the ink is dry on your proclamation there will be a forbidden relationship across the fence.  There is no social order, no ethical system, no theory of human nature that can entirely withstand contact with the full spectrum of human sexuality, because sex and eros are always going to be exactly as bonkers as the complexity of the human mind and culture will allow, plus a little extra just to be sure.

This isn’t always a delight, of course.  Many prohibitions exist for a very good reason, and the chaos of human sexuality makes no exemptions for true evil.  Some of us end up really, truly victims of this process.  But for all the dangers, the chaos at the root of all this isn’t oriented towards evil.  Chaos just means chaos, essentially arbitrary and hence absurd in character.

And in the grand analysis, we are so lucky to have this thing moving through our communities, this ridiculous madness that guarantees that there will be cracks in every wall and slips exploding cigars in the pockets of the powerful few.  Not in everybody as individuals, of course, and not everybody the same amount; asexuality is certainly one of the outcomes that all this mad gallivanting through our brains can produce.  Sexuality would never be so predictable as to guarantee its own existence, after all.  That’s part of what makes the joke so funny.

But all of us, regardless of sexuality, get to live in a world where the grand anarchy of sex is constantly driving home this lesson that no category is inviolate and no law is perfect.  That we should not and cannot take ourselves too seriously, or forget that we’re animals.  That we don’t exist only for the sake of others, or within their understanding.  That cities are made of cooperation, grace, and forbearance- not conformity or mere compliance.

People sometimes worry about immortality.  In the political sense, I mean.  They worry about eternal dictatorships and unconquerable gerontocracies.  This fear isn’t entirely unjustified; death has often played a role in progress and liberation.  But as long as enough of us are still getting horny without permission, still falling in love in stupid ways, I think we’ll be okay.  Romeo and Juliet don’t have to die at the end to make a difference in the world, as long as they’re brave enough to get weird with it.

[inoreuct]

punkflower where hobie likes to crochet in his spare time bcs it keeps his hands busy; he does it while he’s daydreaming and it’s great! it’s fun! it’s relaxing!

the problem is that he can’t stop making things related to miles.

he picks up his hook and when he looks down again he’s made a little crochet spider in red and black. he doesn’t even remember reaching for the colours.

he tries again a few days later and by the time he realises he’s daydreaming about miles’s face and miles’s hair and miles’s smile, he’s already nearly done with a loose-knit navy cardigan. he ties it off temporarily and tries it even though he already has a feeling it won’t fit properly, and he’s right.

it’s too short on him.

because he’d subconsciously made it to miles’s measurements that he’d eyeballed.

fuck.

he finishes it anyway, passes it to miles all nonchalant just to get it off his hands and off his mind but the next time they hang out miles is wearing it and hobie has to stand in the corner with his mouth shut before he puts his foot in it, because the cardigan fits perfectly and if he talks he’s absolutely going to embarrass himself. miles is laughing with his head thrown back and hobie desperately wants to kiss him.

but obviously he can’t, so he crochets more instead and it gets even worse. he’s burning through his red and blue yarn like paper; he’s made headphone accessories, keychains, beanies, a whole collection of loose-knit tops bcs he can’t get the image of miles wearing the first one out of his head.

it’s ridiculous and he drives himself up the wall with it, but he gives them to miles anyway and says they’re just practice pieces until gwen and pav ambush him in his flat and yell at him to finally fucking confess or they’ll do it for him, bcs miles is decked out in swag knitwear and they keep getting stopped on the street by strangers asking where he gets his clothes and you know what he says?

he says they’re just his friend’s test pieces. with a sad little smile.

and hobie can’t stand it anymore, because he practically CUSTOM-MADE everything, test pieces his ass. he opens a portal right to miles’s room and his heart squeezes when he sees that miles is in one of the sweaters he made, cream-coloured with a maroon star on the front, a little green knitted sprout tied to his headphones on top of his head.

miles slams his sketchbook shut, blushing like he’s been caught, and hobie walks right up to him and says, “they weren’t practice pieces.”

miles blinks at him, still clearly flustered. “o…kay?”

he soldiers on. “i made them for ya. with you in mind. by accident.” see? he opens his mouth and puts his bloody foot in it IMMEDIATELY. he fumbles to do some damage control but miles is smiling crookedly, pulling his headphones off.

“you handmade me enough things to fill half my closet… by accident.”

“yeah.”

hobie has to force himself to breathe because miles is standing up and then they’re kissing and every damn thought gets wiped clean out of his brain.

“was that by accident too?” miles asks, close enough that hobie can smell the cocoa butter he uses on his skin, something warm tucked beneath his wry smirk and hobie wants to kiss it off his damn mouth, so he does.

(afterwards, they tumble down to dinner grinning like fools. miles’s parents don’t question, and they miss gwen and pav fist-bumping just outside the window.)

[trashy-tries-writing]

Hiii its me again 🍄 anon! And i got more ideas for Ravine writing!

Ok so what if like we have a scenario where maybe Ravine gets caught off guard, like someone unexpectedly came up from behind him(I honestly doubt that would actually happen but just for the sake if the post lets just say it happens) and Ravine's first instinct/reaction is to grab whoever's behind him and throw them over his shoulder (WWE style-) then proceeds to almost blow there head off with whatever firearm on him at the time.

If it wasn't for whoever got bodied to snap Ravine out of it there would have been a blood soak floor. When said person gets up they ask him what that was about and as per usual, Ravine says nothing but just stares at them before walking away.

I just think it would be funny seeing people like Ghost and Price get bodied/thrown around like it was nothing. And honestly seeing König get decommissioned in seconds would be hilarious! He's probably so used to being feared by everyone/being build like a fuckin truck that having someone casually just flip him would probably throw him for a loop.

Anyways thanks for listening to my dumb rambling again! Ravine always makes me feel better! This is 🍄 anon and ill see you next time!

Also Ravine could do that to me and i would fuckin thank him-

Watching Young Justice League- (or the crash course bc I can’t find full ep.) and realizing they skipped so much stuff. Maybe I should’ve started with comics instead of a TV series. Anyone have recommendations for someone who’s just getting into DC? (I already have like- a character that turns from a normal boy into a meta-human into the moon- I meAN WHAT- Too much fun with angst. I swear I try to write fluff, I swear I am. XD)

Also Spiderman??? So much angst on top of angst on top of angst- Like "Spider-man: No Way Home- WHAT DO YOU MEAN?? PETER MY CHILD OMG 😭 Fuck that I'm gonna make a character where the magic didn't work on him. Fuck u Marvel for making every Spider-man sad 😭 (Anyone wanna read that? 👀👀)

Hi hi 🍄 Anon👋, thank you so much for sharing this because I had so much fun! XD And it's not dumb I love your rambles! Let's just say that it was on a day where Ravine was thinking of the past. Problem solved😌 I hope you enjoy this and see you around 🍄 Anon👋💕 Omg same– WHAT WHO SAID THAT! Also merry christmas everybody! Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday! 💕

He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t. But that didn’t stop his reflexes from working faster than his brain. Ravine should’ve known to stay inside if he was going to be taken over with his thoughts.

Simon Ghost Riley

Ghost had been walking around the base for too long, just trying to find the giant of a man. How is it possible to not know where someone that big was? It’s not like he can hide with his size.

Or can he?

He has a feeling that Ravine can do so much more than he has already shown TF 141, and Ghost was eager to know when that would be.

Ghost blinks when he sees Ravine’s slouched body leaving the weapon room, a box under his arm with mechanical parts sticking out if and his attention stuck to the papers in his other hand.

Of course he would be working on something.

When was he not?

But Ravine was so deeply rooted inside his head, he wasn’t reading the documents or even looking at it correctly when he felt it.

Someone was behind him.

Someone-

Ravine feels his skin crawl, his mind playing tricks on him and-

Ghost feels gravity leaving him as Ravine yanks him over his shoulder. With his vision upside down, a silent gasp leaves his mouth. The air gets knocked out of his lungs as he lays on the cold ground with his hand in Ravine’s tight grip, his eyes swimming.

“Argh! Ravine, it's me!”

CRASH

Ravine drops everything as he falls to his knee, hands now softly brushing over Ghost as he sits up. He groans as he leans back on Ravine’s bent knee. Ravine twitches at the contact before lightly placing his hand on his hurt shoulder.

Ghost tilts his head towards Ravine’s chest, he can almost hear his heart beating out of his ribcage from guilt as he tries to catch his breath from being thrown around.

Despite the situation and the physical ache, Ghost finds Ravine’s reactions hilarious. (Don’t tell anyone that.)

Ravine doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know where to put his other hand as it lingers around Ghost who’s clenching and unclenching his fist, testing if it’s sprained or not by the firm grip Ravine had it a few seconds ago.

Ravine wants to leave, walk away as if he didn’t just hurt his teammate because of his wild instincts.

"What was that-"

Ghost’s shoulder aches and he blinks at the hand mark slowly forming on his wrist.

“-Bloody hell…”

Ravine tenses.

Ravine lifts Ghost up with ease, a little too much ease to the latter's taste as he hurries through the mess of fallen mechanical parts and loose documents.

He calmly walks through the base, getting Gaz and Soap’s attention as they pass the lounge. Gaz’s eyes widen while the water leaks out from Soap’s gaping mouth onto his shirt.

“What- Was that- Did…???”

“Ravine carrying Ghost? Yep definitely was them.”

Price could only stare as Ravine barges into his office with Ghost looking a little too comfortable in his arms as if he could take a nap right there and then.

The captain pulls his lips into a thin line, slowly slurping from his coffee mug as he squints his eyes at them.

“Let me guess…”

“Yes.”

“Oh boy.”

Ravine looks down at Ghost who’s leaning his head further into his chest, secretly enjoying the situation and then at Price who stares as if it’s a normal Tuesday.

Later they get told by the doctor that Ghost’s shoulder is injured due to being almost pulled out of his sockets and his wrist was now branded with Ravine’s hand for who knows how many days- weeks even.

Ravine couldn’t face Ghost for weeks- months if it wasn’t for Ghost and Price cornering him like they did the day Ghost met Ravine for the first time.

Ghost has a sense of déjà-vu.

(Sometimes brushes his hand over the purple-bluish bruise and compares his hand size with Ravines.)

John Price

It happened while they were still getting to know each other in the early days when Price found him inside that… room.

He knew he had to tread carefully with the burning man. He was like a wounded animal, cornered with nowhere to escape with his fangs bared at anything that breathed too loudly or at all.

But Price believed they had crossed over that line as Ravine didn’t react when he had to sit down in a room full of people or inside the tiny car he had to fit in to go on missions. (Price voiced out how too soon it was to send Ravine anywhere. But orders were orders.)

Ravine didn’t react to anything at all anymore. A perfect weap- soldier as Shepard liked to call him.

And so when they arrived back to base after another successful mission with Ravine making it so much easier with his fast killing and stealth, Price had only wanted to praise him for his good work.

But maybe, just maybe it wasn’t a smart idea to suddenly come up from behind him right after a tense operation-

Since Price found himself on the ground, his body having been flipped into the air like he weighed nothing as he landed with a loud ‘BANG’ echoing off the walls and on the ground.

Laswell gasped in surprise, jumping from her seat as Ravine took a step back as if realizing now what he had just done.

The gun that he had pulled out from his holster was now lowered instantly. Ravine’s body was tense, freezing still in his spot.

Price gets back on his feet, leaning slightly onto Laswell as he groans, trying to downplay the situation for Ravine.

“Shiiiiiit… You sure know how to use that strength of yours., don't you?"

Silence takes over the room before Ravine vanishes from his sight, quickly marching away from them with nothing to say. It makes Price sigh loudly.

Laswell chuckles underneath her breath. “Well that was a sight.”

“Will not happen again, so enjoy it while it lasts.” Price breathes out, hands on his hips as he bends his back forward with pain. “Damn it, I need to see the medic…I think I broke something.”

He ends up with bruised skin on his back, even fractured bones that puts him out of commission.

Price eyes the doctor, “...Well I’ll be damned.”

Price never thought that he would end up getting slammed into the ground like the enemies Ravine sometimes threw over his shoulder. Luckily for him Ravine didn’t use as much force as he did with them as they were directly knocked out of their consciousness...and then shot to death.

‘Now where is…’

It took a few months for him to finally get a real conversation with Ravine.

König

He shouldn’t be feeling like this, he really shouldn’t. But König continues to scream into his head, cheeks flared up with his thoughts stuck from the earlier occurrences.

König leaves the training facility, a towel draped over his shoulders as he makes his way to the showers to relax his muscles from the workout. Soon enough his stomach rumbles and he changes his mind of going back to his room to relax.

Rounding the corner, he sees Ravine staring through the window, his arms crossed over his chest, making his back muscle tense.

Feeling a little confident to try talking to the soldier who was just as tall as him, sticking out like a sore thumb in the team with… shorter people, König approaches the quiet man with a small smile.

“Hey Ravine.”

Surprised that the man didn’t react like he usually would when called, König tilts his head as he reaches a hand out.

“Rav-?”

A startled yelp escapes his lips, the world tilts and he finds himself staring at the swinging lights hanging from the ceiling. His body twitches uncomfortable and aches in pain as confusion swims in his eyes.

With his breath knocked out of him, shock taking over mentally and physically as Ravine slowly releases his steel grip, König tries to choke out something but he could only gasp. 

“…W-Was..?” -…W-What..?

Pain radiates through his left side but as König sees Ravine’s body loom over him, pressure withdrawn from his stomach and arms, and the realization that he had been so easily decommissioned in seconds, has left a new kind of warmth rushing through him.

König slowly rises to his feet, hand shooting up to rub his shoulder. The man stares confused when Ravine is now checking him over with what he guesses is worry, since there isn’t much to find out with his face covered and the silence in his throat.

“I-I’m fine, you just took me by surprise.”

Ravine brushes his fingers over the bruise forming on König’s wrist and König doesn’t know why he suddenly felt he should leave.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I er- I’m going to eat now. Yeah…now.”

However, with his food sitting in front of him, fork in hand, König stares silently in front of him, confusing his teammates in the dining hall and creeping others with his unblinking eyes. And just as quietly as he came he robotically goes back to his room.

That’s when he flops down on his bed, face pushed into his pillow, his face reddening when the situation with Ravine finally hits him.

Ravine had swung him over his shoulder like nothing and had pressed his knee down on his stomach, keeping him in place with his arms over his head with a grip that left handprints on him that were bruising.

König was used to being feared and manhandling others- others as in targets to eliminate- but being tossed around like a toy by someone else is-

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-’

Both were evading the other’s presence without the other’s knowledge until they were put back together for a mission.

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

@livinglifebesticanlol @jackiebluh @cumbermovels @agspgrwasb

I hope you enjoyed this! If anyone has any other imagine, scenarios, headcanon, etc. Feel free to send it to me, I love reading what you guys have in mind ❤️

[milkyboybluewriter]

The Greatest Temptation of Dipper Pines

Dipper Pines isn't just my favourite character in Gravity Falls, he's one of my favourite fictional characters of all time. He ranks up there with Spider-Man and Batman, the heroes of my childhood who brought me great joy and comfort as I watched or read about them valiantly making the world a better place at the risk of their own lives and happiness. I like to think those stories encouraged me to be a better person as much as they entertained me.

But I know that Dipper Pines has made me a better person.

I, like many fans, see a lot of myself in Dipper, especially my younger self. Sometimes I even say he's the boy I want to grow up to be more like. Part of why I like him is because he's not superhuman like so many other heroes. In fact, he's physically the weakest of the main characters, and while most consider him to be quite intelligent it's not to the superhuman degree of Ford, or entirely unbelievable in someone of his age.

But I'd argue Dipper's greatest asset isn't his intelligence anyway, it's his wisdom.

We see Dipper's journey throughout the show, facing many of the usual things people his age deal with and far, far worse. Bullies and abominations, dismissals and demons, first loves and near death experiences. And he repeatedly makes mistakes, sometimes causing bad situations or making them worse. But he learns from those mistakes. Mostly. He's not perfect.

For all I praise his heroics and determination, he easily gets in over his head and puts himself and others in danger. Both his ego and his insecurities can cause as many problems as his brain can solve. And while Dipper is a good person with a big heart for the most part, other times he's a straight-up jerk.

But as I said, that's part of what makes him so great. Because it's not our flaws that define us, it's how we accept and overcome them, and the good we do despite them. And Dipper Pines knows better than anyone else how flawed he is, with his self-doubt being a recurring theme of the show and central to several episodes. Whether he's lamenting his height, masculinity, age, muscles, voice, or something else, he eventually learns not to dwell on his faults and tries to accept them.

And while he's faced many tests that prove him to be a hero (even if his insecurity won't let him fully acknowledge it for long) there was one scene in particular which I think shows just how dedicated Dipper Pines is to doing the right thing. No matter how much it might hurt him to do so.

When Bill gained physical form he wrought havoc upon Gravity Falls. He transformed the town Dipper had grown to love into a hell on earth. He turned Ford into gold and burned the cherished journals in front Dipper's eyes, then offered him as a snack to two of his minions, forcing him to run and hide.

For three days a twelve-year old boy survived an apocalyptic wasteland that was ruled by monsters and nightmares that were trying to capture, kill, or eat him. And all that time he was wondering about his family, trying to reach his sister on a walkie-talkie that never answered back.

Then he found Wendy, one of the few remaining people living outside the safety of the Mystery Shack. After days of surviving who knows what they had finally found a friend to share the apocalypse with. Wendy recounted how she'd lost the rest of her friends in the initial wave, seeing them turned to stone in front of her eyes. Dipper guiltily confessed that he had no idea what happened to his family but his last interaction with Mabel had been a fight over Ford's offer of an apprenticeship.

And at his lowest point, when he's doubting his ability to do anything against such odds and if it's even worth trying, Wendy offers him the encouragement he needs to continue the search for his sister and comes up with the plan to steal a car and get them to Mabel's bubble.

This plan is almost thwarted by the appearance of Gideon Gleeful and his newfound prison friends, now working as Bill's enforcers as they prowl Gravity Falls and capture the remaining townsfolk. But the pair escape by driving through bubbles of madness and over a crevice, though the car is totalled in the process. Which leads to one of my personal favourite Dipper moments:

Right after they crash the car, clearly injured from the impact, Dipper crawls out of the vehicle and drags himself on his elbows and knees towards his sister's prison, urging himself forward and ignoring how distant it is.

Despite everything he's just endured and everything else he's been through that day and the days before, Mabel is foremost on his mind and he refuses to stop. Call it bravery, love, willpower, endurance, stubbornness, all of the above, whatever. For a brave young boy who's faced peril countless times, I think this was a defining moment. One that shows exactly how committed Dipper is to his family.

And when things are looking bleak, he finds Soos, who immediately helps him up then attends to Wendy's injuries. But the relief of finding another friend in a moment of need is short-lived as they are surrounded by Gideon and his Discount Auto Mart Warriors, who summon Eye-Bats to take them away. And here, so soon after one, comes another of my personal favourite Dipper moments.

Gideon Gleeful has been a thorn in Dipper's side since the start of the summer. A dark reflection of what Dipper could have been if he'd prioritised himself over everyone else. He's repeatedly threatened Dipper and his family. He came this close to forcing them to leave town. Worst of all, he'd consistently tried to make Mabel his, despite her wishes.

And how does Dipper deal with his foe? By talking to him. Using logic and sympathy, urging Gideon not to think of himself for once, but of Mabel and what's best for her. Dipper uses his own experience of unrequited love to convince Gideon to do the right thing. He encourages him and his gang to go against Bill, to prove the eldritch entity wrong about there being no more heroes and show that people will still stand up to him. It's also this scene that holds my single favourite line of the entire show:

"You can't force someone to love you. The best you can do is strive to be someone worthy of loving."

This line has impacted my life greatly. They were the words I needed to hear right when I needed to hear them the most, and it's a lesson I keep close to my heart. In many ways, I am the man I am today because of Dipper Pines and because of this line in particular. With it, he convinced me to become a better person for my own sake and not in the hopes of appealing to others.

And it was enough to convince Gideon too.

For possibly the first time in his life, Gideon Gleeful puts someone else before him. Not because of threats or trickery or violence, but because his enemy spoke to him with compassion and empathy. And, despite the fear of death or worse, Gideon, with the support of his prison friends, agrees to go against Bill, and give Dipper, Wendy, and Soos the time they need to reach the bubble and find Mabel.

It's one thing to learn from your own mistakes. It's something else to turn an enemy into an ally by teaching them not to make those same mistakes. If that isn't a sign of wisdom, I don't know what is.

And it's thanks to Gideon's last minute sacrifice that the trio manage to make their way to Mabel's prison, holding hands as they step into the unknown together, ready to save their friend. And it's here they face what Bill calls the most diabolical trap he's ever created: constant 80s background music.

Also, the ultimate desire of whoever enters it, compelling them to forget the outside world and enjoy themselves while everyone else suffers at Bill's leisure.

That's bad too.

Anyway, when we last saw Mabel, she'd had what she called the worst day of her life. She'd been looking forward to her and Dipper's thirteenth birthday, eagerly anticipating what she thought would be a great party to close a wonderful summer, surrounded by her greatest friends and new family as they entered their teenage years together.

Instead, she was repeatedly disappointed, her expectations and hopes shattered. First, Stan refused to let them host the party at the Shack because of the damage caused during Scary-oke. So as an alternative, Soos takes her to rent out the high school gym where she finds Wendy, who reveals that growing up and attending high school are not the light-hearted experiences television had led Mabel to believe. Instead of the romances and wacky adventures she was expecting, Wendy warns her young friend about difficult classes, puberty, peer pressure, and constant stress, even telling her to avoid growing up if she can. It's enough to make even the normally overly-positive Mabel concerned about turning thirteen and what follows after.

Trying to cheer her up again, Soos takes her to see Candy and Grenda, only for Mabel to find out that neither of her BFFS will be there to wish her happy birthday or even say goodbye to her when she leaves town. The two people she promised would always be her best friends, who were with her when she fought the Summerween Trickster and an arachnamorph, the ones she called 'her people' when they first met. Without her best friends, she loses all excitement for her and Dipper's big day and begins lamenting the end of summer.

And for the final and worst time of that day, an attempt to help inadvertently ends up leaving Mabel feeling worse than before as Stan tries to cheer her up by advising that, whatever happens, she would always have her brother. Only for her to hear moments later that Dipper plans to stay in Gravity Falls, leaving her to face the now miserable future on her own.

This leads to a confrontation with Dipper that leaves Mabel so distressed she runs sobbing into woods to get away from her issues. It is here, at her lowest point, that Bill arrives, inhabiting the body of Blendin Blandin. Always an opportunist, Bill takes full advantage of Mabel's despair and uses the body of someone she not only knows but helped when last they spoke.

He offers assistance to a little girl crying alone in the woods. Reminds her that he has power over time itself, and promises her that he can help her like she helped him. All she has to do is give him one little trinket that won't even be missed and he can fix her problem, giving her that little bit more time and delaying what moments ago seemed despairingly inevitable. He even pressures her a little at the end, asking if she was ready to leave Gravity Falls and knowing she wasn't.

Because it would mean an end to summer and the innocence of childhood, without her friends or brother to help her through it.

And when she gives him the rift, Bill follows through on the twisted deal and sends her to Mabeland, where none of that mattered. The world was bright and colourful, full of life and joy and laughter. Here, she didn't need to worry about growing up or leaving childhood behind. Summer was eternal and whatever she desired came to be, sometimes before she realised she wanted it. She didn't even have to say goodbye to Dipper, at least not fully. It came with it's own version; one who would support her, whatever her decision, and never leave her behind.

With all that in front of her, why would she ever turn her back on Mabeland? Especially when there was nothing but uncertainty and heartbreak waiting for her outside.

A lot has already been said about Mabel and Mabeland. How so much of it is surface level and appeals to Mabel's childish and sometimes immature nature. Stuffed animal trees, waffle guards, glitter rain, and dream boys. And a lot has and can also be said of Dippy Fresh in particular. A skateboarding, quote-unquote 'cooler' version of Dipper straight out of something from a cringe-worthy show from the 90s. Mabel's description of him is especially problematic since she calls him a "Backup Dipper with a more supportive attitude."

Dipper in particular hates his colourful doppelganger; stating so in the courtroom, glaring at him constantly, and even snaps his neck in an infamous deleted scene.

But it is important to keep in mind that this is a trap set by Bill. A multiversal threat older than our universe. But one who, as he says in The Book of Bill and Dipper's and Mabel's Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun!, likes Mabel. So while his trap is a far less torturous than many were expecting, it is still a trap and Mabel is still his prisoner. One who is clearly under the influence of the demonic triangle's incredible power.

We see that in Mabel's behaviour throughout the episode; her dismissal of Dipper and the other's warnings, her lack of concern for the fate of those outside, the way she was willing to let her own brother be thrown out of paradise and into hell, and finally, the way she reacts once she and Dipper seal their sincere sibling hug with the pats. Rubbing her eyes as if waking from a dream and suddenly noticing and complaining about the music and brightness.

It speaks volumes about the degree of control Bill Cipher has on the mind if he can make someone as bold and compassionate as Mabel turn her back on her own brother and everyone else she cares about. For all her self centeredness, Mabel loves Dipper more than anything, to the point that a paradise trap built specifically for her still needs some version of Dipper to keep her company.

And Mabel wasn't the only one to fall under Bill's enchantment. When they enter Mabeland, Soos and Wendy are tempted almost immediately by offers of food and drink after days of surviving on bat meat and hat brims, until Dipper reminds them who made this world. But even after that stern warning, they succumb very quickly.

At first, Wendy supports Dipper and tries to persuade Mabel to leave, expressing concern for her home town and its residents. Then her friends arrive. Leading her astray with fireworks, fake IDs, and a plunger to fulfil the prank of her dreams.

In many ways this makes Wendy seem quite shallow. After all, she just turned her back on Dipper and her home town for some childish antics with friends. But I believe there's a lot more to it, and that part of what makes Bill's paradise trap so brilliant is the layers each temptation has to it.

Just days earlier, Wendy told Mabel that she'd give anything to be twelve again. Growing up comes with expectations and responsibilities, which Wendy has repeatedly shirked throughout the show. From doing as little as possible at her job to partly going on adventures to avoid spending time at home and cleaning up after her family, Wendy wants fun and freedom above all else. Now, in Mabeland, she has the chance to be free forever, taking her frustration out on the high school she hates and can even torment the principal in a rejection of authority, all without consequence.

She never has to grow up.

Not only that, but her friends are standing right in front of her, safe and sound. Robbie is noticeably absent from the group, implying that she might not have fully forgiven him despite the events of The Love God. But the others are there, and its important to keep in mind that the last she saw of them they'd been turned to stone and taken away by Eye-Bats. At this point in time she has no idea if it's even possible to bring them back. For all intents and purposes, days earlier, Wendy Corduroy watched her friends die.

It could be argued that it was selfish of her to think of her friends before her family, but context is important.

Wendy does have issues with her family. She outright confesses in Society of the Blind Eye that they cause her constant stress. But she still loves them, as we see from her having breakfast with her father, enjoying camping with him and her brothers, and how happy she is when they reunite in the Fearamid; embracing them and not her friends. Much as they frustrate her, I don't think she loves her family less than her friends. I just don't think she wants to admit that she might have lost everyone she cares about.

At that point, Wendy doesn't know her family's fate but probably assumes - hopes - that they escaped like she did. They all took part in the same survival training, after all. And they were probably together since her brothers have always been seen with each other or her father. In fact, Dan was shown to have only been captured during the opening of that very episode, and only then because he made the mistake of following Farmer Sprott's deranged belief that making triangles would spare them from Bill's wrath. Her worst fears about her father and brothers were only confirmed when she saw them as part of Bill's throne, and reacted in horror.

But she can't deny what happened to her friends, and it's not hard to believe she might harbour some form of survivor's guilt at escaping where they didn't. So it's no wonder they were front and centre in her mind.

Because I know how it feels to lose loved ones. To have them taken too soon. What it's like to think of them constantly. And it's true what they say: you really don't know how much someone means to you until they're gone.

So I really can't blame Wendy for wanting to spend more time with the people she loved and thought she'd lost.

Nor can I blame Soos for doing something similar: promising Dipper his support one moment, only to falter the next.

Soos' temptation takes the form of his absent father. And while Wendy might have let herself be convinced she's hanging out with her real friends, Soos knows that this father is a lie. The apparition tells him so. But that doesn't matter because this isn't the father Soos had, it's the one he always wanted: a fusion between a Mexican wrestler and a hot sauce mascot, and who actually cares about his son and wants to spend time with him, offering a long wished for game of catch.

Soos hasn't seen his father since he was four, almost twenty years ago. And for at least eight of those years the man consistently promised to visit his son on his birthday, only to disappoint him time and time again. Causing a despair so strong that Soos stopped finding any enjoyment in his birthdays all together, and couldn't even confide in Stan as to the reason why.

Stan, the man Soos worships like a hero. An adoration that all started because, on the day Soos was let down once again by the man who was supposed to love him, Stan threw Soos the shirt he was looking at earlier and gave him a job. And with that indifferent act, Stan showed Soos more affection than he'd ever received from his real father.

But while Soos may think of Stan as a father-figure (even suggesting he'd like to change his name to Stan Junior) and loves him dearly, the years they spent together weren't enough to fill the void his real father left. They may have had their moments; Stan teaching Soos boxing, spending time with him and confiding in him outside of work, and even getting banned from aeroplanes because of his attempt to remove Soos' birthday from the calendar, but Stan was never the overly-sentimental type.

As much as Stan cares for Soos, his age, upbringing, and personality make it hard for him to drop his gruff exterior. Sometimes it's even difficult for him to do so around Mabel, the person he loves the most and is kindest to.

That isn't a problem for Soos' fake father. He looks apologetic when he says Soos doesn't remember what he looks like, admits he was never there for him, and then offers to play catch. Regret for past actions, acknowledging his failures, and then a gesture of affection all in short order. Three things Stan has struggled to admit or do, even to those most important to him.

So while Soos declared he would move past the trauma of his father's abandonment in Blendin's Game, it's not that simple. Moving on is difficult and takes time. His father left an emotional wound that's hurt him for most of his life. Even if Mabel and Dipper were the dressing that wound finally needed, it's still there. It needs time to close. And the scar could still last his entire life.

I have a father, and I love him very much. We have a good relationship. So I can't put myself exactly in Soos' shoes. But I do know what it's like to love someone who treated you poorly, and to still desire their affection even when you know deep down that they don't deserve the love you feel for them.

So nor can I blame Soos for leaving Dipper. Even if it's not the real thing, I can't say that would stop me, either.

It's important to note here that both Wendy and Soos promise Dipper they'll return as soon as they are done. They just have to do this one thing they've always wanted to do with the people they love, then they'll be right back to help him save Gravity Falls. They probably meant it too.

But one moment of weakness is all it takes for Bill to take advantage and sink his hooks in. Dipper and Ford learned that the hard way. And as manipulative and powerful as he was before, this is Bill's world now. One simple 'yes' and you are his, whether you realise it or not. So content that you don't care if what you're seeing or doing isn't real, you'll forget all about the people outside. Your dad and little brothers, the grandmother who raised you, the great uncle who took you in and gave you the best summer of your lives. It doesn't matter if they are alive or dead, you just feel so good right now it's hard to think about anyone else.

It's only a little fun. You'll get to them in a minute.

And so, with both of his closest friends and allies now under Bill's sway, it's finally Dipper's turn to face his greatest temptation. But Dipper is different from Wendy and Soos. He's smarter. More importantly, he's wiser. He's been fooled by Bill before and knows to keep his guard up. We see this from the very beginning of the episode when he knocks the food out of the others' hands despite being at least as hungry as Wendy is since they shared a meal together in the mall, and he didn't have her hunting skills to keep his belly full before that.

But he doesn't trust anything he sees. He's paranoid at the best of times and here it's more than understandable. Not only that, but it's much harder to tempt him because Mabeland already holds so much of what he desires.

Dipper is safe in Mabeland. More importantly, his sister and two best friends are with him. They found a safe-haven in the apocalypse. But he rejects it constantly, even walking away when Mabel said this place had something for him too, refusing to so much as look at whatever it is that could tempt him.

The commentary for this episode reveals the writers struggled to decide what they wanted the bubble to show Dipper. One idea was that it would be Ford; skyrocketing and again offering Dipper the apprenticeship, followed by a montage of adventures together until Dipper realises his life is unfulfilled without Mabel by his side. That was dropped because it was too complicated an long, and it didn't make sense for the bubble to show Dipper a future he'd end up regretting.

But there's another reason why that wouldn't have worked: Dipper's already accomplished it.

Dipper's quest to solve the mystery of the journals and find its author was solved. Not only that, but Ford was everything Dipper dreamed he'd be and more. In his own words, "I knew the author must be cool, but he's better than I imagined." Because Ford liked Dipper. They bonded, became close.

For a young boy with almost no friends to suddenly meet his hero and then become friends with said hero, it must've been a dream come true. Especially when Ford repeatedly praised Dipper, showed him the attention he craved but received so little of, and didn't tease or mock him like the other characters. Ford didn't just like Dipper, he respected him. Enough so that he thought Dipper was worthy of being his successor, of following in Ford's footsteps . Dipper would get to continue what he'd already been doing that summer, but now it would be with someone by his side who seemed to admire him, and appeared to take him more seriously than the rest of his friends and family.

It might've been a crashed alien drone instead of a skyrocket, and their time together ended up being a lot shorter and more harrowing than either anticipated, but Dipper had already achieved his dream of working alongside Ford and facing the weirdness together.

And while getting something you already had can be good, getting something you've only dreamed of having but thought was impossible can be even better.

At a lake, throwing stones, Dipper finally questions his commitment to his mission, wondering if Mabel could be right since at least there's no danger here, unlike the world outside. That's when Fake Wendy appears; the moment he's expressing doubt.

I've had several discussions about Fake Wendy over the years. Some have argued that she wasn't truly Dipper's greatest desire, that she was only what the bubble interpreted as Dipper's greatest desire. That he had moved on and was no longer tempted by the idea of getting together with Wendy, and that's how he was able to resist. Usually this is because they're just not fond of the Wendip ship, or think that it goes against Dipper's character arc of moving on, the same lesson he installed in Gideon the previous episode.

I strongly disagree with these arguments. I think it's clear that - whatever he might've said or what people want him to do - Dipper still has strong feelings for Wendy. It's brought up several times after Into the Bunker, like when Ford's machine read his mind, or for the plot of Roadside Attraction, and mentioned repeatedly in The Book of Bill. And when Dipper told Gideon that he couldn't force someone to love him, he looked back at Wendy as he said it.

Like Soos with his father, Dipper might have decided to move on but that doesn't mean he has moved on. Wendy is his first crush and someone he thinks of fondly outwith his attraction. And for all his smarts and wisdom he is still a twelve-year old boy going through puberty. It will take him a long time to separate or change those feelings.

I also think this argument does a great disservice to both Bill and Dipper's characters. Bill has manipulated people throughout human history and beyond it, but famously calls the bubble his greatest trap and behaves like no one could resist it. And so far he has been proven absolutely right because it has succeeded in tricking Mabel, Wendy, and Soos into forgetting those they love more than themselves. Saying that the bubble tempts Dipper with the wrong thing not only takes away the threat and cunning of Bill Cipher and his paradise trap, but it also takes away from Dipper's victory in resisting it.

In the worst cases, arguments like this have inadvertently (or sometimes advertently) implied that Mabel, Wendy, and Soos were all weak for falling for it at all. Which is something I simply refuse to believe. We've seen how brave and strong they all are.

In other discussions, people thought that Fake Wendy is Dipper's his greatest temptation simply because she is a fake version of Wendy. That dating her is the one thing that could make his summer perfect. That's closer, but I disagree with that too.

Yes, he still has feelings for her. And he probably can't completely stop himself from thinking that one day the age difference won't matter, or how, in a town built on an alien spacecraft and filled with gnomes, illiterate mosquitoes, candy monsters, sentient golf balls, and with a Dorito in a top hat threatening reality itself, two friends eventually becoming more isn't that far-fetched.

But I think his attraction was only part of what made Fake Wendy so appealing to Dipper. That if it was simply a version of Wendy who offered herself to him he would have seen through the ruse and rejected her immediately. I've said that all of the temptations have layers to them, and I think Dipper's might have had the most. Which makes sense because it would need something special for him to fall for one of Bill's tricks again.

In the scene before Fake Wendy's arrival, Bill had just been informed that Dipper and the others had entered Mabel's bubble. Laughing at the news, Bill declares it would take a will of titanium to resist the temptations. He then hovers to the window and gazes out at the bubble. So it's possible that, for this particular temptation, Bill had a more direct influence in creating what Dipper saw.

Because Fake Wendy is unlike the other temptations in many ways. The first is that she doesn't appear immediately. She didn't kick open the door like Soos' father or pop up without explanation like Wendy's friends. The door revealing her opened so slowly Dipper was able to leave the room before seeing her. And when she appears at Giggle Creek, she offers a reason as to why she's there, one that sounds reasonable while complimentary towards Dipper at the same time. Lowering his guard further when he'd just voiced doubts about his mission.

Because if Dipper would want anyone other than Mabel or Ford by his side right now, it would be Wendy. Not just because of his desire to spend more time with her, but because she showed him first hand how capable she is during Weirdmageddon. She protected him from Gideon's goons and gave him food and shelter after three days of struggling on his own. It was Wendy who encouraged him when he was questioning himself on the roof of the mall, and Wendy who came up with the plan that let them reach the bubble in the first place.

And there is a special relationship between the two since Wendy is the only character in the show aside from Ford who shows a clear preference towards Dipper over Mabel, as much as she also loves his sister. Dipper knows Ford is gone, but Wendy is there in the bubble, and she did promise she'd be back.

It helps that from almost the moment she appears, Fake Wendy praises Dipper. She tells him that the pranks got boring quickly and that he was right, implying that the mission - and by association he - are more important than what she thought was her greatest desire. She smiles at him as she sits down beside him. She impresses him once again by throwing a stone far better than he can, and assures him that he will come up with a plan, just like always. And as they both lie back on the grass, she tells him that he's the smartest person she knows.

A boy and the girl he likes, lying next to each other by a creek with the sun shining down on them as she repeatedly compliments him. It is a scene that, for all intents and purposes, appears romantic.

Then, as he lies down, she tells Dipper something he probably never expected to hear but likely hoped was true: that if he were older, he would be her dream guy.

And as surprised and pleased as he is to hear her say that out loud, it might have also hurt him a little bit too because it came with a catch.

If he were older.

If.

Then, sounding as if she just realised something, she reminds him that here, in Mabeland, he can be anything he wants to be. And that once he changes, they can be together.

Which is the final difference between Fake Wendy and the other temptations. The others changed the world to suit their subject. Mabel got total control and a brother who would always support her, Wendy found her friends and was allowed to act out without consequence, and Soos got a father who cared. But Dipper's greatest desire isn't to change the world or the people around him, it's to change himself.

Even more frequently than his desire to impress or get close to Wendy, Dipper's insecurities have been a big part of his character arc. He wants to be taller. He wishes he were more masculine. That he had bigger muscles. That his voice wouldn't crack. That he could talk to girls. That he wouldn't get pushed around so easily. Most of all, he wants to be taken seriously instead of being mocked or ignored. And in his mind, getting older is the best way to fix all of that.

Unlike Mabel and Wendy, Dipper can't wait to grow up. Because then he thinks all of his problems will be solved.

The reason I consider Fake Wendy to be the most devious temptation in all of Mabeland is because she's like a fusion of the others but with her own twists. Like Bill offering the deal to Mabel, she appears when he's at a low point. Like Wendy's temptation, it's in the form of someone he cares for and wishes was by his side. Like Soos, it's an offer for something he thought he'd never have but still yearns for.

Not only that, but Dipper's two greatest weaknesses are his ego and his insecurities, and Fake Wendy successfully plays on both at the same time. Even her comment about him being the smartest person she knows strokes his ego while soothing the fear of not living up to everyone's expectations as 'the smart guy' that he voiced in Society of the Blind Eye. And it is almost enough to make even Dipper Pines forget the people he's trying to save.

Because he is tempted. We hear the hope in his voice. See the joy in his eyes as they light up when he scrambles to his knees in excitement. This is everything he's craved all at once. A solution to all of his physical and emotional insecurities, and the chance to be with the girl of his dreams.

All he has to do is take her hand.

And let the rest of the world die screaming.

Which he almost does. His hand moves towards hers for the briefest of moments before he pulls back and scrambles away. And in my opinion, this makes Dipper's moment here all that more impressive. Because the strength of someone's will isn't measured by how little they are tempted, it's by how they resist that temptation.

Bill was right; the bubble really was his most diabolical trap. And it would take a will of titanium to resist it. But he was wrong about there being no more heroes in his world.

Because rejecting Fake Wendy wasn't just about Dipper denying everything he thought would make him happy, it was putting himself and those he loved at risk to save others. He could have been safe, and happy, and better. But the price wasn't worth it.

Dipper has frequently sacrificed his own happiness and desires for his sister. But this time he's prepared to put his own life, his sister's, and his two best friends' at risk to help the world outside. Because he needs them. And Gravity Falls needs him.

Just like I needed him. And I doubt I'm alone in that. Sometimes fiction is the pill that makes reality tolerable. Whether as an inspiration or a metaphor, a release or a goal, we all have our own reasons for feeling so strongly about the characters and scenarios that help get us through the day.

Which leads me to the final argument I've heard about how Dipper was able to resist Bill's trap. That, logically, he just rejected it because he realised it was fake, and the temptation he and the others face doesn't truly count. Because it wasn't real.

Neither is Gravity Falls. And yet here I am, having spent most of my weekend writing a six thousand word essay about it. And you're here reading it. Whatever you think of what I've written, that you took the time to look at this proves how important fiction is to you too.

And how much more time, effort, and money have you put into this series? The show, the books, interviews and tweets, possibly reading or maybe even writing fanfics? I've personally spent over five years writing over half a million words about a cartoon that ended over a decade ago and yet I still have so much more to say. And I'm not that special. Real or not, Gravity Falls matters to others even more than it matters to me.

Wherever you are, however fortunate you are, no doubt you've longed for something more, or at least something different. An escape, or a way to get something you knew you couldn't have but greatly yearned for. Think how tempting that is.

Now imagine if that offer was put in front of you while the word was ruled by monsters and an insane god. Wouldn't you yearn to escape reality, to not only be safe but happier than you've probably ever been in your entire life? How many of us would be able to resist that? I suspect even fewer than we think, but maybe I'm trying to console myself.

If I'm honest, I don't even know what my greatest desire is. But I still don't think I could - much less would - resist an offer like that in our world, let alone during Weirdmageddon.

But Dipper did.

And as I said before, I see a lot of myself in Dipper. True, I'm not as brave or smart or kind, certainly not as wise. But he has encouraged me to be better. He's already inspired me, despite all the mistakes he made along the way. So, who knows? Maybe one day, if I make enough mistakes and learn from them like he did, I'll be a little bit closer to being like him.

And even if I don't, that's okay too.

Because if Dipper Pines has taught me one thing…it's that the best you can do is strive to be someone worthy of loving.

And those are words to live by.

Cheers, Milky Boy Blue.

[sideblog-ver3]

spider webs (18+)

i need spider-man/peter parker. gosh like so badly. wish i involved more webbing concept, but if i wrote more it would end so horribly. first full smut fic, so go easy one me. also this is for adult peter parker so no marvel peter (kinda had ps5!peter in mind) don’t think too much, just enjoy the ride my friends (WC: 2.1K) dividers @firefly-graphics

reader with a vagina, oral (f), slight bondage (webbing)

vampires and boobs (my other fic)

peter parker and spider-man are two different people.

peter parker is a kind, scientifically smart, nerdy guy. he helps his aunt may at f.e.a.s.t. in his spare time, he works as a physics teacher for a high school in brooklyn, and he’s the best boyfriend you could have.

now spider-man is a part of peter, but they are two different people. he’s the friendly neighborhood spider-man, the amazing spider-man, the spectacular spider-man and any other adjective jameson could type up for the daily bugle. he was a wall-crawler webbing up the bad guys while still looking out for the little people. he had a sharp tongue with a snappy quip ready to fly, easy going personality for a friendly chat, and also could be deathly serious when the time calls for it.

he was clad in red and blue spandex that hugged all of him nicely. his biceps showing he could hold up a bus, his pecs and abs showing… he’s a stone wall, and his ass and other parts show that his partner is very lucky.

you get jealous sometimes when you see videos of spider-man swinging around, anyone could see what a hot body and sexy personality he has. where as when peter’s around he’s covered in two layers or loose clothing, anything that could cover up his physic. you wish he’d show his muscles off as peter parker, telling people he’s brains and brawn.

but you love him either way.

at least if anyone oogles at your boyfriend they don’t get the opportunity to see the godly body beneath the flannels and sweaters. oh! and another thing you love about spider-man, the webs. and the suit. mask and suit.

you’ve told peter before, “if you ever want to role play one night, i’ve always dreamed of spider-man webbing me up and using me however he chooses.” peter just gulped and took that information nervously.

that was two months ago. you weren’t expecting anything right away, it’s not like your sex lives were bad to begin with. peter’s got good stamina, able to go a couple rounds when you’re tired after the second go. it’s just that he’s been busier with patrol and work, you as well, just not piled high like peter always does. you just miss those long nights of kissing and touching, moaning into each other's mouths or skin. peter’s hands rising goosebumps in their trail, your fingers curled into his growing hair to give firm tugs as he pleasures you with his fingers or tongue.

so when peter climbed through your shared bedroom window at midnight you didn’t think he would want to do any fooling around. you’d just check for any harsh injuries, he’d shower and then you’d both fall asleep in each other’s hold.

but not tonight.

tonight, peter climbed through the window like usual, a few cuts to his suit but no broken skin or bones. he flipped the bottom of his mask up so it would sit on his nose bridge, tip of his nose to his chin were the only visible parts of skin.

you kept a hood gaze on his slow steps, seeing how he licked his lips. he stood at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips. your legs shifted under the blankets and your eyes kept wandering.

“i heard from a little birdie that you’ve been in need of spider-man’s help. and what kind of hero would i be if i didn’t come to the rescue?”

he rounded the corner of the bed, his right hand gliding just beside the outline of your legs. “what seems to be the problem, miss?”

you took a swallow, knowing your fantasy was gonna come true. “i- i can’t make myself cum. my fingers aren’t enough.” giving your best doe eyes, knowing they always work on peter.

he hummed, “well, i don’t mean to brag, but i’ve been told i know the best solution to that problem. got a technique named after me.”

that made you break character for a second, “oh yeah?” a slight giggle in your voice. “what’s this technique called?”

his pink lips quirked to a smirk, “spider tingle. mostly involves tongue.” your breathing picked up.

“could- could you do that? or- or however you want, can take me in any position. i just want to cum.”

“don’t worry, baby. i’ll take good care of you. now i’m gonna need you to put your wrist against the headboard.” your heart picked up.

slowly you pushed your arms up and then, “let’s take off this shirt first. gonna be difficult in a minute.”

spider-man held the hem of your sleep shirt and waited for a nod from you before pulling it over your head and off your body. waist up completely exposed for him. “you’re a gorgeous girl.” his gloves hands roaming over your doughy skin, a shaky gasp slips free.

he pushed your arms into a comfortable position before spraying a layer of web fluid to glue your wrist flat. “if you get uncomfortable just tell me and i’ll rip them off.” and you could only nod with an open mouth.

“don’t be afraid to be vocal. it encourages me.”

he pressed his lips into a kiss upon your left cheek then your right. he pulled back and you could see his act breaking for a second, “this okay? feel safe?”

you nodded but he insisted, “words, pretty. i need the words.” “yes. i’m safe.” he smiled happily, “good.” and he leaned in so he finally gave you a proper kiss.

it was sweet and slow, his top lip covering yours. the tip of his nose bumping into your cheek, a gloved hand caressing the empty side, his thumb swiping under your eye. you followed his leaving lips, chasing for more, struggling against your restraints. a quiet groan and whimper at not being able to reach for your boyfriend.

a teasing chuckle from his slick lips, his fingers held your jaw, “be a good girl and spread those legs for me.”

and your legs separated without any resistance, you could feel the wetness building on your panties. spider-man pressed sloppy, wet kisses from your collarbone to each breast before going down the valley. his hands were at your sides, sliding down your figure as his lips were walking the trail down south. your chest pushed forward and you moaned at the tingles he was causing, you kept forgetting you didn’t have access to your hands and it made you a bit angry.

“you're such a good girl for spider-man. do i get to keep you after this?” pressing a lingering kiss just above the band of your red and blue panties. a pair you bought so you could fluster peter, and they work magnificently.

you moaned, “i’m all yours, spider-man. i’ll be your little toy if you want.”

he kissed over the fabric and hummed, “i’m one lucky hero.” his slender fingers curled into the elastic band and started tugging down. you pushed your hips up to help and he slid the fabric slowly down your thighs, still leaving parted kisses on your body.

the underwear was off your body and thrown to the floor, completely bare for the clothed web-slinger. you didn’t realize how vulnerable it was be in this light, your legs shutting themselves. but spider-man gripped your knees and easily kept them from closing off for him.

“nothing to worry about, pretty girl. i’m gonna take real good care of you.”

he moved to lay on his stomach, throwing your legs over his shoulders and his head was now in front of your slick center. he gripped your outer thighs as he pressed some more quick kisses on your high inner thigh, just missing the place you desperately needed him.

“spidey, please. i- i- i need your mouth. please.” pleading for any relief from being pent up.

he kisses your mound, “only cause you said please,” and then his lips were wrapped on your pussy.

you sighed dreamily at the familiar caress, head thrown into the headboard with your chest arching into the air. breast bouncing with each quick breath followed by a deep inhale.

the low moans from peter’s mouth vibrate from your stomach to your heart. the nylon of his gloves, your version of silk on heated skin. the heels of your feet moving to dig into his shoulder blades, unconsciously trying to push him closer without your hands.

your lids are heavy with euphoria, trying to keep them open as you watch spider-man licking into you, bobbing his head and grinding his hips into the bedding.

“aww, poor- poor baby. looking a bit- a bit needy down there.” trying for a teasing tone, having to push through moans.

spider-man pressed a firm kiss to your clit making you gasp, “who wouldn’t be needy around a beautiful lady? especially one as delicious as you.” before dipping back to work.

this man knows how to get your heart racing with words alone.

you knew peter was skilled with his tongue, fast quips rolling into villains faces. oh, also easily making you cum and become a stimulated mess before him, but the spider-man suit is making him even better. your eyes are rolling to the ceiling or crossing in the middle to make your vision blur, mouth open in a silent gasp or biting into your bottom lip to subdue the louder moans so you don’t get a noise complaint. like last time.

you looked down again to see him lapping at your wetness, a lake in his scorching desert. his palms slid up your thighs to squeeze at your hips before resting them on your stomach. keeping you pressed firmly into the mattress, subduing your squirming.

his tongue tickled your clit, pulling a high pitched whine from your throat. you tried tugging against the webbing, you wanted it off so you could press spider-man closer, but you didn’t want him to stop for even a second.

“so- so close, ba- baby. so- uh! uh!” tingling as his tongue enters your hole. fucking in and out while his nose bumps into your clit, giving that extra stimulation. “yes, yes! keep- keep going.”

you squeezed tight around the muscle, his exhale ghosting over his spit and your slick mixing. how you wished you could rip your hands free, yank his mask off so you could sink your nails into peter’s messy curls and tug him.

spider-man started gaining speed, going faster, making that knot in your lower stomach building tighter and tighter. so close to snapping free from tension.

“please, spidey. peter, i’m- i’m almost there, baby.”

that only spurred him to kick into high gear, tongue flattening for every inch of you. lips kissing you intimately, sucking you sweet.

“pete- pete, i’m- i’m gonna…” trailing off as the knot tightens, rendering you speechless.

peter didn’t need to ask what you were gonna do, he just gave you a silent permission to cum as he continued his hero work.

a loud noise of ecstasy was ripped from you, thighs shutting around peter’s head as he worked you through it all. your chest was panting with a slight sweat to your breast.

“ah! ah! pete, too- too much.” foot tapping on his shoulder as your physical signal for him to lighten up. three more kitten licks, two kisses and a playful bite at your thighs that made you screech in delight.

peter finally tugged his bug-eyed mask off, letting you appreciate your pretty boyfriend with his lips pink all covered in shine. he crawled up your body, trailing over his phantom kisses from earlier.

he nipped at a spot on your neck at causes you to sigh dreamily, eyes fluttering shut and legs shuffling for something. “my hero.” sighing out the two words just as he licked over a spot where there is sure to be a purple hickey tomorrow morning.

his dazzling smile came into view, “all in a days work, sweetheart.” giving you a kiss while his hands ran over your arms and pulled away the loosening web fluid.

his lips moved from your mouth to your wrist, princess kissing them at the slight redness you gained at the friction. “doing okay?” he asked, peering at you through long brown lashes.

you nod, “yeah. doing great. now,” you pushed yourself into peter, wrapping your arms around his neck. shuffling your legs over his to straddle his thighs, you pushed his head into your neck so you could whisper into his ear, “how’d you like a reward? for helping me out, spidey.” pulling at his earlobe with your teeth.

peter shuttered and sighed, “i’d like nothing more.”

[ghosttalksalot]

Spidery!Peter Spideypool Fics

Let's do this! I have not read all of these. The ones I have not read have been recommended by those mentioned below + anonymous others. Anything that is explicit will be below the line, otherwise in no particular order. These will be from ao3. Assume completed unless otherwise stated. No dead dove or similar, content warnings prior to each summary. I will continue to add if anyone sends more! List below the break, and this is a long one.

You're gonna wanna be my bestfriend, baby by Firefly_ika

Teen&up. 11,843 words. "Peter’s given up caring about his identity around Wade. They're friends, proper friends, not just the kind of we-trade-banter-and-you've-saved-my-ass-a-few-times allies you tend to make in the vigilante gig. He hasn't exactly taken the mask off yet, but he's given more than enough information for Deadpool to track him down. The way he's going, it's like he'll reveal his whole life before, you know, actually revealing." (or) "Five things Peter exposes about himself, and the one that Wade figures out on his own."

Hunger Pains by X_Gon_Give_It

Teen&up. 931 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. "Why does he do this to himself? An angry thought hisses in Wade’s brain. Why does he have to make it so damn hard every time? But the anger is quick. Like a snap, there and then gone. Of course, this is hard on him. It’s easy to see the self hatred when he eats. The disgust at his own desperation. Now that he’s gotten to know Peter, and his sensibilities, it makes sense that this would be so difficult."

My Boyfriend's a Murder Bot by Fredegund

Mature. 55,912 words. Content warning, see tags. "Wade Winston Wilson is ugly. His skin's inside out. It ripples and moves every second of every day, at constant war with the cancer. Vanessa put on a brave face for him when she first saw the changes, but it turns out even she can't stomach the sight for long. He's ugly and alone and nothing will ever be good in life again - If only that were his only problem. But Weapon X is at it again, under crisp new management, turning orphans into super slaves and bringing out the big guns to make sure nobody interferes this go around (namely one Pool comma Dead). So now, not only is Wade alone and ugly forever, but he's got a bit of a pest problem in the form of a black-clad murder-happy man spider with a collar around his neck and an unhealthy obsession with tying Deadpool up. So maybe it's not all bad…"

because i have been lonely by QQI25

Teen&up. 8,591 words. See tag: basically Pete's a spider turned human. "As an immortal person, Wade has never really tried to make friends, save for a giant spider. But when an amulet turns the spider into a person, he has to learn how to live with another person in his life again."

When Instincts Take Over by TheStrange_One

Not rated, but no explicit content. 4,577 words. Not explicitly spideypool, but Peter & Wade nonetheless. "Wade had always had a—fascination, for lack of a better term, with NYC’s wall crawling web-themed hero. Just a little bit. Not a lot. He didn’t collect information of every Spider-Man sighting, or anything (He totally did.) So when Spider-Man started acting strangely, it was really no wonder that Wade noticed first. Of course, it didn’t hurt when he saw the behavior firsthand. Spidey webbing muggers, would-be rapists, and those who thought a little B&E was the best way to begin a day in a thick cocoon wasn’t unusual. However, then whirling and hissing—honest-to-God hissing—was."

Dark Horizons by beforethemoon

Teen&up. 11,215 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, see tags. "“You—you’re the Spider-Man.” From beneath the mask, a slow smile crept across Peter’s face. Gregory Smith—an ordinary name for a man who wasn’t so ordinary—writhed in his grip. It was so easy to subdue the man; with his superstrength, Peter just had to apply the slightest pressure on good ol’ Greg’s neck and the man was blissfully silent. He liked hearing that line, though: you’re the Spider-Man. The Webslinger. Or, if you were J. Jonah Jameson, the Wall-Crawling Menace. So many names, but all were said with the tinge of fear that Peter was addicted to. They always managed to choke out the words, and he always made sure those were their last."

Better than Beyond Beef by BunsofHoney

Teen&up. 16,313 words. **See tag: Riding the literal bleeding edge of smut. Has a sequel. "Wade took in Spidey’s inhuman appearance. "You look about ready to go hunting." "I… get like this sometimes, when I'm in a lot of pain, or fear, or angry I think. Right now I…I just need a really rare steak, that's all." - When a sudden explosion leaves them both badly injured, Wade discovers that Spider-Man's mutation can make him a little...feral. Wade makes an offer to help Spidey heal faster and satiate his craving. What's a little cannibalism between friends?"

----- fics below this line contain explicit content -----

Songs for the Zombie Apocalypse, a 5-part series by zerospoons_onlyknives (oprime)

First work is Teen&up. Second third, and fourth works are Mature, with sexual content. Fifth work is explicit. 50,000 total words. Zombie apocalypse au, they're not superheroes. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. "Peter Parker and Wade Wilson navigate zombies, religious extremists, and each other as they try to survive the apocalypse. What started as a kidnapping morphs into a weird bond between the two but sometimes it feels like only one of them can survive."

I'm Something of a Scientist Myself by fancastical

Explicit. 11,422 words. Content warning, read tags. "Wade decides to start dousing himself in various synthetic spider sex pheromones before meeting up with Spidey, because why wouldn't he? They have some… interesting results. Wade feels downright scientific."

Upside Down by TheOrangeWritingRanger

Explicit. 56,271 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning for an especially spidery Peter. "Wade Wilson is as happy as a chipmunk in a peanut factory, Avenging by day as Deadpool, playing videogames and eating countless tacos by night. But something is missing from his life, or so say the ever present voices in his head. In the course of investigating several gruesome deaths with his teammates Hawkeye and Black Widow, they discover that something large and arachnoidian is terrorising New York. 'Pool follows some clues, and that cute brunet guy who keeps turning up, and finds himself at the spinneret ends of the elusive spider monster. But is he actually a monster, or is there more to his story?"

Babe Wake Up, It's Pumpkin Spice Season by X_Gon_Give_It

Explicit. 7,460 words. "He glances over the thick black lettering above the picture (SPIDER-MAN AND DEADPOOL: PARTNERS?) and focuses solely on Deadpool. The merc has two guns out in an exchange of bullets with a robber inside a bank. This wasn’t long ago. A week at most. Each shot had been calculated, the bullets never missing their mark, as the smell of smoke and gunpowder drifted  in the air, heavy enough to choke on. Peter roamed over the display of muscles covered by a body suit of spandex and leather. For someone who rarely exposed their skin, Deadpool’s suit had a way of accenting every inch of his body. His steady posture didn’t help. Or those rolling shoulders. His large hands. Again, the feeling stirs in Peter’s gut, more insistently. Urging."

Wade Wilson's Guide to Studying Your Spider by X_Gon_Give_It

Explicit. 114,210 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, read tags. "After months of working with Spider-Man, Wade Wilson realizes there are a lot more to his hero's powers than meets the eye..." (AKA) "The one where Wade notices that Spider-Man has been acting weirder and weirder, and the more he looks into it, the more he realizes that his not-so-normal partner in crime(fighting) is a lot stranger than he thought."

Hurting, Loving by bubblebeezey

Explicit. 12,454 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Incomplete, last updated in June 2024. "Peter Parker finds himself deathly injured alone in his apartment, and in a panic, calls Wade Wilson. Peter's identity gets revealed under some not-so-nice circumstances, but everything is worth it in the end. Hurt and comfort ensues. (And romance, of course)."

you're goodness; i'm what's in between by strawberxi (Tupipsie)

Explicit. 7,416 words. "“I love you, Wade,” Peter stated, said so casually that one might have assumed they were dating. He said them like they were fact– and Peter supposed they were, if he was making proper sense of his feelings. Wade just stilled. Peter didn't move, and his heart sunk deep into his stomach. Even then he couldn't take the words back, and he didn't want to. - a spideypool getting together fic"

Soup and steam - an earthquake waiting to happen by pandafish

Explicit. 9,219 words. "The worst thing about having the flu when you were essentially half spider was that the fever became like ten times worse. No, scratch that. The worst thing was looking out your window and seeing Deadpool sitting there like an oversized cat, eagerly asking if Peter could come out and play, and wanting nothing but to beg him to come inside and care for his sick friend-lover-vigilante partner. But how could Peter do that when they were supposed to be simply fucking for stress relief, not actually stick around for the truly intimate parts?"

Good Enough (To Be Good To Yourself) by jackmischief

Explicit. 221,082 words. Content warning, read tags and chapter notes. "Peter meets Deadpool when he’s in his civvies, and has the good fortune of remaining unrecognized. But with a friend like Deadpool — and his interesting habit of trying to feed his good buddy Spider-Man — he finds it hard to be too worried. When Deadpool winds up coincidentally finding Peter a second and third time, the merc gets attached to the cute brunet. Meanwhile, Spider-Man and Deadpool are a crime fighting duo tackling strange activity on the docks with suspicious ties to an all too familiar organization. A fluffy, angsty, eventually smutty Spideypool romp with an identity reveal endgame and regular updates on Mondays and Fridays. Rating and tags reflect entire fic. Smut starts at chapter 9."

Spider2703 by kingdomclouds

Explicit. 31,166 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning for brainwashed/tortured Peter. There is a sequel. ""When did they get you?" "I was- Peter Parker was 16 when he went missing. Spider turned 24 when he was born." The words come out robotic, practice making the sentence flow quickly and easily. Wade's hand tightens on his neck before it loosens and let's go completely. "So your name is Peter?" Spider shakes his head harshly and pretends his eyes aren't watering- soldiers don't cry. Wade keeps his grip tight on his jaw, ignoring the mess of venom getting all over his palms. "My name is Spider, serial number 2703." "They've really got you brainwashed, haven't they?" "I'm not brainwashed. Spider is my name. Peter Parker doesn't exist." Spider looks away from Wade's gaze- he can't help it. Those eyes can see right through him. --- Or; Peter was apart of the Weapon X program, like Wade- except he never left."

Medium Rare by MargaretKire

Explicit. 24,562 words. Vampire au. Content warning for everything (spidery) vampirism entails. "Peter just can't get full lately. He eats and eats, but he's constantly exhausted and hungry. Wade realizes what's going on before Peter does. And becomes obsessed with getting Peter what he needs- living cells in the form of blood and...other things."

So No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way by Jenetica

Explicit. 32,894 words. Content warning, see tags and chapter descriptions. "Peter Parker's life doesn't need an influx of new, distinctly spidery Spider-Man powers. He would gladly spend the rest of his days not creating tiny spiders from nowhere, for example. Like, in a, "yes please, I'll take two orders of the 'no spider-parenthood lifestyle,' hold the whip" kind of way. And that's only the start of how certifiably nuts his life has gotten lately. But... okay, the spiders are pretty cute. And the other powers, well, aren't horrible. He supposes. And if Deadpool seems to think his new spidery skills are great and interesting and hot (which is weird, but not as objectionable as Peter would expect), that's... that's not so horrible, either. Alternatively: Peter's powers are a joke, he's broke, and his love life... isn't all that DOA."

Tiny Entanglements by MargaretKire

Explicit. 6,875 words. Content warning, see tags. More Spiders-Man then Spider-Man. "Spider-Man has some hidden desires. So does Deadpool. Things get complicated when Morbius claims to have a cure for Peter’s ‘impure’ DNA. Or: Three thousand spiders in a suit fall in love with Wade Wilson. Featuring: Spider interludes"

Weaver of Silk and Dreams by a_stands_for

Mature with explicit chapter. 73,831 words. More ships with Peter than spideypool, see tags. "Some alternate realities are unrecognizable, and some are indistinguishable. This one lies somewhere in between. Peter Parker's life was derailed when he mutated into a strange human/spider hybrid, and he knows that's not the way things went down for him in other realities. Still, he's determined to forge a new path and make the best of it. Sometimes "the friends we made along the way" really is the greatest treasure anyone could ask for."

Strange by smellslikecitrus

Mature with explicit chapter. 34,900 words. Fairy au. "Peter was just trying his best, as a spider fairy would do. Wade stole Ant-Man's suit during a week-long mission in Massachusetts, deciding to see just how big the forest looks at ground height. Wade accidentally discovers fae creatures in said forest. Cue the title."

He is Soundless From Afar. by elastic honey (infernoconcealed)

Explicit. 15,961 words. Content warning, see tags. "Three part story. 100% based on teamup comics. Every time Deadpools wants to kiss him, Peter's spideysense starts going off. He should hate Wade for killing him. He should swing away and never see him again after what he did. Instead, he starts getting drunk off the feeling."

atlas by a_cry_in_the_wilderness

Explicit. 3,143 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, see tags. "The first time that Wade tells Spider-man that he’s beautiful, the hero laughs in a way that makes Wade realize that there’s a wound that he’s accidentally brushed against. It’s too late to stop the bleeding, but he tries to compress it anyway. Peter Parker alludes to not looking how Wade expects underneath the mask leading Wade down a spiral reflecting on his own insecurities and expectations."

Cicatrices by WaterMe

Explicit. 9,036 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, see tags. "Spider-Man is falling apart. Deadpool knows how to put a broken thing back together. (also they fuck a lot)"

hit me with your kill shot, baby by Anonymous

Explicit. 6,613 words. Summary is a mature excerpt. See notes: "Peter going feral with spidey traits during sex."

-----

That's the list... for now. Give me a good ol' bonk if I missed info or cws on any of em, and feel free to give me more to add! Enjoy. Thank you to @disconnected-penguin and @enby-spite for your help!

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Endeavor x Hawks | Steamy in the Shower | Part One 💋

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Endeavor x Hawks! 🔥🦅

Note: Smut alert!!! Strictly A18+ ONLY!

Genre: Smut

CW: MDNI!, spicy scenes, sexual tension, semi-public sex, domination, degradation kink, hand job, oral sex (giving + receiving), fingering

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

It’s been another long day on patrol.

The past 12 hours have been spent relentlessly chasing down villains and various wrong-doers across the city. Enji is absolutely exhausted.  In one day alone he has used 14 flash fire fists. He’s getting older, and it’s not as easy to pull out repetitive Ultimate Moves as it used to be. His whole body is aching – particularly his wrists and fists which have taken the brunt of battle.

He cracks his neck as he walks through his buzzing agency. He’s bone tired, and in desperate need of a massage. He wishes desperately for home – for the big California king bed in his bedroom at the Todoroki estate. Unfortunately, it’s late and he has a slew of meetings scheduled for the following morning. His crash pad at the agency will have to suffice tonight.

He stalks down the hallway towards his office, brooding. Moe Kamiji falls into step next to him, holding a clipboard. Her expression is steely – she knows her boss is in a bad mood, but she’s still going to make him talk.

“What is it, Burnin’?” Enji sighs, sparing her a glance. Kamiji has proven herself time and time again to be one of the most valuable sidekicks at the Endeavor agency. Of the 30 flaming side-kickers on staff, quirk isn’t definitely isn’t the most powerful. However, she is tenacious and crafty. Her strategic mind and ability to think on her feet in tough situations has made her indispensible to the team. Enji has personally invested time into her development as a young Pro Hero this past year, nurturuing her bright spark. It’s for these reasons that Enji doesn’t immediately wave her away. He knows that the young woman would only approach him with important matters.

“Mr. Endeavor, sir. I have a report from section 23 – there was a bank robbery by a villain with a spider quirk - ”

“Spider quirk? Meaning he has 8 legs, or meaning he controls spiders? Lead with the important details, Burnin’.” Even when exhausted, Enji can’t help but coach his young protégé. He sees a flicker of annoyance in her eyes at the quick correction, her fiery green hair flaring a bit in aggravation.

“Right, sir. The villain had 8 legs and could produce a strong, web-like material from his fingertips. He had incapacitated the entire bank staff and 12 civilians before he was stopped. He was caught while trying to rob the bank’s safe and was turned over to the authorities.”

Enji nods, sounds like a relatively clean wrap up. What he doesn’t understand is why Kamiji is informing him of this incident – if it was so easily handled by his team, surely he can just read through the paperwork in the morning?

“Who handled the fight and subsequent arrest?” Enji turns to peer over her clipboard in hopes of gleaning some intel.

“Well that’s just the problem, sir. Hawks flew in and handled it as we arrived on the scene. So I needed you to sign-off on this paperwork to identify the incident as a team-up between the Hawks and Endeavor agencies.” Kamiji looks up at him searchingly, curious to see how he’ll react. For a brief moment, all fatigue is wiped from Enji’s brain as he processes this information.

“But I didn’t authorize a team-up with Hawks.” Enji says slowly – the last time that he saw the winged hero was when Hawks had showed up unannounced to pass along some cryptic intel about the League of Villains more than a month ago. In fact, Enji hasn’t seen nor heard from the 22 year old since. Enji has been meaning to reach out and track down the damn bird for at least a week.

“We know, sir. He claims he just wanted to drop by to say a quick hello to the Number One hero.” Kamiji’s tone is flat, she clearly doesn’t know what to make of this surprise appearance either.

“Is he here now?” They’ve reached Enji’s office – he scans his badge and the lock unclicks. He pushes open the heavy fireproof doors, half-expecting to see Hawks lounging behind his desk with a cheeky grin plastered across his youthful face. Enji is almost disappointed when he sees the office is completely empty.

“Yes.” Kamiji enters the office a few paces behind him, she remains standing as her boss removes his plated armor wrist braces and takes a seat behind a massive (fire-proofed) oak desk. “He didn’t have any accommodations so we put him up in one of the guest rooms in the Sidekick dormitories.”

Enji practically rolls his eyes at this news. Classic Hawks – making himself comfortable at someone else’s expense.

“Send a message to his room – I’ll see him first thing tomorrow. Have my assistant set a meeting on my calendar. I’ll need to remind him that it’s not polite to show up in another hero’s territory unannounced.” Enji sits for a moment, thoughtful. The old Endeavor would have blown up at this situation – a situation that once-upon-a-time he would have interpreted to be a clear sign of disrespect by a peer. He takes a deep breath, centering himself. Enji reminds himself that he’s different now, and focuses on embodying the kind of man he is trying to be. “Please also have my assistant order him dinner on my credit card. I’m sure the kid was moving so fast that he forgot to eat again. He likes fried chicken.”

If Burnin’ finds his request out of the norm, her expression doesn’t show it. “Of course, sir. Before I go – can you sign these forms to retroactively authorize the team-up?”

“Of course. Thank you for your hard work today.” Enji accepts the clipboard he passes her, adding his initials to three spots across the page.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good night.” Kamiji bows deeply before exiting the office. Endeavor sighs deeply and looks across the room to an elegant clock on the wall.

“Hawks…what have you gotten yourself into this time?” He wonders aloud.

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

It’s already well past eleven by the time Enji enters his agency’s locker room for a much needed shower. It’s a Wednesday night in between shifts, so most of the staff is either on patrol or asleep. Finally, he is blissfully alone.

He takes in the large, luxurious locker room. When he started building his agency, he ensured that the facilities would be a luxurious retreat for his employees. Rows of neat navy blue lockers flank the entryway.  The cleaning staff must have recently done a sweep of the space, because the white floor tiles glisten as he switches on the light.

Enji takes his time walking to his assigned locker, pausing for a moment to smile softly at the engraved nameplate one of his sidekicks has had welded to the blue metal. Beneath his name, the words “Flame Boss” have been engraved in a stylized font. It had initially been a practical joke – when the spa-like bathroom facilities were being built, a daring sidekick had dared his friend to sneak in and alter Endeavor’s locker nameplate. When Endeavor had seen the engraving, his initial action had been one of rage – how dare his sidekicks deface his property in a blatant show of disrespect! But once he had cooled down, he quickly realized that the engraving had come from a sense of commradery. Now  the “Flame Boss” engraving brought a spark of warmth to Enji’s heart whenever he saw it.

Enji slowly removes his costume. He’s sore, so it takes a long time to discard the heavy metal plates and skin-tight fabric that make up his hero uniform. He hangs the pieces up in his broad locker, then strips himself naked. He gazes in his locker’s small mirror, taking in the faint bags beneath his tired eyes. There’s a cut beneath his chin that needs cleaning, and a light bruise is blooming across his right pectoral. His body is the same as ever – thick, defined muscles wrapped around his large, pale frame. He frowns for a moment, thinking he might see a few strands of grey cropping up in his bright red hair.

Ready for a shower, Enji moves into the bathing area of the sprawling facility. Past the lockers, a short hallway leads off into the shower room and the steam room. There’s a shelf midway down the hall piled high with fluffy white towels and long bathrobes. Enji pads his way down the hall to grab a fresh towel. He’s naked save for his soft slippers. The rest of the company is either working or sleeping, so he doesn’t feel the need to wrap a towel around his waist.

The shower room is fairly large - a massive tiled room with 10 showerheads protruding from the right wall. Since the area is dedicated solely to men, there are no curtains or barriers between the showers. Each showerhead has a dedicated shampoo and body wash dispenser mounted to the wall beneath it.

Enji selects his favored shower – the showerhead and faucet furthest away from the door. He sighs deeply, content, as he turns the knob to its hottest setting. Thick steam fills the room. Enji steps beneath the heavy stream of water and sighs contentedly as the torrent of heat rolls across his skin. He closes his eyes and focuses on the gentle way the water beads and runs across his substantial frame.

“Oh, hey there Number One!”

Ugh, it’s Hawks.

The twenty-something hero has been a thorn in his side for a few months now – constantly popping up unannounced with cryptic warnings and infuriating sarcasm. What’s got Enji shaken up even more is the way that Hawks has started openly flirting with him. The Number 2 Hero is constantly in Enji’s personal space – touching him, joking around at him, making eyes at him. It’s enough to drive any self respecting hero insane.

Currently, the winged hero is giving Endeavor a sort of appraising look. He’s got that stupid vacant smile on his face as he takes in the scene.

“What are you doing here?” Enji moves to grab his towel off its hook to quickly cover his waist. When Hawks shows up, things are never good.

Hawks himself is bare-chested, standing in nothing but tight black boxers. The underwear hugs his chiseled frame almost sinfully, leaving little to imagination. He shifts on his feat, his package lightly bouncing with the movement. Enji quickly tears his eyes away from his comrade’s crotch, his eyes landing instead on the small zippered bag  perched in Hawks’ hand. It looks to be a waterproof travel toiletry kit. A small silver “H” is embroidered on the side.

“Relax, Endeavor! I was just in the area fighting a villain and thought I’d pop by to say hi. Your assistant told me I could use the facilities to rinse off – I hope you don’t mind.” He raises his eyebrows at the last part, smiling as he glances down at Enji’s covered waist.

Hawks saunters over to the other side of the shower area, pointedly choosing the showerhead furthest away from Enji. He sets down his small kit on one of the available shelves and unzips it, pulling out a few different travel sized bottles.

Probably some stupid trendy hair products, that damn bird is always preening himself. Enji rolls his eyes, deciding to ignore the winged hero the best he can. The sooner he washes up, the sooner he can get to bed and recover from the long toils of the day.

Enji refocuses. Now that Hawks is a comfortable distance away, he removes his towel and hangs it back on its designated hook. Steam fills the room as he turns the shower to its hottest setting. He reaches for the generic shampoo that the agency provides and begins lathering his hair. The hot water hits his back and instantly he feels his muscles relaxing. He lets his mind go blank as he savors the feel of the water in his hair, on his skin. What a day it’s been.

Enji settles into his typical routine – lather, rinse, repeat. An unexpected noise drifts along the shower room: a soft moan is rebounding around the acoustics of the facility, warbling beneath the sound of the pitter-patter of the shower water. He’s jerked from his relaxing state and looks over at Hawks, annoyed. His eyes widen in surprise at the image before him:

Hawks stands, expectedly naked under a stream of hot water. What’s unexpected: he’s slowly working at his semi-hard cock with one hand as he flips the top off of a small bottle from his travel kit with the other. Enji’s jaw drops at the scene.

After a few moments, Hawks feels Enji’s eyes on him and looks over lazily, head cocked to the side. He doesn’t wait for the Flame Hero to speak, but plows right into an explanation. “Kind of a post-battle ritual of mine. It’s the only way to kind of “reset” my nervous system after the stress of combat.” He pauses, gauging Enji’s reaction before adding as an afterthought: “Hope you don’t mind, Endeavor.”

“Of course not.” The words fly out of Enji’s mouth before he can stop them. The red-haired hero shifts awkwardly and looks away. Of course he has a fucking problem with what’s happening here! Hawks is pornographically pleasuring himself in an employee facility! On one hand, Enji is absolutely appalled at the gross disrespect Hawks has for Endeavor and his agency. On the other, he completely understands Hawks’ so called “ritual.” Everyone has different ways of unwinding after battle. It’s a hard job that they do, after all.

Several feet over, Hawks squeezes the contents of the tiny bottle into his hand. A thick, clear substance flows easily into his palm. “It’s lube. I bring it with me when I’m out of town – it’s a very specific formula that allows me to get justttt the right stroke in.”  He reaches down to apply some of the lube to his already-hard dick. His eyes flutter shut as he begins to coat his hard dick with the lubricant.

 “Jeez….yeah, that’s the stuff.”

Enji tries to ignore him, blowing steam out his nose. What an annoying bird! He glances back over and sees that Hawks is now looking directly at him, stroking that stiff cock of his.

“You wanna try some?” Hawks asks, indicating the small bottle of supposedly special lube.

“What?” Enji asks in absolute disbelief.

“You heard me.” Hawks’ face has broken into a sly smile. He drops his dick and starts to slowly saunter towards Enji’s shower area. Within a few strides he’s next to Enji, holding the lube bottle out like a peace offering.

“Why the hell would I want that?” Enji huffs, uncomfortable of the general nakedness in the room.

“To help you let loose! You’re wayyyy too high-strung Number One. You need to clear out the ‘ole pipes!” Hawks’ grin is nauseatingly shit-eating as he says this. Enji wants to smack the bottle out of his hand and then give the 22 year-old a smack across the face for good measure.

“Hawks.” Enji fumes, “Go back to your shower and I’ll forget this conversation ever happened. I’ll even let you pleasuring yourself publically slide since you did my agency a favor today. Now get out of my face and leave me alone.” Enji resumes lathering his hair, hoping the blonde will take the hint and go the hell away. After a moment, he looks up to check – only to see that the Winged Hero is glued to the spot, hand still outstretched with his X-rated offering of lube. The shorter hero’s eyes are a bit glassy, a storm of emotion rolling across his retinas. When he speaks, his tone has completely changed – it’s softer, almost gravely.

“I mean it, Number One. You’ll be able to unwind so much more easily if you just rub one out. In fact…” Hawks pauses to lick his lips, his pink tongue darting across his even cupid’s bow. “…I could do it for you, if you want.”

Silence. Enji stops shampooing his hair.

It’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room as Hawks’ words reverberate against the shower’ room’s flawless acoustics. Did he just offer to…?

“…what?” Enji chokes out, flabbergasted.

Hawks drops his arm and lets the bottle hang at his side. His cock is erect and shiny, still covered with a thick coat of lubricant. In his disbelief, Enji can’t take his eyes off of it.

“How about it, Endeavor?” Hawks’ gravely voice is honeyed and sweet. “All you have to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. I promise – I’m really good at it. I can make you cum in a few minutes if you’d like.”

“Hawks!” Enji blusters, reaching blindly for his towel as Hawks takes a step towards him.

“I know you want me.” Hawks’ eyes are a deep, liquid golden and filled with curiosity as he takes an obvious look at Enji’s package. “I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. Sidelong glances at team up briefings, checking out my ass before we go in for joint interviews with the newscasters. And look – you’re half-hard just at the prospect of me getting you off.” And it’s true – Enji looks down and sees that his own dick is growing increasingly harder as the conversation continues. He moves to cover himself with a single large hand. The damn towel is just out of reach.

Hawks flaps his wet wings, splattering Enji with tiny raindrops of hot water. He lifts off the ground a bit, coming towards the Flame Hero. Enji steps backward quickly to avoid a collision. Within moments, his back is against the warm tiled shower wall as Hawks hovers in front of him, contemplatively.

“You want me.” Hawks doesn’t say it as a question, but rather states it as a hard, biting fact. The Winged Hero’s mouth curves into a teasing smile when Enji doesn’t argue.

Of course Enji wants Hawks.

For months he’s been taking more and more notice of just how…attractive he finds the younger hero. Typically civilians, reporters and peers are too intimidated by Enji to flirt with him. And yet Hawks does. Hawks has been a massive flirt since their first encounter – he pushes and prods and smirks in that unique, infuriating way of his. He has never been afraid of Enji – and to a hero who has never known tenderness from others…that is so incredibly sexy.

“Shut up, Hawks.” If looks could kill, Endeavor’s glare would have Hawks buried 6 feet down in a grave. This makes Hawks’ smile grow impossibly larger. He’s hovering at eyelevel with Enji, his wings flapping powerfully behind him to keep him alight. Hawks moves impossibly closer until the two are a breath apart.

“You’re such a noble man, Number One. You saved – what – 40 people today? Let yourself relax. Take what you want.” Hawks whispers smoothly, his breath damp and hot against Enji’s face.

Enji closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, trying to regulate himself to keep his face from bursting into flames from the sheer intensity of this exchange. Hawks notices the shift and moves to give the larger hero airspace. He drops to the ground, letting his wings fall into their typical resting place behind his back.

Enji takes a few deep, calming breaths before he opens his eyes and looks down at the now-grounded Hawks.

“We can’t.” He says stiffly, shifting on his feet. He feels his now fully-erect length bounce against his toned stomach.

Hawks looks up into Enji’s piercing eyes and shrugs.

“Fine, we won’t hook up. But you’re hard as a rock right now, Number One. You’re going to need to jerk yourself off to get rid of that before you walk through the halls of your agency. One look at that hard-on and your employees are slapping you with a sexual harassment case.” Hawks points down at Enji’s dick without looking. The Flame Hero groans in embarrassment and exasperation. He can feel his cheeks flush at the comment – if it wasn’t apparent that he was into Hawks before, it’s undeniably clear now. His hard cock is a blatant acknowledgement of his attraction to the Wing Hero.

Hawks, as usual, continues to do all the talking.

“Okay, let’s compromise.” He says, looking Enji straight in the eye. The blonde pops open the bottle of the tube in his hands and makes a show of pouring a glob of thick gel into his left palm. “I’ll start you off, and then you finish the job.”

“What!? Wait, Hawks - ” But Enji finds he can’t finish his sentance as he’s overcome with the feeling of Hawks’ lubed up hand sliding down to the base of his cock. His eyes widen in horror as he watches the blonde spread lube across his impossibly hard erection and begin to slowly jerk him off. He then glides his hand up the length of Enji’s cock, pumping just beneath the sensitive head a few times before sliding back towards his balls.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Hawks’ voice is syrupy, but there’s a serious undertone to it. Enji can tell that for once, the blonde is being sincere.

Enji says nothing.

Hawks takes this as permission to continue. He works at Eni’s cock for a handful of moments in a way that makes the larger hero see stars. After a few minutes, Hawks drops to his knees for a better vantage point – allowing for easier access to Enji’s cock and balls with his capable hands. Enji is absolutely melting into the tile wall behind him. He can’t remember the last time he’s been touched like this. Hawks is so confident in his delivery – he seems to know exactly where to touch to maximize Enji’s gratification.

As usual, Hawks has a wide smile plastered on his face. He’s clearly enjoying the view as he looks up at the imposing planes of Enji’s muscled body from his place on the ground.

“Alright, Endeavor. Let’s see how you like the Fierce Wings Tremor. It’s a special move I’ve been working on.” A small feather detaches itself from Hawks’ wings and flutters down beneath Enji’s balls; it flattens itself against his testicles and begins to lightly vibrate. Hawks continues to pump Enji’s cock, and the red-haired hero can’t help but let out a soft moan at the incredible combination of sensations.

“That’s so hot Number One. Keep making that noise.” Hawks practically moans himself as he feels Enji’s member twitch between his fingers. He stares, eyes wide, as he admires just how thick and hot the Flame Hero’s massive cock is. He’s enjoying the way he’s making Endeavor into a large, sex-starved mess. Enji lets out a long, low moan as the blonde rolls a lubed-up finger across the head of his cock. Hawks licks his lips, pausing before he asks an unthinkable question. “Endeavor…mind if I suck your dick?”

Enji goes silent. Hawks notices the way the older hero’s body is suddenly tense again. Endeavor’s wall is back up.

“Hey – it’s fine. We can just keep doing this.” Hawks soothes, continuing to tug at his colleague’s length.

“Hawks…we should stop.” Enji’s voice is almost an octave lower than usual. His eyes are a bit glazed over - a mixture of exhaustion and desire making them hazy.

“But Number One, I’m just getting started!” Hawks says airily. “Let me at least make you cum. I can do it so much faster if you let me use my mouth a little.”

Enji sighs deeply, steeling himself. “Hawks. You know my wife has been hospitalized for quite some time. This isn’t something I’m used to – it’s been so long since I’ve been intimate with someone, my lust clearly is impairing my judgment here. So well I’m flattered that you want to do this, I think this is a good stopping point.”

Hawks lets his feather drop away from Enji’s balls. It flies up and returns to it’s allotted spot on the underside of his left wing.

“Oh…you mean you haven’t…since you and your wife?” Hawks’ eyes widen a bit in understanding. “You mean no one’s gone down on you in like…what – 10 years?!”

Enji shifts uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze.

“Hold on Number One – have you ever gotten your dick sucked!? It seems like you were fine with all of this until I mentioned giving you a BJ.” Hawks says incredulously. Enji can understand his disbelief. Hawks is young – he’s 22 and horny. He’s likely only been having sex for a few years now so it’s all still new and fuzzy and electric. Enji remembers being young like that – making out with a classmate his last year at UA in order to get closer to her Pro Hero father, losing his virginity in the back office of his work study to a much older Pro Hero to get put on better cases and patrols. These few sexual experiences had been relatively quick and emotionless for Enji.

The truth is – he and Rei had gotten married so young and for the sole purpose of producing strong, unbeatable Todoroki heirs. Nights with Rei had been purely transactional. The couple had done what was necessary to create a child, and no more. Sex for Enji had never been focused on pleasure – it had become a tool to get what he wanted.

And yet…he remembers how he had felt in his twenties: being so horny he could barely stand it. There were nights he couldn’t wait to get home from work to fuck his wife just for the feel of her tight around his cock. He looks back at those memories now, ashamed at the way he had always put his needs above her own. His wife had deserved an attentive lover, not someone who was always taking. He was always just showing up to her bed to get off and plant his seed.

“Hey, Number One – you tired? You’re zoning out on me.” Hawks snaps Enji’s thoughts back to the present with his sarcastic, lazy drawl.

“To answer your question truthfully…no, I’ve never had oral sex.”

Hawks throws his head back and laughs. It’s not mocking though – he seems more tickled with the situation than anything.

“Well lucky me – first one to suck off Endeavor.”

Enji’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“You can’t seriously mean you’re going to - ” But he’s cut off by the achingly wonderful sensation of Hawks’ mouth on his dick. The winged hero has slipped his lips around the mushroom head of Enji’s thick cock, and is sucking softly. He looks up at Endeavor, his eyes mischievous.

“Hawks, we can’t do this.” Enji says firmly. His dick is saying otherwise – pleasure the likes of which Enji has never known is coursing through his length as Hawks uses his tongue to swirl circles around Enji’s tip.

Hawks extricates himself from Enji’s cock with a wickedly wet “pop” of his lips. He tilts his head to the side and looks up questioningly at the Number One hero.

“Why not?” He says simply. Enji meets his gaze and doesn’t miss the way that the winged hero’s pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Well for one, this facility is open to all of the male heroes in my employ. This is not a private setting whatsoever.”

Hawks shrugs. “I don’t mind getting caught. Besides, if any of your sidekicks tattle on us, no one will believe them. The top two heroes going at it? Ha! Even I can’t believe it – and I’ve got your dick in my hand right now.”

Enji cocks an eyebrow. “Your indifference to this is insane.”

“I’m very chill. Sue me.” Hawks takes a moment to roll his shoulders and shake out his wings. “But if it would make you uncomfortable, I can post some feathers outside the door so we get plenty of warning if someone decides to come this way.” Instantly, two tiny feathers shoot out from Hawks’ wings – zinging through the hallway, past the lockers and out of sight.

Hawks looks up at Endeavor with shining eyes of gold, his expression hard to read. “Better?”

Endeavor huffs. “Not quite. Hawks - we’re colleagues. This is inappropriate. Think of what people would say if they found out.”

Hawks snorts. “Endeavor…do you know how many Pro Hero’s I’ve fucked in the past year alone?”

Enji had always known there was a big hookup culture among Pros, especially the younger ones. How could there not be? The Pro Hero community is filled to the brim with attractive, talented individuals who share a common goal. It’s no surprise that Hawks has been sleeping around with their colleagues.

“Fair point.” Enji concedes. Hawks gives the Flame Hero’s cock a light stroke in response, grinning. Enji tries to ignore the wave of pleasure that washes over him at each flick of Hawks’ strong hand.

Enji deliberately holds Hawks’ gaze, and avoids looking at the way the blonde’s hand is wrapped around his hard member. “But then there’s this – Hawks, I’m old enough to be your father.”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. Enji instantly regrets the words leaving his mouth when he sees a maniacal gleam light up in Hawks’ eyes.

“Oh, I’ve definitely thought about that already...” Hawks leans in and licks a hot stripe up the underside of Enji’s cock, causing it to twitch. He looks up at Endeavor with his big beautiful golden eyes and says the next word in a soft whisper.

“…Daddy.”

At the word, something inside Endeavor snaps. He’s all lust, completely overcome with the need to shove Hawks to the ground, to teach him a damn lesson with his thick, fiery cock. He wants to bend the winged hero over and fuck him until he cries out for mercy. Hawks is strong, sure. But Endeavor can say with almost complete confidence that he is stronger. It would be easy to turn the tables here, to ensure that Hawks is the one breathing heavily, begging to cum.

But no, Endeavor doesn’t do any of these things. Instead he stays stock still and utters a single, harsh word in response to the blonde hero’s ministrations:

“Fuck.”

That’s all the invitation Hawks needs. He smiles broadly as he leans in and cups Enji’s balls with a rough hand. Within seconds he’s licking up and down the Flame Hero’s length with abandon, swirling his tongue in delicate patterns across the hard flesh.

“You’re too serious, Number One.” Hawks barks out a laugh when Enji’s fingers dig their way into his thick hair. “Let me help you lighten up a little.”

Enji’s face is burning hot with a mixture of embarrassment and hunger. Against his better judgment, he lets Hawks take control. The winged hero moves a hand gently massage the soft inner flesh of Enji’s left thigh for a few moments. He seems almost entranced by Enji’s thick member. Enji wonders smugly if it’s bigger than what Hawks is used to, if he’ll know how to handle such an intimidating co-

All thoughts in Enji’s mind evaporate as Hawks wraps his hot, chatty mouth around the flame hero’s cock. In one fluid motion, he slides down the shaft to take in a few generous inches. He repositions his hands so that one is still fondling Enji’s balls, while the other is slowly pumping the cock’s base.

Within seconds, Hawks is bobbing up and down on the thick dick of Japan’s Number One Hero. He hollows out his cheeks and focuses on pleasuring the head for a few moments before moving down to take a few more inches. Enji feels his dick hit the back of Hawks’ hot throat. He sees the way the hero breathes in through his nose and relaxes his muscles, swallowing Enji’s length down easily. He seems to have experience at this.

Enji can’t take his eyes off the sight – it’s so hot, so ridiculously sexy. He feels oddly…powerful? Standing above the cheeky twenty-something, being pleasured by the prince of the hero charts.

He decides to push his luck a little.

“Ah. That’s right, bow down to the Number One Hero.” He teases, winding Hawks’ golden curls loosely around his fingers and giving a soft tug. “Glad you know your place, Hawks. You belong on your knees, pretty bird. I bet I can have my assistant draw up a contract to onboard you as my own personal slut.”

Enji’s not quite sure where that last sentence came from, but it feels like the right mood. Hawks eyes widen in response. For a brief moment he seems to loose focus and chokes a bit on Enji’s dick. He moves as if he’s going to pull away for a breath, but quickly composes himself and doubles down on his efforts. He continues to sloppily deep throat Enji’s cock in the most delicious way. Enji is impressed.

“Weren’t expecting that were you?” Enji tugs on Hawks’ hair again, eliciting a moan from the back of the Number 2 Hero’s throat. The vibration of the groan ricochets up Enji’s dick and through his body like a bolt of electricity. “Oh, you liked that?” Enji gives another soft pull at Hawks’ beautiful damp curls before moving his hands down to grip the hero’s jaw. Enji makes eye contact with the blonde to ensure that he’s not being too rough. He then shifts his weight a bit and thrusts lightly into Hawks’ mouth. Hawks accommodates him easily, continuing to breathe through his nose as Enji gains some speed, fucking his face.

They continue in this way for a bit – Enji giving and Hawks silently taking. After a few minutes, Hawks taps Enji’s leg lightly to indicate that he needs a break. He pulls his mouth off of the Flame Hero’s dick with a wet smack, drool dripping down his chin. His eyes are unfocused and fucked-out. Any cheeky façade has all but vanished.

“Endeavor…” Hawks whispers hoarsely, dropping his forehead to rest against Enji’s muscular thigh for a moment as he catches his breath.

“You…You can call me Enji.” The Flame Hero says softly. “While we’re doing this.”

“Enji.” Hawks says, rolling the name around his tongue. “Enji. It suits you.”

Hearing the name come off of Hawks’ lips feels almost…intimate. Enji’s not sure if he likes it.

“What should I call you?” Enji says softly, moving his hand to card through Hawks’ thick hair.”

A pause.

“Just Hawks. I don’t have any other name.” Hawks says in a small voice. He sounds broken, vulnerable. Enji feels shaky at the tone. He never expected to speak to the winged hero with this much openness, and he’s not sure how to proceed. They rest in silence for a few moments, Hawks breathing heavily with his sweaty face on Enji’s leg and Enji awkwardly petting his head. It doesn’t feel appropriate to ask any more questions about Hawks’ true name.

After what feels like an eternity, Hawks pulls back and looks back up at Enji. He’s still on his knees, wings folded behind him haphazardly. From this angle Enji can see the blonde’s full erection, his dick full and dripping with arousal. Enji’s mouth almost waters at the image.

“Well, Enji.” The blonde smirks and narrows his eyes up at the Flame Hero. Hawks has seemed to gain back a bit of his old swagger, but his voice still holds breathiness to it. “You ready to have your mind blown by the Number Two hero?”

“I’m ready and waiting.” Enji says, as teasingly as he can. He mentally kicks himself for being so damn awkward at this.

“Well sit back and relax, because I’m about to lay down my ultimate move.” He winks, and reaches out to begin stroking Enji with renewed vigor. Enji moans at the contact and lets his head fall back against the warm tiled wall. Hawks’ movements are different now. He’s taking his time, working at Enji’s dick slowly in an effort to draw out as much pleasure as possible. When his lips wrap back around Enji’s cock, they move slowly and teasingly up and down the hard length.

Enji feels he’s fit to burst at any moment. Then he feels Hawks’ fingers beginning to wander.

“Absolutely not.” He says sharply as Hawks’ hand caresses his right ass cheek.

“Just relax and let me drive. I promise you’ll like this.”

And, against his better judgment, Enji settles back against the wall and lets Hawks work.

The winged hero continues to bob his head up and down Enji’s cock, while the fingers of his right hand slowly move between Enji’s ass cheeks. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for. He gently moves his index finger to circle Enji’s hole.

“Hawks!” Enji practically spits at the intrusion. No one has ever touched him there and it’s a jarring feeling.

Hawks chuckles but continues to circle the tight knot, noting the embarrassment in Enji’s face as he does so. He pops his mouth off of Endeavor’s dick and says soothingly “just relax into it – once you get over the shock, it feels amazing. I promise.”

Enji takes a deep breath and does as Hawks says, trying to stay loose and engage with the feeling. He screws his eyes shut with the effort.

“That’s it, Number One.” Hawks coos, continuing to move his fingers around the rim of Enji’s hole. The blonde hero moves to take Enji’s dick in his mouth again as he continues to work at his colleague’s ass. Within seconds, Enji lets out a loud, sensual moan.

“What did I say Enji? I’m a bird of my word.” Hawks mutters before he speeds up his pace.

Enji can feel himself coming undone at Hawks’ touch. The birdbrained hero was absolutely right – the finger gently circling his ass is making him see stars. That, combined with Hawks’ sensual dick sucking is driving him over the edge.

“Hawks.” He whispers. “Hawks! I’m going to…”

Hawks draws the orgasm out of him quickly, and the pleasure crashes over Enji like a wave, threatening to drown him. For a moment, he forgets to breathe as he watches Hawks quickly pull his mouth off of Enji’s cock before getting splattered with cum, the thick liquid dripping down his smooth chest.

Hawks throws back his head and laughs gleefully as he pumps Enji’s dick, helping him ride out his orgasm. Enji groans as he finishes, fireworks sparking off behind his eyes as he comes down from his high.

It takes a few minutes for Enji to come back into himself. Even after he’s finished, he’s still gasping for breath. He feels shaky and exhausted, but the happy hormones flowing through his body make him feel the most relaxed he’s been in weeks.

“Wow.” He states simply, running a finger through his bright, sweaty hair. He’s never had a sexual experience quite like that. The situation had felt so charged, so intense. The feeling is strangely addicting. He’s still exhausted, but he wants more. Is this how sex is supposed to feel!? He looks over at Hawks, who is now up on his feet and rinsing himself off under Enji’s abandoned shower.

“What a waste of water, Number One.” He says, glancing over his shoulder at Enji as he scrubs a bar of soap across his sticky chest. “If the Green Party finds out about this, they’ll come for your agency for sure.”

All Enji can do for a moment is stare. He’s never quite let himself enjoy Hawks’ beauty before. He’s always found Hawks to be an attractive man – but he had always forced himself to remain professional in his presence. That meant any glances at Hawks’ physique were stolen. Any dirty thoughts carefully tucked away without a second thought. But now, alone in the Endeavor Hero Agency shower facility…Enji allows himself to look all he wants. He wants to get his fill of Hawks before things go back to the way they usually are – the top 2 heroes. Colleagues who mostly get on each other’s nerves.

The florescent light bounces off of Hawks’ slick, wet body. His wavy blonde hair glows almost golden in the lowlight. Enji’s orgasm clouded mind thinks vaguely that the younger hero is sculpted like a piece of art – he’s all perfect proportions and thick cords of muscle. And oh, his dick…there, bouncing prominently between the Winged Hero’s muscular thighs is a formidable member that’s clearly still half-hard under the running water. Enji allows himself admire the golden happy trail that softly tapers down Hawks’ toned stomach. He enjoys the way that Hawks’ package bounces and rolls each time he shifts his weight to gain better access to the stream of hot water raining down on him from above.

Hawks continues to lather himself up, closing his eyes as he rinses the last of Enji’s cum off of his body. He has his bright red angel wings puffed out to avoid the hot water, the pose makes him look like some sort of mythological creature. A beautiful demigod chimera -half man, half beast.

Once he’s done, he steps out from under the gentle stream of water and begins to run through some light stretches. He massages slowly behind his calf, working to get the blood flowing. Enji realizes with some guilt that surely the hero’s legs have cramped up after kneeling for so long. When Enji inquires if this is the case, Hawks waves him off with an errant hand.

“I’ve been trained to withstand all sorts of crazy torture scenarios. Being stuck in a single position like that and muscle strain don’t really bother me at this point. However…” Hawks begins massaging the muscles surrounding his mouth. “I do have one helluva cramp in my jaw after sucking for so long. That happens sometimes.” He looks at Endeavor pointedly.

“Well you need to learn to take things in moderation then.” Enji huffs; half-joking, half-admonishing.

Hawks grins at him. “Try telling me to ‘Take it in moderation’ next time I’m between your thighs sucking on your-”

But Hawks’ pert response is cut short, as Enji reaches out and hauls the blonde hero across the slick tiles before he can finish his sentence. The Number Two Hero’s mouth seems to be stuck in a small “o” of surprise as he feels himself turned around   so that his round, muscular ass is flush against Enji’s spent cock.

“Hey, Number One – what are you…?” Hawks begins to ask, but Enji cuts him off again with a brisk request.

“Send away your feathers for a moment, Hawks. I’ve seen you do it before. Lose the wings.” Enji uses his most authoritative “Number One Hero” voice, and is surprised when Hawks obliges without complaints.

There’s a quick swirl of red as the soft feathers fly in all directions, leaving Hawks’ muscular back almost completely naked. All that remains are two small, feathery stumps. Enji runs a fingertip lightly around the base of one of the downy nubbins and is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath form the winged hero.

“You’re so vulnerable like this.” Enji almost whispers, caressing the tiny wing again. “I bet you never get touched like this.” Enji puts more pressure on the area and Hawks whines aloud. The Flame Hero smirks at the reaction. Now that Hawks’ full wings are gone, Enji is able to wrap his arms more securely around the shorter man’s toned frame.

“You thought you were going to get away that easily, huh? Just get me off and disappear without retribution?” Enji says coolly, hands moving to grip Hawks’ defined hips. For a nanosecond he sees something like fear dart across Hawks’ eyes, before the carefree mask retakes his features. “You’re not getting away that easily, little hero.”

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

End of Part 1 of 2

Part 2 Linked Here!

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

[kokusfluffyhair]

Hiiii! I have such a good request, it’s been on my mind for quite a while now! So can we get a Muzan x reader? She’s been with him since he was human, she loves his long hair. She gets really annoyed and sad that he cuts it. She literally has a mental breakdown because he cuts it. She’s really over dramatic btw.

I can’t blame her though, muzan with long hair was just… 🥵…

Muzan Cuts His Hair

Muzan blinked his eyes as he gave you a dull stare.

"What ... is the problem?"

He can't comprehend what the fuss is about. All he did was cut his hair so that it was easier to move around in. He accidentally burnt some split ends into it too many times while developing his demon attacks.

"How could you, Muzan!?" you whine, sobbing and covering your face.

"It's hair," is all Muzan can say.

"It was so beautiful! If you didn't want to make split ends, you could have tied it up! Muzaaaaaaann!!"

"I do not have the intention to waltz around like some of these cocky young samurai do with their long ponytails."

You scream. "How could you have done this without asking me!?"

Muzan sighs and tries to walk away.

"No!" you wail and run to him, grabbing onto his clothes to keep him from moving away. "You need to regrow your hair! You can do that, can't you? Regrow it just -- just -- halfway to what it was before! Pleeeassee!"

"No. Stop making a fuss."

"You're not the same anymore!"

"I am the same. It's hair."

"Muzaaaann!!"

He takes a deep breath and takes your hands, removing them from his clothes before he turns to face you. "Y/n. It's still my hair. It's still wavy. It's still soft. It's my hair. This conversation is over."

His coldness to the situation makes you cry even more and you fall to your knees begging him to somehow grow his hair back.

"I will let it grow back naturally. Does that suit you?"

He's not really going to, but by the time it grows back past his shoulders, you would have been used to the new length anyway and wouldn't be so whiny about it. He thinks.

"Why naturally, Muzan!? We're demons! We don't have to do anything naturally!"

"I cannot grow it back on its own."

"How!?" you start to become more demanding. "You can grow more brains and more hearts but you can't grow more hair!?"

He gives you a blank stare. "I can't. So, you'll have to be patient." His eyes slid to the side as he looked out of the corners of his vision, noticing Tamayo loitering around by the door. "Deal with Tamayo."

"Tamayo?" you ask in a surprised tone.

Muzan gestures with his chin towards the door.

You look and see her back away. "Oh ..."

Muzan starts to leave.

"Where are you going?" you ask him.

"To try to turn that red spider lily I have blue. Now, either continue crying here or forget about my hair and come help me."

You decide to give in for the time being and help Muzan with his experiments. If anything, you simply did not want to end up having to talk to Tamayo.

By the way, you do get your way and he grows his hair back somehow. Here's Muzan in the Sengoku Era with his short hair:

And here's him later when he turns Akaza into a demon:

And Muzan in Hantengu's backstory:

So, you'll get plenty more time to enjoy his luscious locks 😁

[4shtronomy]

PETER'S SPIDER HABILITIES

Hi! In here you'll see my hdc about what h abilities did Peter acquire from the spider bite! It WILL require for me to write major spoilers ahead of what I have planned for my fic: "The chaos of Peter's life and everyone discovering it" so read with that in mind!! If you don't read my fic I think it will still be pretty detailed regardless, but you do you! :)

Most of my information is a sum of my own knowledge, some headcanons, and me reading some absurdly large article's about spiders and their characteristics. Do keep in mind that I've decided that because the spider was radioactive and an experiment, I don't care about what kind of spider bit him because I think it's fair to think they also cross bred spiders.

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD FOR MY FIC!!!

Venomous fangs:

After the spider bite, the venom of said spider not only changed his DNA drastically, but it also moved said venom on top of his mouth into recently acquired (from the change of DNA) venom glands. His fangs also got larger by taking some of the matter inside the teeth and moving it to make it pointy. Therefore leaving a tube like hole for the venom to come out of.

This venom comes out from these fangs automatically in small quantities (because the hole goes straight down, so gravity pulls it down, unlike with actual spiders), and in larger and faster quantities if actively injecting it. So to stop it he has to actively stop it.

That will cause him to accidentally poison himself at every moment without even realizing, and actively poison himself further everytime he eats. Because his venom is the same as the spider that gave him powers, that means he'll progressively and slowly but exponentally, get stronger and new powers.

One day, he'll accidentally bite himself and he'll suddenly get a big power boost (because it'll be injected by blood and not digested and dissolved by his digestive system). After realising (with the help of Dr Banner) that he has been poisoning himself, he'll learn to stop it from happening.

Regrowth of limbs:

After he accidentally bits himself, one of the powers that he'll acquire will be being able to regrow limbs, but like spiders, they will grow smaller.

That will (maybe) be discovered with Dr Banner when they're doing some tests. But when it'll be used for sure will be in the fight against thanos (or more exactly, after). There, he'll lose one or more limbs, and while they regrow and after, will have to adapt. (I haven't ever lost an arm, so I don't know the struggle first hand, I'll try to get as educated as possible for when the time comes, but if I ever get anything wrong tell me please! Also, any tips are appreciated!)

Stickiness:

In my researched I've found that some spiders aren't inherently sticky, but get by by other factors. I personally have some sciency freak (and absolutely bizarre and not possible) theory I like:

The reason why Peter had problems controlling this power is because it works in a very strange and difficult way. His atoms got changed by the radioactive part of the spider and now, when he touches any surface, if he doesn't actively try not to stick, his atoms will unstabilize the atoms of the surface he's in contact with and create covalent bonds with them.

When he actively tries not to stick, his brain sends something (idk what) to his nervous system that stops his atoms from sticking.

This will be a major plot point, when he gets some limb amputated, someone (don't ask who because I don't know either) will bite the not attached limb to try to adquire his powers, and all his atoms will go like crazy and it'll make a nuclear explosion.

(Don't say it doesn't make sense, I know it doesn't make sense, but I like it guys...)

Spidey sense:

Here I'll just explain where it comes from. It comes down to 3 things.

The enhanced senses. This doesn't have any important and specified hdc except sight. All the other ones are just an enlargement/enhancement of the parts of the body that help our bodies have those senses. An example would be that he has much more nerves in every part of his body.

Eyesight. This one is like he developed invisible and not noticable spider eyes inside his pupils. There he gets better eyesight and some (not a lot) night vision.

Body hair. His body hair is a lot more perceptive, like spiders trichobothria (their hairs), that feel vibrations and air currents.

Talking to spiders:

He is able to communicate with spiders, but he doesn't realise it's in another "language", it's like when you're bilingual and talking to someone in a language and without realizing say words in another one.

He doesn't really appreciate them at first, because he's scared of them after the bite, but he'll get to love them and maybe have a spider army (not an army, because I'm anti war but UK it sounds good).

Super strength:

His muscles got bigger to make him have the relative strength of a spider. And his muscle tissue got doubled.

Super senses:

His hearing gets to like 2 blocks away for people talking and 6 feet away for heartbeats. (Please don't ask about the ratio and how it doesn't make sense, it's approximately and I'm European so I don't even understand the American system.)

His eyesight isn't out of the normal for humans, but he has better eyesight because he had to wear glasses and now he doesn't. He did get a little bit of night vision though.

He can feel things to the very next level, he has a lot of sensory issues like autistic people (me).

He can smell from 11 feet away things that if they were a feet away we would barely smell.

He can taste a lot of the ingredients more, and if it has a very strong flavour, even the kitchenware that it was cooked with too.

Other characteristics:

He can't thermoregulate, because spiders are cold blooded. That will be one of the major points that will make him realise he's in live with Johnny.

He's short because he was already short before the spider bite, but female spiders are a lot bigger than male ones, so he'll never get taller than 157cm.

He's got some instincts about prey and wanting to tie them with webbing. That's one of the reasons why he started to tie criminals like that.

He's allergic to peppermint and mint.

His instincts make him want to be upside down most of the time.

Thank you so much for reading if you've reached this! I've tapped a lot and you can probably see how invested I am with this jshsiahaja but again, THANK YOU SM!!!

And some more that will be created in my mind in the future!

Increased: stamina, speed and flexibility.

Healing factor (it's own whole thing)

（｡>‿‿<｡ ）

[gaysindistress]

I’m having ✨minthara brain rot✨so suffer with me

bg3 masterlist

So hear me out; Minthara doesn’t end up with Tav. In fact, Tav goes off with their first romanced, Gale and they get married. Minthara is upset for obvious reasons but she’s not going to beg Tav to stay with her or anything like that. They’re both adults and she refuses to stoop so low as to damage her dignity like that. This leads to her going to the underdark alone and doing a bunch of badass shit (we’ll get there).

The epilogue comes and goes but that’s not where we pick up.

Our story starts about 5 years after that. Tav is being asked to do some adventurer shit that requires them to go to the Underdark. Something about Spawn going missing and Astarion is worried so he asks his friend to help out. Gale isn’t happy about it but he’s not going to stop them either. He and minthara weren’t exactly friendly or even civil most of the time so he’s not thrilled about it. The problem is that Tav refuses to ignore this request and will not say no, leaving Gale in a rather unpleasant position. All he can do is go with Tav and protect them.

Minthara has successfully taken back her family house and is in the process of rebuilding society following the defeat of the Spider-Queen. During all of this, she meets her bride to be, you. Among the many of forlorn travelers and lost souls, a small band of drow find themselves stranded and desperate for a miracle. Your house had been taken during a battle with the Spider-Queen and you have yet to find another house willing to take you in. Minthara comes across your group as her army and her are surveying recent encounters.

A rather foul squelching sound, that of a blade through flesh, rings through the air as Minthara leads her people into the ruins of House Lelith. As she approaches what may have been a a once elegant home, she hears small grunts and huffs coming from just beyond the archway. She sends three soldiers forward in efforts to flank whoever may be inside before taking up the back.

“If you’ve come to finish us off, speak now and I shall grant you the mercy of a quick death,” a soft yet powerful voice murmurs from her left. A sting and a trail of warm blood seeping from it brings shock and mild surprise but nothing is able to shake Minthara to her core as the sight of you.

She spares the briefest of glances towards you and is completely ill prepared for the pandemonium that washes over her.

“Speak before I split your tongue and cleave your heart,” you demand once more and press the blade more so into her neck. She makes no show that it causes her pain aside from the slight flinch of her skin.

“I hold no loyalty to that viper of a queen if that is what you’re asking,” she casually replies while her heart beats wildly. Your armor is in disrepair; bloodied, torn, and hanging together by haphazard threads but you still wear it with pride. The rest of you is a similar state with your hair unbound and wild while spotted with viscera but your beauty is unmatched.

“If not for her, then who?”

“Do you truly not know who i am?”

She can feel your eyes narrow and scrutinize her before you remove your blade and place it in its sheath.

“Minthara of House Baenre of Menzoberranzan,” you state as you prowl around her and stop only when you’re merely inches away, “A former follower of the Absolute and Oathbreaker.”

Her nose flares at your last words, causing you to chuckle as you cross your arms and lean against the archway. “Touch a nerve did I?”

“Are you one of her little spiderlings?” she instead asks, too overcome by you to engage in any form of clever conversation.

“I should think my declaration to sever your head from your body would answer that question, my lady. Or did the tadpole eat away at your brain more than we’ve been led to believe?”

Her small smirk is what captured you and from that day on, you’ve been nearly inseparable. Your romance appeared to be a complete myth as few ever saw you interact outside of political encounters. Those close to you, however, see the small well times glances, the softest of smiles, and the secret touches between the two of you. Minthara may not be outright in her love and devotion for you but she shows it in her fierce desire to protect you. Never out of sight of you, Minthara is always aware of where you are and who is near you. It is rare that she is even out of reach of you but alas duty calls and this is not possible.

In your private quarters, it is an entirely different matter. Her head is forever resting on your shoulder or in your lap as she basks in your warmth and affection. Many nights you take on the task of doing her hair. She lounges in the bath as you gently work through whatever knots and tangles hide in her moon pale strands. By the fire, she’ll rest her head against your knee as she sits between your legs and you brush out her wet hair. Her eyes flutter closed at the care you take to not pull or tug on her scalp. Quiet moans slip out when you graze her ears and when you chuckle at them, she groans out a weak demand to be silent.

“It is you who cannot be silent, my fearsome beloved.”

She’s told you of Tav but to be truthful it is too caught up in the trauma that she suffered under Orin and the Absolute. Thinking of Tav is often too difficult to manage and with you, there is no need to dredge up old wounds as such. That’s not to say you’re unprepared for meeting Tav but let’s be honest with ourselves, anyone would be unprepared to meet the Hero of Baldurs Gate. Everything is a whirl wind upon their arrival with Astarion making his presence well known, Gale and Wyll discussing whatever it is they talk about it, Karlach and Halsin playful daring each other to lift heavy objects. All the while Shadowheart and Tav are quickly discussing something with Minthara and occasionally asking for Astarion’s input. You are standing just beside the door, waiting for your intended and leader to give a command.

Tav makes a comment about the sheer number of people in the room and not so subtly requests the room to be cleared. Minthara glances around and with a slight nod her people file out, leaving the heroic adventure party and yourself. Tav throws a confused look your way as do the others but Minthara ignores it to lead them to the map of the Underdark she has displayed.

Nearly 10 minutes pass before Tav outright asks about your presence and once more requests that you leave. Ever the observers, Shadowheart and Astarion are quick to notice something is different about you. You are not merely a soldier, a trusted advisor even. Much like the first time you met, you’re causally leaning against a pillar with your arms crossed over armor that’s identical to Minthara’s. They share a look of an epiphany before attempting to quiet Tav however their efforts are futile.

As soon as Tav asks who you are and why you’re still here, you take your opportunity to humble the leader.

“Who I am is none of your concern. we are not on the surface where you can demand things because you simply think you are owed them. You’d do well to remember that you are in the Underdark. This is not your domain and thus have no semblance of authority here. All you’re entitled to know is that Minthara, my lady and my leader, trusts me.”

Tav looks absolutely stunned to hear you speak so directly and curtly but it is Minthara who has the most shocking reaction. She calls to you drow, beckoning you closer because you’re too far from her as is and she may or may not be feeling the urge to ravish you in front of everyone. Minthara may not be one for displays of affection but her not correcting you makes it very clear that you are the single most important person to her and she values you above all else.

Tav be damned.