#(and apparently getting a bunch of details wrong)

[greentrickster]

You know, of all the insane fandoms we have out there right now, you know which one always shocks me the most?

The Moomin fandom.

Which probably sounds like fighting words, but hear me out.

I'm thirty-six, and I did grow up with the Moomins. Specifically, I grew up with two of the novels - A Comet in Moominland (got when I was six or seven) and Finn Family Moomin (got when I was about ten). And I loved them. I still love them. I still have both books, and I know which bookshelf they're on in my room.

But, y'all.

That was my entire experience with the Moomins.

For around twenty. Years.

And when I say entire, I mean entire, the only other person I knew who had any idea what a 'Moomin' was was my sister, and that's because Mom read the books out loud to both of us. I thought that was it. I vaguely knew there were some more novels, because they were listed on one of the inside pages, but I genuinely thought it was just an old, obscure series of kids' novels.

Then, a few years back? I discover that

No.

That is Not The Case Even A Little Bit. The Moomin fandom is here and wholesome and HUGE. And there is so much media with it. And it has apparently Always Been Like this, I just wasn't ever in an area or era where I could encounter it when I was young.

And now I'm over here going, "What do you mean Snufkin's brunette? What do you mean he has hair? What do you mean he's human???" Because, to me, this is the first image I think of when I think of him:

That's Snufkin to me. And, given the context that he's surrounded by a bunch of critters, I just assumed that he was a fellow critter. His more detailed, coloured design is great, not gonna argue, but, even having known about it for years, seeing it is always very jarring to me.

And it's weird to realize that this is probably a pretty unique experience, not (just) because looking things up on the internet wasn't really an option at the time, not because I was in the wrong place, but because I just genuinely came to these stories and characters in an extremely strange way. Meaning every time I encounter the Moomin fandom, I get a small shock of, "Oh, right, this was not, in fact, an extremely niche series after all."

And no drama or toxicity or ground-breaking moment is ever gonna top that for me.

[itsbenedict]

From the beginning | Previously | Coin standings | 60/70 | 36/36

Walter wants to go check out what was happening down in that sunken temple, but Adea doesn't want to just leave all this dirt sitting here- and she's just plugged in that coin miner thingy, so they'll need to sit around for a bit to see if it works anyway.

IT PREVENTED ROOK POWER EXTRUSION is OVIOS NETWORK EXPENDITURE REPORT. Apparently, about 14 years ago, the municipal government started deploying some project called the OpenVista I/O Station network. OPENVISTA is, on paper, an independent startup, but apparently it's a shell corporation established so Thinrar could dodge some of his own restrictions on public works. The report details the budget that went into constructing and deploying these things- though it's not clear from the report exactly what they do.

Apparently a construction company called WIREFRAME MOCKUP was hired to simultaneously build a mall named TARGETED ADVERTISING... and force an underground funeral home type facility run by SLEEP MODE to surrender something called the LOTUS VEXOR, in exchange for letting them keep the rights to their land (which they'd been retroactively granted thanks to a surveying loophole). The project took years and went way over budget, despite someone named DEADLOCK DETECTION being sent from Thinrar's office to oversee it personally. But 14 years ago, she apparently managed to get her hands on it- a key component of the OVIOS network, somehow. The cover op, the mall construction, is set to open in a few days.

TIN RUNT CONCOCTS A QUART O' CACTI concerns an AQUATIC CONSTRUCTION CONTRACT, offered by COLLUSION to a well-regarded specialist contractor named REGRESSION TEST. It's mostly an email chain with said contractor, who had a thousand questions about the nature of the work and the equipment she was being paid to install. The emails- sent to her by someone named JUST-IN-TIME COMPILER- are evasive and noncommittal, and seem primarily concerned with getting her to agree to various nondisclosure agreements and security measures.

REGRESSION TEST's job, apparently, is just to demolish the wreckage at the build site, create some waterproof housing with enough space for maintenance staff, and install the provided equipment. That's all she's allowed to know about the HILARITY! BE A FILIAL E-CYGNET.

SPRITZ? REPENT, WRY ED COOLHAXX! is a strange set of files called PROXY WIZARD CONTEXT HELPERS. It's a dossier on... various random people in town. A university researcher with no friends, a family of small-time crooks down by the docks, various guards at this very tower, and a handful of other random citizens with no clear connecting factors. The files describe the details of their lives over a disconcertingly long period of observation, and note things that are missing from those lives. Family members they don't have, friends they've lost contact with, coworkers who quit recently. There's transcripts of interviews with some of these people, but nothing stands out as particularly odd.

There's also profiles on various properties for rent, and some odd shorthand notes that appear to describe how long they've spent vacant and what's wrong with them. And... a bunch of copies of old missing persons cases, with all the names blacked out. And statements from investigations of incidents where... disasters were averted for reasons no one understood, like an out-of-control trolley being diverted onto a track by some good samaritan who never identified themselves.

[ed: Yeah, chew on that one, FF. You'll find out what I'm on about eventually.]

This is all weird, and rings a few bells, but you're not sure what to make of it just yet. In the meantime, Adea collects 10 Coin from the minter- which seems to have really raised the ambient temperature in the room. It's probably fine, though, right? The heat's dissipating into the stone, for the most part.

Adea consults with Walter and formulates a guess. He'd been drawn underground by some mysterious force when he woke up, right? If your daughter ended up here too- and it stands to reason, because you were all right there in the same place when the blast(?) went off- maybe she was pulled down there by the same force! It's possible he just missed her- she could've gotten lost in those underground tunnels somewhere. Best to give it another once-over with an extra pair of eyes.

You head through the ancient pyramid, which... seems to be more extensive, and in better repair than it used to be. When did all this construction happen? Finding a crack in the floor leading down is more difficult than before. Earlier, it hadn't been difficult at all- Walter says some part of him knew which way to go. Did something change?

Neither of you are feeling any supernatural pull downwards anymore. The area below- save for some additional pyramid construction- is almost entirely unchanged. Which... does mean that there is a GIANT SKELETON, still. Several of them. You find a reasonably well-hidden spot to lurk and install the WIFI ACCESS POINT in the REVERT A BANDANA SURGERY SUBTERRANEAN GRAVEYARD. Files include:

Someone took issue with the performance assessment of a robot horse, around, like... thirty years ago? The email is RE: PONY SERVITOR 2076 SCORECARD, and they're not happy.

You've heard of saltwater taffy, but mousewater taffy is considerably harder to manage. Someone's done it, though: ENCODED::: WRANGLED MOUSEWATER TAFFY.

According to the LANCE GLANCE RECRUITER: PI ROTATION IS OUT. He's in charge of recruiting people who've had a close shave with spears, and he prefers to measure lance angles with tau.

An island nation called Haiti, which you've never heard of, is really mad about something- but they don't seem to want to be mad. IRATE HAITI WISHES MELLOW??? Really?

There'd been a lot of development on a faster-than-light utensil, but the product has been getting worse over time. See, a TORTOISE PROVED WARP FORK REGRESSED in this paper.

There's an invitation to the LETTERED CORRECTNESS FOUNDATION, an organization devoted to putting letters in the correct order. Sure would help if these guys weren't hallucinatory!

To be continued | 60/70 | 32/32

[illithilit]

Sometimes, inspiration comes from historical shows. Sometimes that comes from centuries old rumors of things that probably didn't happen like that.

All this is to casually say: blood eagles are a thing that do genuinely happen exactly like that or worse in the Hells, and their brand of magic will keep you alive and suffering through it as long as they so please.

As a side note, though, I suggest you only look up what I'm talking about if you're comfortable with torture and gore.

[rubberbandballqueen]

i just think that as a chemistry major i shouldn't be forced to take biology classes that expect me to memorize the everything to pass. i need some kind of "biology for chemistry majors" where they emphasize the techniques a living thing has at its disposal to remain at homeostasis and then look at how all these parts come together to form a complex living organism undergoing constant holistic processes to remain at equilibrium. i don't need to know what a golgi apparatus is called i just need to know how it serves its function in the complex process of transforming A into B

[double-o-donut]

anyway turns out the book i've been thinking of for over a decade and couldn't remember what it was called i've had it on my bookshelf this whole time

[girlbob-boypants]

That pink sauce stuff actually goes deeper now apparently

[luvsavos]

life kicks me in the ribs yet again: more than likely i won't be able to get all the money i need in time for the alatreon model, so. got excited for nothing :)

[rey-129-fan]

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU Part 3

Part 1 | Previous | Next

“Hola beauties, and welcome back to Fashionable History, I’m Paulina,”

“And I’m Star, and on this channel, we teach you how to be at the height of fashion, no matter what time period you find yourself in.”

“Now for our long-time viewers who missed our community posts, you might be wondering about the change in location.  Well, we are moving up in the world.  That’s right, fam, we are officially-

“College girlies!” The two shouted into the camera.

“Ah, such a big step,” ‘Star’ sighed.

“Indeed it is.  And to celebrate, let us dress up like we’re going to meet the queen of fashion herself: Marie Antoinette!”

***

“So you would think it would be hard to demonstrate Amity Park’s weirdness while no longer living there, but you would be wrong,” a black man said into the camera while walking down a hallway, his glasses fallen ever so slightly down his nose.  There were voices in the background progressively getting louder.  “You see, Danny’s mentor popped by this morning, and apparently, he decided that the perfect way to tutor Danny and piss off his bosses at the same time was to allow a bunch of college kids to summon a historical figure of their choosing to discuss their area of expertise.  Once a week.

“Jazz got to go first.”

The black man stopped in a doorway.  Much clearer in the background was a woman’s even voice.  “And Jazz, being the future psychologist that she is, picked the most sex-obsessed man in history.”

The camera flipped to show a young red-head sitting across an older man with a white beard in a blue three piece suit.  In the background was a younger man, his blue eyes glazed over as he sat there sipping from his mug, his head of black hair bobbing as he fought to stay awake.  Really, it wouldn’t gather a second glance, except for the tiny detail that the older man’s skin was as green as a sunburnt person’s was red.

“-indeed homosexuality is not an illness, and in fact the only link between it and mental health has been observed to be caused by familial and community reactions.”

“That is good to hear.  Indeed, many people throughout history were homosexual, and a lot of them did not show any other signs of mental illnesses.”

“It is.  However, with the recent pushes for public acceptance of those not heterosexual, many have come forward with sexual orientations beyond just hetero and homosexuality, including those that are attracted to both men and women at the same time, as well as those who experience no sexual attraction or are completely repulsed by the idea of anything sexual.”

The camera flipped back to the first man.  “She is explaining how psychology has developed in the last 100 years without trying to rip apart Freud’s work.

“This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened.  Occasionally, we’d get guest speakers that would turn out to be some famous author or pioneer in their field.  It’s how our English teacher got his copy of the Tempest signed by the original author.  I think this might be the first one that won’t end in a raid by government idiots in white, though.

“So yeah, we occasionally get to talk to dead celebrities and don’t bat an eye at it.  Amity Park is very weird.”

***

“Danny!  You left your cups in the sink again!”

“How can you tell it’s mine?”

“They’re glowing green and you’re the only one that drinks ectoplasm!  Now take care of them before you bring the food to life again!”

“Fine…”

The camera pans over to a goth woman giving the camera a flat look.  On screen, there’s some text that reads: ‘When your boyfriend forgets to clean off his dishes after his mildly radioactive smoothies.’

***

“Urgh!” Just die you stupid, lazy skeleton!”

“How long is this attack going to be!”

“I don’t care, because when it’s finally my turn, I am going to stab the dust out of this depressed sack of bones!”

On screen was a couch, and on that couch sat 3 young adults, two women and one man.  One of the women was Valarie Gray, US National Taekwondo Silver Medalist, was jabbing her thumb down on the d-pad of her controller, lips pulled back in a snarl.  The other was Samantha Manson, more known for the TikTok channel Our Strange Lives.  The man was a muscular blond.  All three were focusing on the screen, their eyes emitting faint light and Valarie’s teeth seemed to be getting sharper.

Quietly a blond woman walked on screen, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  The woman was Star Strong from Fashionable History.

“You guys are still streaming?”

“This boss is stupid difficult and Manson and Gray are the only ones willing to play.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Fowley, Wes, Singh all had work.  Fenton got to the first boss and then lost it because ‘Goat Mom just wanted to protect us’ before getting a call from his lil sis asking for help.  Kwan is working on a lab with a guy from his chem class, and Kyle passed out a couple hours ago.”

“Stop dodging!”

“Wanna play?”

“Can’t.  Going to the library to study for a calc exam I have coming up.  See you guys later.”

“Later.”

“FUC-”

***

“And so, with this polaroid image, we have evidence to prove that-”

“Hey, Wes, do you have something I can use for a collage?  Oh sweet, thanks bro!”

“What?  No!  Kyle!  Get back with that! That was the proof I was going to use to prove the existence of Yetis!”

“Oh damn.  This is some nice creature work!  Danny, your friend has an incredible costume, man!”

“Thanks, Kyle!  I’ll pass it on!”

***

Tim paused the video right as Wesley Weston stood to chase his older brother.

There.

The red-head’s eyes had a slight glow to them.  Tim clicked over to the other images he had gathered of the Amity Park teens, all with their eyes glowing or other signs of something inhuman.

Tim had been introduced to this group by Stephanie when she found a martial arts demonstration Gray did that involved breaking multiple boards, all several feet above her head.  Stephanie had meant it as a ‘check out his cool person doing what we’re doing,’ but Tim noticed something.  All the boards were being held by seemingly the same person- or at least people dressed very similarly.  And not in a way where they’re sitting on a ledge above Gray and are switching out the board each time she broke one.  More that there were multiple companies of the same white glove all holding a board and all floating several feet above where they should have been.  That was already a little weird, but it could’ve been some special effects or just a uniform.

No, what caught Tim’s attention was the quick glimpse of the face of one of the board holders.  It was youthful- late teens- but with paper white hair that showed no signs of bleaching.  Now these features would have been a thing to cement the mysterious person in Tim’s mind.  But it wasn’t that.

No, what got Tim to do some digging to find out about a previously unknown supposed hero from a small town that has been blacked-out by the US government, was his eyes.

His calm, glowing Lazarus green eyes.

***

So we finally get a taste for the shenanigans our liminals are up to. Sam, Tucker, and Danny all share a TikTok where they show off how weird the other two are and how weird their town is. Wes is trying to prove cryptids exist, which Kyle ruins. Dash has a gaming stream that most often Kwan joins in on, and Paulina and Star do dress history. Oh, and Valarie is a national taekwondo because karate has only been an event for one Olympic games, but taekwondo has been an event since 2000 and Val seems more like a kicker than a thrower. Plus, I actually took taekwondo when I was younger.

We do get another Bat showing up at the end. There is absolutely no plot, however, so who knows where this is going. Certainly not me!

I'm still looking for names (please, I need them). As for majors:

Jazz-Psych (obviously)

Kyle- Liberal Arts (I wanna put him in accounting, but Liberal Arts works for now)

Tuck- Comp Sci

Danny- Poly Sci, minor in Astronomy

Sam- Double Poly Sci and Environmental Science

Val- Criminal Justice

Dash- Undecided (both me and him)

Kwan- Pre-Med for now, though he wants to do Child Development/Education

Paulina- Fashion Marketing

Star- Sports Science

Mikey- Music

Wes- Journalism

[na0koz]

haikyuu boys meeting your family !

atsumu, kageyama, suna,

pre timeskip, female pronouns

atsumu is so scared. like he’s terrified. he’s convinced himself your parents won’t like him and they’re gonna force you to stop seeing him, but he won’t tell you that.

the plan was to go on your date in the city and then come home for dinner with your family; it can’t be that bad, right? wrong apparently. the whole journey home atsumu is pretty quiet, he’s trying to decide how to act while he fiddles with the wrapping of the bouquet that he insisted he buy for your mom. every time you ask if he’s okay, he just smiles at you and tells you he’s tired from walking around so much. once you guys get to your house atsumu’s gotten over the shaky nerves and he’s now onto the cocky, overconfident nerves, which is pretty close to his personality anyways. the whole time he’s complimenting your mom’s cooking, playing with your younger sibling and he was even humble about volleyball. you smile into your food when he says “ahh i’m not sure if i’m the best setter ‘round here” knowing full well that’s what he usually calls himself. he makes sure to thank your parents a lot.

after he goes home your parents tell you how nice he seems and how you did well. after you shut the door while he smiles and waves he lets out a huge breath, one he’s been holding all day. “they liked me,” he muttered to himself as he zips up his jacket and takes himself home.

kageyama is oddly relaxed. he declines hanging out with the team since he’s going to your house to properly meet your parents, which he says almost dismissively. a few minutes later he’s asking what the big deal is and how it’s “just meeting her parents?”; noya and tanaka and practically yelling in his face “dude. she’s like, totally in love with you if you get to meet her parents.”

he only realises how big of a deal it is when he notices how sweaty his palms are as he raises his hand to knock on your front door. he chews his lip while he waits for you and can suddenly only focus on your parents liking him. he’s snapped out of his thoughts when you open the door and pull him into a hug before you lead him into the lounge area to say hi. kageyama doesn’t really know how to talk about himself, you know that so you help him along by asking him questions like “don’t you have a game next week?” and prompting him to talk about the details. he’s also not very good at eye contact or even looking at people when he’s talking to them but at least he’s talking. while he’s helping you clean up he nervously asks if he did good so you take his hands and make sure to tell him just how well he did.

after he goes home your mom says “he’s cute” while you exclaim and punch her shoulder. he opens his phone and sees a bunch of texts on the team group chat asking how it went. he decides to tell his sister how it went before his friends.

suna is calm. he tells himself he’ll try not to be an asshole because who would want their daughter dating a sarcastic, snarky guy? he obviously loves you, but if your parents don’t like him then who is he to go against their wishes and keep seeing you? if they want him to leave you alone, he will.

he’s discreetly asking you stuff that will affect how he acts during the week before he’s scheduled to have dinner with you and your family. suna asking you which shirt you like better was new, so you were a little suspicious but you decided to ignore it. he did slip a couple times, he swore once and told a story with the details that parents don’t need to know left in, but he saved it well enough by saying he wasn’t part of it and it’s just something he heard from a classmate.

your mom seemed a liiitle apprehensive about suna but you did your best to tell her he was just nervous and he’s not a bad guy. he texted you later in the evening asking if he had fucked up, you told him he didn’t and how you heard your parents saying he seemed like he really cared about you. that lifted a little weight off his shoulder.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley realizes there's some good news and some bad news. The good news is he's deeply in love with his wife who likes to be adventurous in the bedroom. And the bad news from the mechanic? He'd actually rather not mention that to you.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, anal play, anal sex, fluff, mentions of mission details

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

"Bradley! What did you do?!"

Your shitty little car's center console was loose, propped up by Bradley's booted foot like it was on a hinge. If he moved his foot up, the whole thing went with it. "I didn't do anything," he replied, removing his foot and letting the large piece of your car interior settle back down like he was completely innocent here. 

You reached up from his lap and moved the console with your hands, and you gasped at the result. "You destroyed it!" Then you lifted it up higher and turned back to him with flashing eyes. "I can see the ground through the gigantic hole in my car!"

He winced. If you were upset when your car ended up in the shop last year while he was using it, you'd almost certainly be even more pissed off because of this. "I'll take it to my mechanic on Monday. He fixed it for you last time."

You nodded with some uncertainty, but you wrapped him up in your arms and kissed him. "Yeah... he fixed it last time. I'm just happy you're home. I made Marry Me Rooster and birthday cake for you." Bradley was practically panting at the feel of your fingers pushing back through his hair again. "And we can relax all day tomorrow." 

For the first time in a week, he felt calm and sated. The adrenaline rush had finally worn off a bit, and right now he was exhausted. It was nearly midnight. His birthday was almost over. But if you wanted him to eat dinner and have cake with you at one in the morning, he would. 

"Let's go home," he whispered. With one more kiss, you opened the back door and climbed off of his lap. When Bradley went to follow suit, he hit his head on the door frame and nearly landed on his face. "Fuck," he grunted, rubbing the top of his head. Great. Your car was poised and ready for revenge. He was going to offer to drive just in case there was something truly wrong with the thing, but he was a little afraid. He asked anyway. "You want me to drive?"

You just gave him a look. "I think you've done enough, Roo. And even though I love you, my car does not."

"That's fair." He kissed your forehead and yawned as he walked around to the passenger side. The engine started up for you without any issue, but it took you and him both pulling on the shifter to get it into reverse. And then your car made a horrible loud noise as you backed out of the parking spot. 

Bradley had a very bad feeling about this.

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

It took you twice as long to get home as it should have. Your car sounded like it was begging for mercy every time you so much as tapped the gas pedal. It was a strage, loud whirring sound, and Bradley was looking at you with big, innocent baby cow eyes. 

There was a gap between the center console and the floor of your car, and you wondered how on earth he managed to push on it hard enough to rip it clean off like that. It was almost comical. You husband was huge, and he'd apparently put all of his size into fucking you just right. 

You laughed as you pulled into the driveway next to the Bronco. "So you're not too mad?" he asked quietly as he helped you push the shifter again.

"I'm not mad," you promised. "Your mechanic can fix it next week. We'll just need to share the one car until then."

Bradley leaned in to kiss you and said, "I will take care of it, Sweetheart." 

Once you made it to the front door, his lips were all over your neck as you tried to unlock it. He was being sweet and soft now even though you were sure he could tell you were flustered with need again. Even the rough fabric of his duffel rubbing against your leg was almost too much. "I love you," he murmured against your earlobe as you finally pushed the door open. But you could tell he was tired, and you weren't the only one who was excited to see him. 

Tramp came bounding out onto the porch, whimpering and whining as Bradley knelt and got his face licked. "Yeah, I missed you, too," he told the dog as he carried him inside. "Did you have fun with mommy?" Tramp kept running to his leash and begging, but Bradley said, "I'm not taking you for a walk in the middle of the night. We can go tomorrow."

"Are you hungry?" you asked, feeling a little silly for getting yourself so excited to feed your husband when it was so late. But you made a huge batch of Marry Me Rooster, and of course he insisted he wanted his birthday meal. 

"I'm always hungry for this and for you," he said, pulling you onto his lap at the dining room table. He took a bite of chicken and grunted softly, and you leaned in to kiss along his cheekbone as he chewed. He had dark circles under his eyes, and you knew he was going to need to rest tomorrow.

"You want to tell me about your super secret special mission?" you asked him while he ate. He took a few more bites and set his fork down with a sigh before he answered. 

His voice was careful as he said, "I really can't say much, even to you."

Your eyebrows shot up and your hands shook a little as you played with his hair. "Was it successful?"

"Yes," he replied immediately, which took the chill out of your body. "We had to... aid in hostage retrieval."

"Oh my god," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his chest and snuggling against him. You knew better than to ask for any more details than that. If the stakes were that high, no wonder he came back a bit of a needy mess. You could just imagine him on the aircraft carrier after completing his flight, adrenaline thrumming through his body. You rubbed your hand along his side as he finished the rest of the food on his plate.

"Thanks for my birthday dinner."

You smiled at him. "I'm just happy you're home. Do you want to save the cake and your present for tomorrow?"

"Please." His voice was soft, and his eyes closed against the feel of your fingers. You led him to the bedroom, taking the time to dig his toothbrush out of his duffle so he could get ready for bed. His new notebook was in there as well, and you flipped through it to see that he'd filled about a third of it up with his writing. But you could save that for later. 

You pulled your dress over your head and tossed it in the hamper as Bradley walked back into the bedroom from the bathroom. "Ready for bed?" you asked, standing there completely naked. He just examined every inch of you, his eyes taking you in. It never really occurred to you to be self conscious around him, and when he brought his hand up to rub his cock through his boxer briefs, your lips parted on a soft sound. 

He slowly raised his left hand which was hanging at his side, and as soon as he pointed at the bed, you were in it. Bradley stepped out of his underwear and left them in the middle of the floor, his hand wrapped around his cock as he climbed right on top of you. "Yeah?" he rasped with a grin. You supposed even through his exhaustion, he still had a little left in the tank for you, and you couldn't help but smile up at him. 

"Yes." You spread your legs wide, and he buried himself inside you, uncaring that he'd filled you up barely two hours ago and left you a mess. He was doing it again, and he was doing it oh so well.  

"Missed you," he whispered, the snap of his hips making you moan. "Missed our bed and your body and your pretty face." You watched as he took his silicone ring off and tossed it aside while he fucked you. Then his lips dipped down to your breasts before they found his wedding band where it rested against the front of your neck on your chain. 

He fucked you until he came, kissing and licking the ring, bucking his cum deeper inside you with his eyes closed. You rolled him onto his back and sat up with him still buried deep. He was all soft smiles and comically boneless limbs beneath you as he stroked your thighs. "Can I have my ring?"

You reached for the clasp of your chain and slid it past your pretty charms. Then you secured your necklace once more before reaching for his left hand. You slipped it on his finger and kissed him there as he caressed your cheek. But his eyes were already closed, and he was sound asleep by the time you went to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

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

When Bradley opened his eyes, his stomach was growling so loudly, he thought that might have been what woke him up. He was so damn comfortable, finally back in his own bedroom. "Baby Girl?" he rasped, wanting to just go back to sleep, but needing you with him. 

Then he noticed the absolutely delicious smell coming from the kitchen and groaned. His stomach was growling so much, it hurt as he climbed out of bed and stretched. He found you a moment later cooking pancakes and bacon while sipping some coffee in his old UVA shirt. Tramp was on the floor begging his little heart out. When you saw Bradley you smiled, and he wrapped himself around you from behind, enveloping you in his arms. He could tell you were still fresh from your shower, and Bradley couldn't get enough.

"Are you hungry?" you whispered as he kissed along your neck. 

"Starving," he replied, stomach growling loudly. "And I missed you in bed."

You rubbed yourself back gently against his naked body as you said, "You can rest and eat all day today. We've got nothing planned. I thought I'd feed you breakfast and let you take a long shower and then a nap."

He sighed next to your ear, feeling completely relaxed. This was all he really needed right now. You and he had worked on every little detail of your marriage until you were on the same page about what was important. The successful completion of Operation Loophole had him feeling pretty good about going back to base tomorrow. But today, the only thing he wanted was you. 

You sat perched on his thigh as you finished your coffee while he ate. "What did I miss here while I was gone?"

"Just Jake almost fucking things up completely," you replied, biting into a piece of toast. "Oh, and I'm trying to get Bob to move in with Maria."

"The fuck?" he asked with a laugh. "As in, Bob would move into your old bedroom?"

"Yep."

"Sweetheart. Your old bedroom? We did some fucking  nasty stuff in there together."

You erupted into laughter. "He doesn't need to know that."

Bradley looked at you like you had two heads. "I'm sure he already does."

"Poor Bob." You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Do you want some birthday cake for dessert?"

"I get dessert after breakfast?" he asked, somehow perking up even more over this perfect homecoming.

"You get whatever you want for your thirty seventh birthday," you replied as you stood and headed for the kitchen, letting Bradley see a peek of your gorgeous ass beneath his shirt. And in that instant, it was the only thing he wanted. He groaned and let his head tip back. 

"Fuck." His heart was beating a little faster as he thought about tasting you there, touching you and fucking you there. You'd let him put his mouth anywhere he wanted last year on his birthday, and during your honeymoon, he'd enjoyed that particular part of your body again. But his cock was twitching, and now he was kind of mad you'd just proverbially offered up anything his horny heart desired. Because he was going to have to ask you for it. 

There was no way you didn't notice he was half hard when you walked back in holding a confetti cake with your other hand behind your back. "Oh. My favorite. Thanks." His voice was bland as you set it down in front of him before pulling a lemon cake from behind your back. 

"I was just messing with you with the confetti cake," you said with a laugh, bouncing back into the kitchen again. This time Bradley landed a little smack on your ass that left you giggling and looking at him over your shoulder in surprise. "I said the confetti cake was a joke, Roo," you told him with a wink.

This time when you came back, you had one single birthday candle and a lighter along with two forks. As you stuck the candle in the lemon cake and lit it, he asked, "Are you going to sing to me?"

"Of course," you whispered, kissing his cheek before settling on his thigh, your hip grazing his cock. Then you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck, licking and kissing along his scars as you sang to him like you were Marilyn Monroe and he was JFK. You were giggling and enjoying yourself, and it shouldn't have been as hot as it was, but Bradley hoisted you up to straddle both of his legs as you finished singing.

You gave him a little squeak as you settled against his cock, and he got his mouth on yours right away. He ran his hand up under your shirt to where your Rooster tattoo was and caressed you there, but he was cupping your ass with his other hand. "Roo," you moaned into his mouth as he teased both of your holes. "You're still all keyed up, Daddy?"

"A little," he told you, surprised to find that he was again. He blew out his birthday candle which had burned almost all the way down, while he kept his fingers on you. 

"You want your cake or your present?" you asked softly. 

"Aren't you my present?" 

You smirked. "I got you something else, too."

"I want it."

When you climbed off his lap, Bradley reached for you, but you were already walking toward the bedroom. "Take a shower, Roo. I'll get it ready for you."

So Bradley stood under the stream of water, first cold and then hot. He was afraid to touch himself too much, because he really needed you. And his curiosity was piqued. What did you get for him? And why did you need to get it ready? 

Oh. He had asked you for another calendar. Another sexy pinup calendar featuring you, you and you. "Shit," he grunted, running his hands through his hair to make sure all the conditioner was out before turning off the water. He barely dried himself off before charging back into the bedroom. He was about to call for you when you popped up behind him and put your hands over his eyes. 

"Close them," you commanded. "And no peeking."  

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, going slightly crazy at your touch. You let go of his face, and he kept his eyes closed as you guided him by his shoulders until he was pretty sure he was standing in the bedroom doorway looking out into the hallway. Then you placed something in his hands.

He heard you cackle as you let go of him and said, "Okay, you can open your eyes and unwrap your gift, but don't turn around. 

Bradley had the pretty red and yellow wrapping paper off in a flash, and it fell near his feet as he moaned. He read the cover out loud. "The Bronco and Baby Girl." Oh fuck. He'd never make it through this thing. 

"Okay, now open it to January," you called out from behind him. He did, and it was a photo of you laying on the hood of the Bronco in the red bikini from the honeymoon. "Do you like it?"

"I fucking love it," he promised, his eyes roaming the high quality photograph. You looked like a real model, there was no doubt about that. "It's stunning."

You laughed and said, "Now look at February." He flipped the page and moaned at the sight of you sitting in the driver's seat wearing your skimpy red lingerie. "Now tell me which month you like better."

He flipped back and forth between the two before ultimately saying, "February. And it's a fucking shame it doesn't have thirty one days, honestly."

Your laughter filled the room and made him smile as he looked at March. You were wearing his aviators and little else. "You still like February?"

"Shit. I might like March the best now."

"How about April?" you asked, and Bradley was having a lot of fun with this game. 

"Oh, that's nice," he remarked at the photo of you bent over his tailgate. He was currently having an existential crisis over your ass, and this wasn't helping. 

"Why don't you keep going until you get to your favorite one, and then you can turn around."

"Alright," Bradley said, clearing his throat as he turned to May, which was one of you wearing the little dress you had on when you picked him up last night. You were laying on the backseat, and your tits looked like they were going to come free from the fabric. 

But when he turned to June, you were topless. You were sitting in the back on the tailgate with your hands tucked behind your head wearing nothing but the shortest denim cutoffs he'd ever seen. You were facing the side with your upper body turned toward the camera. Your back was arched, your tits were jutting out, and your nipples were hard. The photo also somehow captured the perfect shape of your ass, and it was quite possibly the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. 

"June," he announced. "It's June, Baby Girl. It's my favorite one." And when he turned around, you were on the bed posed exactly like you were in the calendar, but you were smirking. Because you knew him. You knew he'd stop on June. You knew he'd fucking short circuit over that particular one. And now it was right in front of him in real life. 

He tossed his calendar carefully onto the dresser as he inched forward, looking at you in those denim shorts at every angle as you bit your lip. "I knew you'd pick June," you whispered, and he leaned in to kiss your shoulder. Then he ran his palm down along your spine until his hand was on your ass. 

"You know me so well," he rasped, climbing onto the bed with you. "Thanks for my calendar." He licked your right nipple before pulling your left one between his lips and sucking gently. You whined his name, and your hands were immediately in his hair. 

"You're welcome," you gasped your hips rolling as he cupped your pussy gently through your shorts. He worked the button open and unzipped them as he kissed his way up to your neck, and you asked him, "Any special requests, birthday boy?"

But you knew. Somehow you fucking knew. You got on your hands and knees facing the headboard and wiggled your ass at him until he pulled your shorts down and helped you out of them. And then that was it. You were bare for him. He ran his hands up your soft thighs and up along your butt. He kissed you all over before he got on his knees and leaned his body over yours until his lips were right next to your ear.

"I do have a request."

He felt you shiver as he bucked involuntarily against your core. "Tell me." 

You turned your head to look at him. His voice was a harsh whisper. "I want your ass, Baby Girl."

You moaned and rolled your hips back against him, nearly sending him through the roof. "What do you want to do?"

He kissed your cheek and tried to take a deep breath. "I want to do anything that you want to do. And if you don't want to do anything, then that's fine, too." He was panting as he kissed along your shoulder and your back, unable to stop himself from pressing against you over and over.

"Do you want to fuck me in the ass, Roo?" you asked so sweetly, he thought he was going to black out. "Because if so, you need to get the lube from the nightstand. And you need to go very slow. And you need to stop if I tell you it hurts."

"Holy fucking hell," he groaned, wrapping his arms around you and caressing your tits and your belly. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

He practically fell off the bed in his excitement. Other than using your toys, you and he had never done this together or separately, but he was ready to go. You didn't even look hesitant as you folded your arms on the pillow and let your head come to rest as you spread your legs a little wider. "It's like your birthday tradition now," you said with a little laugh as he dug around for the lube. 

"Wonder what you'll let me have next year," he asked, kissing your lips before climbing back on the bed with the small tube. He needed to calm down, so he angled himself to get at your pussy with his mouth from behind. Within seconds, he had you gasping for him, and his mustache was soaking wet. He licked you up and down, swirling his tongue around one hole before slowly dragging it to the other. Your hips were held firmly in his hands as you rolled back against him for more pressure, crying out when you let you have it only on his terms. 

"Bradley!" you whined. 

"Shh," he whispered, licking along your pussy with a grin. "On your birthday, you can have whatever you want."

You were going to be tight. Even as he painted you up with your own wetness, and worked the tip of his thumb into your asshole, watching the stretch with fascination as you groaned his name, he could tell. He grunted as he flipped open the lube and coated his cock with it, never taking his lips off you.

"I'm so close," you moaned, pressing yourself back against his mouth as he played with your clit. And when you eventually came for him, he brought his slick hand up and worked his thumb a little deeper this time. 

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, kissing your lower back and pausing. 

"No. Keep going."

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

It took Bradley a while even though you were relaxed from your orgasm. It didn't hurt, but you needed him to go slow so you could be sure of this new sensation. First his thumb. Then his cock. 

"Oh my god," you whined, your eyes squeezed shut at just how full you were. You could feel the cool drizzle of lube hitting your body before your husband's hands returned to your hips in the gentlest caress. The stretch was almost too much as he moaned and whispered your name behind you over and over again. "Go slow," you reminded him when his thrusts started coming faster, and he took care of everything you needed.

Bradley's words were becoming unintelligible. He said something about his birthday before he told you he loved you. The soft glide from the extra lubrication was aided as you flattened your back out, and then Bradley gasped, "It feels so good. Too fucking good."

When he pushed a little deeper, you grunted, ready to tell him that was far enough. But you didn't need to worry. You could feel him slowly easing back out of you until that foreign feeling of being filled to the brim eased up and then vanished. Bradley yanked your body up so you were standing on your knees in front of him. His sweaty forehead came to rest on your shoulder as he panted and vigorously jerked off, his hand working along his cock between your body and his. 

"Sweetheart," he moaned as he coated up your back and butt with his cum. "Fuck. Fuck!" He felt him run his hand through the sticky mess before he wrapped his big arms around to the front of you.

"Did you like that?"

He took a few deep breaths before his lips and mustache were tickling your ear. "I love everything we do together. I love you."

You felt warm all over from his words and his body, and he held you tight for a long time just like that as he caught his breath. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, slipping off the bed and pulling you carefully with him. You didn't feel sore, exactly. You were just more aware of everything as you moved slowly. 

"No," you promised, shaking your head at him. He helped you pull on his UVA shirt before he carried you back to the kitchen. "I'm just a little tired. You wear me out more than my toys do."

He laughed as he set you down and took the leftover Marry Me Rooster out of the refrigerator. "I feel like your butt is for special occasions?"

Now you were laughing. "Like your birthday?" 

"Yeah. Like my birthday. Now let's eat together and have my cake and take a bath. Then maybe you can replicate the rest of the calendar photo poses for me to see in person?"

"Oh. You really liked that."

"I really liked that."

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

Bradley held you against his chest in the bathtub. It was late now, and the bathroom was lit by one single candle in the darkness as he sang to you. He was relaxed, soothed by the feel of your hand on his thigh, and when you turned and smiled up at him, he kissed you. 

"Don't forget, my parents are coming in a few days."

He'd already forgotten. The special mission and then coming home to you had clouded his brain and made him a little shortsighted, but not in a bad way. He loved your parents. "Right," he said with a nod. "Sounds good."

"And we'll have to leave earlier tomorrow morning so you can follow me to the mechanic."

He'd forgotten about that, too. Fuck. Your car was your favorite possession. Bradley truly did not understand the appeal, but you'd had the stupid thing forever. "Sure," he grunted, already nervous again. You nuzzled his cheek and then stood in front of him, and he leaned in to kiss along your ass while you giggled. 

Today had been perfect. Last night, too. Other than breaking your car, Bradley was just happy to be home. It didn't really matter to him that you'd given him a little birthday celebration and agreed to try something new in bed, being with you was the most important thing. You and he had spent a lot of time apart over the past year and a half, and he was hoping that the successful mission might help shape the trajectory of his career to make things a little easier in that regard. Especially if you did get pregnant on your own, or if a conversation about alternative options took place in the future.

Bradley eventually fell asleep with you draped across his chest. He read to you from his new notebook, but he skipped the pages about his dream where you were pregnant. It felt like too much for tonight. He turned the light off, and your hand found his tattoo like it was a magnet for you. Even though he was exhausted, his mind was swirling as he tried to fall asleep. 

Monday morning was a rush to get out of the house on time, and when you started your little piece of shit car on the driveway, it made such a distressing sound, Bradley almost insisted you get it towed instead. But you backed it out onto the road, and he followed you to his mechanic. 

"I'm scared," you told him when you dropped the keys off at the front desk. "It sounds really sick this time." He had to kiss away the crease along your brow.

"Let's just play it by ear," he told you, taking your hand and leading you back to the Bronco. He patted your ass in your uniform pants as you climbed in, and he buckled your seatbelt. "How are you feeling today anyway?" he asked with a smirk that you kissed off his face. 

"If you're referring to my butt, I'm a little sore," you told him, running your fingers along his scars. "But I'll be interested in the next special occasion." He climbed in with you and gave you sloppy kisses as you laughed. "Roo! We'll be late for work. I have a meeting with Bickel at nine."

"Aww, you can be late. Just tell him we were talking about your ass."

"Bradley," you snorted. "I will not."

He kissed you one more time before climbing off of you and closing the door. The drive to base was short, and you held his hand the whole way. He had to keep turning the radio volume up as you sang along badly, but you just kept getting louder with it. 

"You're a nightmare," he informed you when he parked and killed the engine. "And god, I fucking love you so much." The way you kissed him made him want to put the key back in the ignition and drive you home to bed. Your hand was just about on his cock in his khakis when you pulled away. 

"Gotta run!" He watched you stroll off toward the side entrance, waving at him coyly over your shoulder as he adjusted himself and headed for the locker room. 

Bradley's day was going great. He was happy to see Nat, and he was looking forward to having lunch with you if you could get away from your lab. But when he checked his phone around noon as he walked to the cafeteria, he had a new voicemail from the mechanic. He could see you in line for your burrito bowl as you chatted with Bob. He could practically hear you laughing as he played the message and cringed.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, give me a call back. The car is totaled."

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

Oop. I can see the tears flowing already. Fix this, Bradley. Parents are visiting soon. So many things are happening soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 24

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[beggingforxavier]

Your Good Boy

This is an alt! Follow my main blog: @beggingforxavierthorpe

About: After a friend sends you a picture of Xavier and another girl, jealousy fuels you. He'll know who he belongs to after tonight.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: P in V, no condom, dirty talk, oral (f recieving), masturbation (m), edging, overstimulation, use of toys, crying, super!sub!Xavier.

It had been two hours since Yoko had texted you a picture of Bianca and Xavier from a Nightshades gathering. Her hand was resting on his right thigh, him laughing at something she said, eyes closed. Ever since you saw it, it made your blood boil. Was this why he didn’t want you joining the Nightshades?

You’ve been ignoring his texts, him probably drunk and needy from Yoko’s mixed drinks. The buzzing wouldn’t seem to stop, but it eventually dies down.

“Well, he can just go see Bianca.” You grumble to yourself, shutting your eyes tightly to try to will sleep to take over. Even though it was late, you couldn’t sleep, all you were doing was tossing and turning in your bed. With a frustrated sigh, you sit up and run a hand through your hair. “Fuck it.”

Fueled with jealousy and rage, you sneak out your window, scaling balconies until you land at your boyfriend’s.

You’re about to knock on the glass pane when you see movement inside. You rub your hand against the dusty glass to try to get a better look. Xavier is sitting in his desk chair, hand wrapped around his cock, pumping desperately. His sketchbook is open on the desk, and his other hand is held above it, making the image move. Squinting your eyes, you realize that it’s a drawing of you riding his cock roughly, your hips slamming together, your mouth open and chest heaving. How he got so much detail into that one drawing surprises you, and the fact that he’s jacking off to you melts the edges of your heart. But as soon as you remember why you’re there in the first place, your jaw sets and you pound on the glass.

Xavier jumps from where he’s sitting, cursing, and tucking himself into his pants. He turns around and tucks himself into his waistband, and then shuts his sketchbook before coming to the glass.

“Babe?” He asks, confusion marring his features, his brows coming together. “What’re you doing here?”

Regardless, he backs up so you can climb inside, and you do.

“Did you have a nice night?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Uh, yeah. I tried texting you.” A small blush rises to his cheeks, and he rubs the back of his neck. “It was just a small party….I-did you see me just now?”

“Of course I saw you jacking off.” You set your jaw again and Xavier takes in your features, becoming even more puzzled. “You’re bad.”

“Why are you angry? Your body language is so off.” He shakes his head, reaching his arms out towards you, still a little tipsy and needy.

“Get on the bed. Now.” You order, kicking off your shoes.

Xavier doesn’t move at first, concern flooding his brain, but eventually he sits on the edge of the bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“How dare you fucking let her touch you like that.” You spit, cheeks flaming. Xavier cocks his head to the side, his eyes widening.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you not want me in the Nightshades because you want to fuck around behind my back?” You counter, arms crossing.

“What the fuck? No! I don’t want you to join the Nightshades because they can be a bunch of assholes sometimes. We do dumb stuff and you’re too good for us.”

“And apparently you’re the biggest asshole of them all.” Xavier’s eyes widen at your hurtful words. You drag your phone out of your pocket, opening the picture and dropping it in his lap. “If her hand was any higher, she’d be touching your dick.”

“Baby-“

“Strip.”

“What?”

“God, I said fucking strip, Xavier. And don’t you dare touch yourself.”

Gazing up at you in a mix of fear and excitement, he obliges, pulling his shirt over his head and tugging his sweatpants down, leaving him bare against his comforter.

Your eyes harden as you look down at your boyfriend, pushing down your hurt feelings until all you feel is a need to make him pay. You walk over to his bedside table and open the drawer, pulling out his vibrating cock ring. You toss it at his chest.

“Put it on. On high.” You tell him, starting to tug your shirt up and over your head.

You kick off your leggings and then pick them up off the floor, watching him slide the ring down to the base of his cock and he presses the button three times, turning it to its highest setting. He groans immediately, his hips pushing up into the air as the vibrations are overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK.” Xavier whimpers, the vibrations making his toes curl. “Baby, please.”

“No. You don’t have control over this.” You put your leggings on the end of the bed and climb up, straddling his thighs, sitting back on his firm legs. “You want to let other girls touch you? Then come home and jerk off to the thought of me? For that, you get punished. You can’t cum without my permission. Do you understand?”

Xavier nods wordlessly and brings his hands down to grip your hips, his eyes wide. You grab them and remove them immediately, pinning them above his head. His cock is hard still, his tip red and leaking. His chest is flushed, his stomach sucking in at the vibrations shooting up his length.

“Are you going to be able to be a good boy and not touch me?” You ask him, and Xavier groans, enjoying having you so close to him. He struggles against your hold a little, and you sigh. “That’s a no.”

“No, I’ll be good.” He says quickly, but you’re already moving to grab your discarded leggings.

He watches you as you wrap the material around his wrists and tie them tightly to the iron headboard. Xavier whines and struggles against the hold, just tightening them on his wrists.

“You couldn’t be good. Not a surprise.” You spit into your hand and bring it down to his cock.

“I’m your good boy.” He whimpers, eyes bulging as you collect his precum and start to stroke him quickly. “Holy shit!”

“Prove it.” You almost growl, your hand eager against his cock, stroking him without mercy. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-You, I belong to you. I’m your good boy.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.” His hips stutter, pushing up against your hand. “Please, please, wanna cum for you.”

Your hand is relentless on him, and he’s squirming, the vibrations and the pull of your hand too much. His chest is deep red now, and he has a look of desperation on his face.

“I-I….can I cum?” He whimpers, thrusting up into your hand. “Please, baby.”

You continue wordlessly, and he drags in a deep breath, trying desperately to hold it. You watch him carefully, and when you think it’s about to become too much, you pull off your hand and press the button to turn off the vibrations of the cock ring. Xavier lifts his butt off the bed, chasing your hand, frustration clear on his face as his impending orgasm dies instantly.

“Oh, my poor baby.” You climb up to straddle his stomach now, leaving his cock, weeping and solid. Reaching forward you grip his chin. “Open.”

Xavier opens his mouth, and you spit, letting a glob slowly slide past your lips down into his mouth.

“You want to cum, don’t you? Do you think you deserve to cum?” You ask, your voice softer now, stroking the side of his face.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t realize, I pushed her away...” He looks up at you, feeling small and shy. “I only want you.”

Satisfied with his answer, you lean over to his bedside drawer again and pull out the wand he bought you on a whim the year prior. The one you were too afraid to keep in your shared bedroom and forced him to keep here where no one will ever find it.

You slide down his body once more, leaving a little wetness in the center of his stomach, turned on by seeing him helpless beneath you. Settling between his legs now, your hand moves down, turning on the vibrating cock ring again, and he grunts. Xavier’s toes curl again, and he throws his head back, his eyes closing. Though, when you turn on the wand and press it right underneath his tip, his head shoots back forward, a moan ripping from his throat.

“Holy shit!” He cries, and you continue to hold it there. “T-Too strong.”

“You can take it. I know you can. Be my good boy.” You coo, running your hand up and down his sucked-in stomach and down his thighs, just caressing him.

Xavier curses, bucking a little against the jolts of oversensitivity that run through him, but you just hold the wand there firmer. It doesn’t take much before he’s a begging mess beneath you.

“Gonna cum…can I? Please, oh my fucking God, I can’t hold it-“ He wails beneath you, louder than he normally is.

“Cum, Xavier.” You answer quickly, and he does.

Ropes of hot cum land on his lower stomach, and some on your hand as well, sliding down the sides of his shaft. The groans leaving his throat are filthy, and when your hand comes down on his thigh roughly, the slap echoes against the lofty ceilings.

But you don’t remove the wand, and soon Xavier’s sobbing, pulling desperately against his binds, the vibrations too much for him. Tears roll down his cheeks, staining his pale skin.

“Ah-baby, stop. I can’t-“

“Do you need your safe word?” You ask calmly, and he shakes his head indignantly. “Does it feel good?”

“Hurts…fuck, don’t stop.” Xavier pushes past the tears, his mouth falling open, pain mingling with pleasure at some moments, and he tries desperately to keep his hips against the mattress.

“Can you give me one more, baby?” Your words are soft and soothing, reaching up to rub under his eye and collect his tears.

You bring your thumb down to suck on the salty tears, moaning softly. Xavier’s eyes are still brimming, but he watches you. His cock keeps twitching now, and he starts to splutter as he gets closer. A sheen of sweat dons his skin, and you think he almost looks angelic.

“C-Can I?” He manages, and you bite your lip to hold back a self-satisfied smirk.

“Mhm. Go ahead, baby.” You tell him.

It only takes another minute before his cock is dribbling again, a sad, low flow down the sides of his cock and pooling at the base.

You immediately turn off the vibrations on both toys, pulling him carefully out of the cock ring and tossing them to the side.

“You were so good for me. I’m so proud of you. ‘M gonna take care of you now. You want my pussy?” You question, and he nods as you reach up to untie his hands.

When they’re finally free, Xavier rubs his wrists and then brings his hand to your hair, stroking softly.

“I’m sorry.” His voice breaks and you climb up, straddling his waist now, and lean down to kiss him softly.

“I know.” You reach between you and stroke him slowly, trying not to make it painful for him, but he’s overstimulated so he hisses. Despite the pain, you can feel him hardening against your palm. “I’m gonna ride you.”

Xavier nods again, and soon you’re sinking down onto his cock. Your wet cunt swallows him easily, inner thighs wet from watching him fall apart so many times and beg to cum. You slide down until he’s as deep inside you as he can be – and you rock your hips. The cum from his prior orgasms sticks messily to your core and butt now, making you even slicker. His hands grip your hips, helping you move with sloppy rolls. Moans spill from your lips, and you press your hands to his chest to get more support. Oversensitive, he’s still a mess beneath you, gasping, his eyes wide but mind empty as he fucks up into you. His eyes shut tightly as he tries desperately to keep his orgasm at bay.

“B-babe…sweetheart, not gonna last.” He manages to get out, but you don’t stop, chasing your own orgasm now.

Xavier’s fingers grip your hips tighter, enough to bruise and he bucks up into you as he cums a third time, barely anything dripping out of him at this point. His face is screwed up and he moans high in his throat, almost a whine. He pants and your hips still now on him, Xavier being fully fucked dumb, gazing up at you in adoration.

You pull off him, knowing he’s too oversensitive to continue, settling back on his stomach. His eyes trail over your chest and back up to your face, his eyes widening as through his foggy brain he realizes that you didn’t cum. Embarrassment floods through him, and he reaches up and cups your cheek. His eyes fill with tears again, feeling guilty and so, so spent.

“I’m so fucking sorry. Come up here, ride my face.” He offers, and you finally smile that self-satisfied smirk down at him, able to tell how spent he is, but he’s so desperate to please you that he’d do anything.

You climb up his body, hovering over his face. Xavier immediately sinks two of his long fingers inside of you, and his tongue seeks out your clit. He sucks lazily, and you slowly grind your hips against his mouth. His tongue flattens against your clit so you can get the most friction possible.

He groans against your pussy as you roll your hips faster. Gripping onto his hair by the root, you use his mouth. His fingers drag in and out of you, your juices dripping down his wrist. Xavier slurps at your messy cunt, until you fall apart above him, legs shaking, and head thrown back as you moan his name.

Rolling off him, you take his fingers into your mouth and suck on your juices, before leaning down and pressing your cum-covered tongue into his tired mouth. He groans and sucks on your tongue, tearing another moan from your throat. After a moment, you pull away and smooth his sweaty hair back away from his face.

“I love you so much, Xavier. You did so good. Made me so proud tonight.” You murmur, leaning down and peppering his face with kisses. Xavier takes in a shaky breath, and slowly starts to weep against your shoulder. “I know, baby. I know. Let it out.”

“I-I love you too. I t-tried to be good for you. I’m sorry.”

“You are my good boy. I promise.” You nuzzle against him. “I was just showing you who you belong to. Was it too much?”

Xavier shakes his head, rubbing at his tears. You kiss them away and press your forehead to his.

“I know who I belong to. I deserved to be punished.” He sighs and looks up at you, tears starting to dry up. “I won’t let something like that happen again. I don’t want you to feel like you aren’t the most important girl in the world to me. If you really want to join the Nightshades, I’ll make it happen.”

You make a face, and he chuckles a little.

“How about we clean you up, baby? You’re covered…” You grin smugly as you look down at his cum-covered body.

Xavier nods, shutting his eyes for a minute and letting you get up to grab a damp cloth. Turning back, you take your time studying him. You’d never been prouder of him before. You can tell he’s starting to drift off, the night too much for him.

You start to clean him up, very gently rubbing the cool washcloth against his tired, warm skin.

“I love you.” He mutters, half asleep.

“I love you too, baby. Sleep now. I’ve got you.”

[thethirdtriplet]

Title: Mentor Tim

It was meant to be a simple mission.

Is what Red Robin was told, when he was summoned to the watchtower, and asked to intervene on a mission gone wrong, a mission that was meant to be handled by a bunch of teenagers, and while Tim wasn’t much of a fan of the justice league (maybe he was still salty about the whole not believing Bruce was alive thing, which was years ago, but his therapist said it was healthy to admit how you feel about things and people, so yeah he was still salty) and preferred taking on missions assigned from the Titans, he couldn’t not agree to the mission when he heard of the team that was assigned.

Young Justice.

Tim wasn’t aware there was even a Young Justice team still operational, as the hero community kept growing so has the number of sidekicks, he assumed all teens and sidekicks became teen titans, but then why would anyone dump their kids in Young Justice? With the team’s… eccentric reputation, Tim doubted it would ever be operational again.

That was until he read their files himself.

Name: Leonard.

Age: 15

Hero name: Iron knight.

Nationality: Irish.

Skin colour: Pale white.

Hair colour: Red.

Eye colour: Brown.

The ability to harden his body into a metallic texture.

—————————

Name: Keith.

Age: 16

Hero name: Ronin.

Nationality: Japanese, American.

Skin colour: White.

Hair colour: Black.

Eye colour: Black

Trained samurai from birth.

—————————

Name: Peter.

Age: 14

Hero name: Void.

Nationality: British.

Skin colour: White.

Hair colour: Blonde.

Eye colour: Blue.

The ability to create portals.

—————————

Name: Nickolas.

Age: 16

Hero name: Magus.

Nationality: French, American.

Skin colour: White.

Hair colour: Brown.

Eye colour: Green.

Magic user.

—————————

Name: Mateo.

Age: 15

Hero name: Surge.

Nationality: Mexican, American.

Skin colour: Tan skin.

Hair colour: Black.

Eye colour: Brown.

The ability to absorb high amounts of energy, and redirect it.

—————————

Name: Sofia.

Age: 15

Hero name: Ghost.

Nationality: Italian.

Skin colour: Pale White.

Hair colour: Brown.

Eye colour: Hazel.

The ability to turn invisible, and walk through walls.

—————————

Name: Amara.

Age: 13

Hero name: Whisper.

Nationality: Russian.

Skin colour: Pale White.

Hair colour: Blonde.

Eye colour: Grey.

Trained assassin from birth.

—————————

Name: Amber.

Age: 15

Hero name: Blaze.

Nationality: American.

Skin colour: White

Hair colour: Brown. (Dyed orange at the ends)

Eye colour: Brown.

The ability to create flames.

—————————

Those were probably the driest files Tim’s ever read, he knows supervillains with files less vague than these, so he had to do more research himself, reading into more personal details about each member it wasn’t hard to realise that each kid had their own issues, issues apparently no one was interested in dealing with, because the kids had no official mentor, they had been trained for some time from different leaguers, but that’s it.

Black canary has been working with them for some time now, for hand to hand combat, and as a licensed therapist, but there’s only so much she can do for those kids, seeing as most of them had been mistreated their whole lives, mostly by adults, it wouldn’t be surprising for them to be mistrustful.

That’s how Tim found himself, on a jet (that may or may not be the batjet, just don’t tell Bruce), headed to help those kids with their mission.

Once he arrived at the warehouse, he observed the situation from above, through a skylight, and watched as disaster unfolded right before his eyes. The kids were incredibly uncoordinated, some were arguing amongst themselves, while others seemed as though they had no understanding of the word teamwork, just when the goons they were meant to be fighting began to get the upper hand, did Tim join the fight.

His appearance halted most, if not all movement from both sides of the fight, he used that to his advantage and struck the men, taking them down one by one, as he shouted commands for the young teens to follow. Once the young heroes realised he wasn’t a threat, they took action almost immediately, following through on his instructions religiously.

As the last goon was zip-tied, Red Robin was approached by one of the teens, Surge (Mateo).

“Uhh.. Red Robin, ..sir?” Asked the boy

“Yes, Surge?”

“W-what are you doing here?”

“I was asked by the justice league to intervene on your mission, seeing as you weren’t able to complete it yourselves.” Red Robin replied Non-condescendingly.

Blaze (Amber) scoffed and said “As if the Justice League cared.”

Red Robin’s attention was turned to her as he spoke “What do you mean by that?”

As if opening a can of soda that’s been shaken too much, she spoke with relentless fury “Well if they cared, really cared they’d show it, wouldn’t they!? They’re not even pretending to care at this point! Heck the only leaguer we talk to regularly is Black Canary, but that’s for hand to hand and therapy, other than that no one comes around unless they have to, and even when they do, they don’t even bother hiding the fact that they’d rather be anywhere else if it meant they wouldn’t have to deal with us!” By the end of her tirade, she was trembling, with hatred, anger and…hurt..

“You’re right” the words left his mouth before his mind even registered he was speaking, not that his words weren’t true.

( The scene before him, of a group of children that felt abandoned, neglected and lonely, came from a very familiar play )

The atmosphere shifted as all eyes landed on Red Robin, as he spoke, he knew they were listening to his words ( it wasn’t everyday that someone actually understood you, as a teenager, let alone an adult ), “You’re right, the Justice League, has wronged, mistreated and neglected you, in more ways than just training, they’ve failed to acknowledge your presence, despite your need of proper guidance” no one spoke so he continued, “That is a mistake on their end, no yours, and so, it shouldn’t be you who suffers in the end. That wouldn’t be fair to you” silence still echoed as no one dared interrupt him, “I will bring this up with the league as soon as I return to the Watchtower.” (Is it just him or did he sound a little bit ‘adulty’? His therapist would be so proud).

His eyes soften and so did his voice as he took in the sight of the tired worn out teenagers, before him, “But for now I should take you all back to your headquarters, you seem like you need you need a nice hot meal, a warm shower and a good nights sleep, you’ve sure as hell earned it”. The kids seemed taken aback by his suggestion, as if they hadn’t expected him to suggest what he did, but none of them objected. Void (peter), spoke, “The Justice League sent us an automated jet, to get us here”, he was rubbing the back of his neck with his hands, “We don’t really know how to get back...?" He added awkwardly. “No worries, my jet is big enough to fit all of you just fine” said Tim, smugly. “Is that so? Is your jet that big?” Ronin (Keith), asked curious. “That depends, have any of you seen a Bat-jet before?”, Tim swore he could see stars in their -masked- eyes.

———————————

Mount Justice -apparently their base of operations- is in mint condition, thankfully (he was going to have words with the league if it wasn’t), looking around it’s obvious the kids haven’t been comfortable enough to mess around with the place (he’ll have to change that).

In a way it’s quite nostalgic, to walk around in his old h.q., though there’s still a few differences compared to back then, Like the brood of ducklings kids that are currently staring at him. “So.. are you guys gonna order something, or does one of you know how to cook?” Asked Tim, “Some of us can cook just fine, but we’re too tired to do so, sir” Magus (Nickolas) spoke, evidently wary in the presence of an adult, but still attempting to be polite.

“Y’know I could just order something for you guys.”, suggested Tim, “No, no need we can order for ourselves just fine.” replied Iron knight (Leonard), “I insist. Tell me what you’re in the mood for, pastas, burgers, pizza?” Once he noticed them perk up at the mention of pizza, he began to scroll through the numbers on his phone, searching for that one pizza place he liked as a teen (the one he used to order from, for the team, man he missed those idiots, he should reach out to them soon).

“Are you sure, sir? There’s no need for you to order for us.” Questioned Ghost (Sofia), “Yes, I’m sure, what toppings do you guys want?”, they suggested he order only one pizza with no toppings, which he immediately shut down, and even threatened to choose the toppings himself (“Do you want me to put pineapples on your pizza’s? Don’t test me, now choose.”), once almost everyone chose the topping for their own pizza, he turned to the only occupant of the room that hadn’t spoken, “And what about you, Whisper, what do you want?”, the girl in question -who had been observing him, silently for quite some time now, is she assessing whether or not he’s a threat?- Peter spoke for her “Uhh.. She can’t talk, she’s mute..”, “Black Canary’s brought her a few teachers for a while, but she didn’t like them much, so she stopped showing up to lessons after a while.” Mateo added.

The hesitant-comfortable atmosphere they’ve had for some time now almost broke, as all the teens looked to him, as if gaging his reaction, all in defensive stances (Tim had to hand it to them, for being willing to defend their teammate, against someone who was probably way out of their league), calmly, he spoke “No worries, I know a bit of sign myself”, “Though, I am a bit rusty” he added, bashfully.

Hesitantly, Amara lifted her hand to finger spell ‘C h e s e’, “Oh, just cheese, sure.” said Tim, the once tense atmosphere returned to it’s semi-calmness, as the teens sighed in relief, (seriously, what did they expect him to do, judge her?).

———————————

Tim stayed with the team, up until the food arrived, they were all lounging in the ‘living room’ (it was just a big circular area, that connected all the rooms together, that you had to pass to enter a bedroom, it had couches and sofas), Tim observed the teens, as they helped themselves, with their pizzas, some even opted to shed a few items of clothing, while others, changed out of their costumes completely, politely they began a bit of small talk to pass the time as they waited the foods arrival, at some point the topic of hero’s came up, which then somehow led to a very heated discussion as to which hero could take down who.

Tim -Red Robin at the moment- who had spent an ungodly amount of time analysing various hero’s, old and new, their fighting styles, their abilities, strengths and weaknesses, and has written contingencies for most, if not all of them, was more than happy to share his findings. Especially since they seemed so interested in the topic, and whatever Tim -Red Robin- had to say about the heroes? Well, Who was he to deny their curiosity.

He knew he made the right call, when it got the kids comfortable in his presence.

(Was he gossiping with a bunch of teens over heroes who are basically his coworkers? Yes. Yes, he was.)

“No way, Wonder Woman, is the best superhero, period” said Peter.

“Really? You think she’d win against Superman?” Asked Leonard, curiously.

“The Superman?” Questioned Sofia.

“What say you, Red?” Asked Keith.

Red Robin, or “Red” as they’ve taken to calling him, answered, “I’m with Void on this one.” Tim didn’t miss the way he basically preened at his words, “I’m pretty sure she can kick any leaguers ass, any day.”

“Even Batman..?” Asked Mateo, in a hushed tone, as if just speaking his name would summon him (it was amusing, but understandable).

“What do you think his contingencies are for?” Replied Red, with a Smirk.

“Isn’t he.. I don’t know, your boss or something” Asked Nickolas, confused.

“I like to think I’m my own boss, thanks” replied Tim. (He may, or may not get bullied into visiting the manor, regularly, by various members of the Batfamily, no one needs to know that, though.)

“What?” Asked Tim, when he noticed the sudden silence.

“Huh.” Said Amber, as if a realization had just dawned on her “You’re actually way cooler than I thought you’d be.”.

“Gee, thanks.” Deadpanned Tim.

“She is not wrong.” At Tim’s raised eyebrow, Keith elaborated, “All the leaguers we have met so far were not interested in our wellbeing.”

“Yeah, they’d just complete whatever task they have, with us, and just leave.” Nickolas added.

“I don’t remember if any of them ever asked if we were tired or hungry. Unlike you.” Sofia continued.

“None of them ever stayed long enough to even speak to us.” said Leonard.

“And when they did, we couldn’t have normal conversations like this one, all we did was have a mission debriefing.” spoke Peter.

“Or we wouldn’t say anything at all, incase we say something.. offensive in any way.” Finished Amber.

Amara simply nodded.

Tim felt his blood boil (is that a thing? Whatever, it didn’t matter as long as it described just how furious he was) “Is that so..?”

Tim kept processing their words, even as they transgressed onto another subject, though, he knew he couldn’t stay long, so he bid them farewell, to head back to the Watchtower -via zeta tube- and tried not to let their disappointment affect him (with what he has in mind, for them, their dissatisfaction with his departure won’t last long), he had a few senior league members to speak with about an adoption a mentorship request.

And he couldn’t wait a second longer.

———————————

It took some getting used to, Tim will have to admit, for him and the team (his team now), to get used to their new relationship, as mentor and mentees.

The sudden announcement of his now mentorship over the teens, was made only a week after his hangout stay with the team, (it would have taken longer, had he not urged the senior league members to officiate it, and if he made a few, mild, harmless threats, to insure the job was done properly, Batman would be blamed for teaching him how to in-list fear), it did surprise the teens a bit, still, they took the news with stride (whether that was because they’ve never had an official mentor before, and were eager, or that they genuinely liked Red Robin, Tim isn’t sure).

Tim would like to point out, that they’ve made significant progress, in the last two months they’ve been working together.

They’re actually brilliant students, fast learners, always ready to try out a new training program, any chance they get, they soak up any knowledge he offers, like little sponges. They try to follow his teachings without fail, and even trust him when on missions, enough to let him lead them. They look to him for guidance when they need him, and he tries to always be there, to help (and maybe that’s what strengthened their new bond, the fact that he tries to be there, especially when they need him).

It wasn’t always as easy, not in the beginning, no. They liked him, Tim was sure of that, but liking someone doesn’t necessarily mean you trust them. Trust was something meant to be earned, not given. Tim had earned the right, to be trusted.

They trust him enough to act themselves around him. And just as they had gotten comfortable with him, did he realize why they were placed in YJ. He knew deep down, the reason stemmed from their traumatic backstories, strange powers, and ‘behavioral issues’ (talking back, is not a behavioral issue, fuck whoever wrote that in Amber’s file), Seeing as the team’s former members were regarded as “nutcases” by the media, it was a no wonder they would be placed there in the first place. Not that the kids tried proving anyone wrong (“Why waste time trying to show someone who you are, when they have already made up their mind, about you?” Those were the wise words of Keith, a young boy forced to mature faster than most teenagers, Tim could relate).

They were skilled, skilled boys and girls, using their gifts for good, to do good, and be good. They shouldn’t be criticized for being good. Just because they were.. creative with their skills, did he mention that? They’re incredibly creative with their skills, the stunts they pull would bring his old teams shenanigans to shame:

“How did you guys manage to burn and flood a building at the same time?!-”

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder, why?

“-Is- is the building crumbling?! How did you do that?-”

Other times, he can’t help but wonder, how?

“Why in the world did you guys think this was a good idea, Surge?”

“Do you remember that one mission we did last week, when we discovered a secret lab, full of animals that were being experimented on?” Questioned, the boy.

“Yes, I do. But, what does that have to do with this?”

“We found out who owned that lab.”

The building -A Lexcorp building, mind you- blows up, promptly, after his admission.

“Void! I thought we told you to be careful with those!” admonishes, Blaze.

“My Bad!” apologized, Void.

“Ahh, I see, carry on.” Dismissed, Red Robin.

What? Yeah, so maybe he isn’t any better than they are, and he is might be the adult that’s in charge of them, But, who is he to stop them from doing their jobs, as hero’s?

And they’re applying what he taught them, in the field?

He couldn’t be any prouder.

“What’s going on here?” A new voice, interrupted his and Surge’s conversation. A new but familiar voice, actually. One that belongs to a certain Kryptonian.

Red Robin, and his students, that came up to him, not long after the building Burst to flames, turned around to witness Superboy (Conner Kent) descent from the skies, along with Wondergirl (Cassandra Sandmark), followed by Impulse (Bartholomew Allen) on land.

“Hey Rob!” Bart waved his hand so quickly, it fazed.

“Really, Rob, we leave you alone, to go on a mission off-planet, only to find out you’ve become a teacher?” Chides Cassie, fondly. Then, she states “And here I thought we were friends” putting a hand on her chest, were her heart is, feigning hurt.

“And look, he’s already causing trouble with them.” Conner points out, Bart adds “It’s like we don’t even know you anymore.” while wiping away a fake tear.

“Haha, very funny, you guys.” Deadpans Tim, though secretly amused.

“If you’re done with the theatrics.” He sends them a pointed look, before gesturing to the.. starstruck kids next to him (?), “Allow me to introduce to you, the newest Young Justice members.”

This was probably going to be the beginning of something beautiful, or incredibly disastrous… meh, he’ll let the universe decide, and just go with the flow.

[zaebeecee]

Fight and Flight ••

Pre-RadioDust Oneshot •

Read on AO3

•••

Based on this headcanon from @alastorsfluffydeertail. Thank you for letting me use this as a prompt, my dear, and I’m sorry I took it a bit off the rails (as I am wont to do). This is what I get for never planning anything out.

But also if anyone thinks the Hazbin Hotel residents wouldn’t prank each other, they’re wrong.

•••

When Angel Dust had first agreed to move into the Hazbin Hotel (back when it was the Happy Hotel, whose name alone was almost enough to make him refuse no matter how well he was paid for the evening), it was the first time in his entire existence in Hell that he had known exactly what to expect. The princess had a fucking stupid plan about getting sinners into Heaven and her bodyguard/girlfriend/what the fuck ever was apparently determined to help her see it out; Angel knew a hopeless cause when he saw one, and more importantly, he knew how to capitalize on it.

Of course, he had forgotten one very key detail: sinners were human at their core, and when humans spent a lot of time in close proximity, they got to know each other really well. And when people got to know each other really well, that meant bonding was basically unavoidable.

It was easy to forget the ‘human’ factor of sinners at VoxTek, particularly when someone spent too much time around the Vees. Sometimes, Angel thought of them as less ‘humans’ and more ‘evil entities that had learned how to mimic the worst of human behavior with extra capitalism’, and because of that he had kept company with them as little as possible since Valentino had showed his true colors and backhanded Angel for the very first time. But the Hazbin Hotel was not VoxTek, and the other residents of the hotel were not the Vees. They were mostly relatively normal people, when you put aside things like noble station and overlord rank, and that complicated Angel’s initial plan.

Originally, he had agreed simply to take advantage of not having to pay rent and not having to live under Val’s thumb at all times. It was a simple scheme: follow just as many rules as he absolutely had to in order to avoid getting kicked out, keep as much of his drug usage off the property as he could, and bat his eyes and make super sappy apologies about ‘trying his best’ whenever he got caught. It would have gone great if not for one tiny little hiccup.

He liked them.

Damn them to a lower ring of Hell, but Angel liked the fuckers, and it wasn’t long before he realized that they were becoming friends. Of course, they were also a bunch of pricks who’d been punished with eternal damnation for the crime of being assholes in life, so with friendship came the inevitable bullshit of having asshole friends. This, frequently, meant pranks of varying degrees of severity and creativity.

In Angel’s defense, he didn’t start it. The whole thing began when someone (who was never actually identified) convinced all of the Egg Bois that they were named after different members of the Rat Pack (to go with Frank) and that Pentious really loved being serenaded with ‘Ain’t That A Kick In The Head’ at all times. It had started out kind of funny—the Egg Bois couldn’t keep time with each other and it got even worse when they tried to manufacture their own Dean Martin impersonations—but it had quickly grown into the absolute worst thing Angel had ever had the displeasure to suffer. Husk, accurately, determined that it was “proof of Hell’s eternal punishment”. Eventually, Charlie helped Pentious right them, but it was way, way too late.

The war was on, and it quickly spread to everyone in the hotel without mercy. And, unpredictably, it seemed everyone was in on the game in one capacity or another.

Everyone had their own weak points when it came to getting ‘punk’d’, as Vaggie called it with an impressively straight face. Charlie could be convinced of just about anything if you said it with enough conviction, and Husk was alarmingly easy to gaslight if you could rearrange or abscond with his bar equipment when he wasn’t looking. Niffty was, of course, weak to cleaning pranks (but they had quickly determined the Stabbing Threshold, which was the point where it wasn’t funny anymore and she would legitimately gut someone), and you could do a million things to Pentious if you got into his lab, as long as you didn’t break anything. Angel was particularly proud of the time he got Vaggie to fully arm herself and go all the way up onto the roof of the hotel to ‘challenge an intruder’ who ended up being a hellsquirrel, but she had gotten him back by coming into the kitchen while he was cooking, staring him dead in the eye, and breaking all of the spaghetti before he could stop her.

And Alastor? Well, no one could get into his room, or his radio tower, or even find him if he didn’t want to be found, which rendered him immune to most forms of planned tomfoolery. But when he was there? He was easy, because he was a jumpy fucker if you caught him off guard, and a single loud noise close enough behind him would send him shadow teleporting onto some other surface (the mantle of the lobby fireplace on one particularly memorable occasion).

It was fun. Or, at least, it was supposed to be fun. That was why they had a set number of rules: no staining anything Niffty had to clean (and no glitter, which was a personal rule for Angel after that one time), no making Charlie cry, no breaking Pentious’s equipment or Husk’s bottles, no fucking with Vaggie’s weapons and armor, and absolutely nothing involving Fat Nuggets. Other than that, it was open season on everyone.

Charlie was conducting one of her little trust building exercises one evening, the entire hotel (sans Alastor) her captives for the duration of the entire exercise. Cherri had made the mistake of showing up just before it began, and curiosity had roped her in; now, she was sitting next to Angel and watching Charlie coaching Vaggie and Husk through some kind of role playing exercise with an open sort of fascination.

“Is it always like this?” Cherri murmured, leaning on Angel’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Angel whispered back. “I got no fuckin’ idea how this’s supposed to get us redeemed, tho, all it’s ever done is made me hate kids.”

Cherri snorted. “Why isn’t Radio Face here?”

Angel rolled his eyes. “He’s the hotelier,” he said, exaggerating Alastor’s transatlantic delivery and overly precise French pronunciation. “He don’t gotta participate, apparently, because he ain’t up for bein’ made better or whatever. Come to think of it, I ain’t seen him in a few days. Think he’s been out.”

Like Angel had spoken a cue, the radio on the lobby table made gentle static noises, and a couple of the lights flickered, just slightly. Everyone stopped, glancing around, because that meant one thing: Alastor was nearby, and he was either very angry or very tired, and either way it meant he wasn’t checking his power as much as he usually did. It had freaked Angel out the first time, but eventually, he learned to interpret it as a sign that Alastor was returning after a long bout of ‘personal business’ and probably wasn’t going to be bothering any of them.

Cherri grinned. “I’m gonna fuck with him,” she said into the silent room.

Angel let out a single barking laugh as Charlie said, “Oh, no, don’t, he’s probably exhausted.”

“That’s the best time to get him,” Husk said reasonably, immediately discarding the script he’d had thrust on him as soon as he noticed that Charlie wasn’t focusing on him anymore. “He’ll probably be too tired to actually retaliate.”

“Besides,” Pentious said, “he hasn’t exactly held back with anyone else. I’m still positive he started this. I just need to prove it,” he hissed, hunching over his clasped hands and rubbing them together.

Niffty patted the table with her palms a few times, grinning brightly. “I wanna see Cherri scare Alastor~”

“You can’t scare Alastor,” Angel said with a disbelieving snort. “Startle him, sure, but scare? Bullshit.”

Vaggie sighed. “Do I need to prepare damage control?”

“Relax, I’m not gonna cause property damage,” Cherri said. “I just wanna get the bitch back for what he did to my stuff last time I was here. I’m still finding ticker tape everywhere, even in my own goddamn apartment.”

Charlie looked uncomfortable, but of course, she was always the most hesitant when it came to their petty little game. “Okay, I guess that’s fine,” she said reluctantly. “But don’t overdo it, okay?”

Everyone waited with bated breath, Cherri tossing a small bomb over to the corner near the front door. It was only a few seconds before they heard the click and Alastor stepped in, looking as though he had been through the wringer and was doing his damndest to hold it together. He didn’t even notice any of them, shutting the door behind him and immediately beginning a slow beeline for the stairs.

Angel had only half a second to form the thought that it might not be a great idea after all when Cherri clapped her hands sharply and the little bomb behind Alastor went off with a loud crack and a spark of bright pink light. The sound Alastor made wasn’t quite a scream; it was really more of a startled yip, a high and animalistic noise that hurt Angel’s ears with its sharp edge. He bolted instantly, dropping his microphone staff along the way and running blindly straight into a wall. There was a loud impact as he collided with the immovable structure of the hotel, the sound a little weird and followed by a series of loud yelps. Almost immediately, everyone could see exactly what happened: in his alarm, Alastor’s antlers had expanded, and they were now stuck pretty firmly in the wall.

Cherri was the first one who laughed, but she wasn’t the only one. Angel had to admit, it was funny, watching the big bad Radio Demon struggle to unstick himself from a wall, of all things. The laughter was contagious, spreading through the group in a rippling wave. In moments, the only one who wasn’t laughing was Charlie, who dropped her own script pages and ran straight over to try and help Alastor liberate himself.

Angel leaned forward as Cherri slapped his back in her laughter, and he rubbed a tear of mirth out of his eye, looking over to where Charlie was failing to even approach the struggling overlord. Angel watched as he took a swipe at her with a clawed hand, ineffectually scrabbling at the wall with the other and kicking the baseboard in an attempt to extricate himself without retracting his antlers.

The moment Angel heard Alastor’s distressed keening noise, he realized Alastor couldn’t retract his antlers. He wasn’t just exhausted, he was panicking and…

Humiliated.

Angel jumped to his feet, guilt smothering his amusement like a bucket of water on a birthday candle. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled over everyone’s cackling, his unusually sharp tone enough to startle all of them into a silence that highlighted the way Alastor’s breathing had become high and far too fast. Angel didn’t bother with any admonishment, instead running over to where the other sinner had trapped himself and taking Charlie by the shoulders. “Move,” he said, not taking his eyes off Alastor.

She looked up at him. “But— but he’s—!”

“I got it. Move.” As Charlie backed off, Angel approached, trying to put himself in Alastor’s line of sight. His sclera had gone entirely black and his smile was tight and stressed; Angel couldn’t actually see, but he was pretty sure Alastor’s irises had turned into radio dials. “Hey, Alastor,” he said gently, immediately bending backwards as the overlord took a vicious swipe at him, too. “Whoa, whoa, big guy, it’s okay.”

When Alastor put both of his hands on the wall and ineffectually shrugged with a cry that was almost pathetic, Angel took the opportunity to swoop in, hoping Alastor’s physiology was as close to human as it looked and that this didn’t get him gutted. He pushed one hand up into Alastor’s hair from his nape, cradling the back of his head with his palm and gently pressing his fingers into the bases of Alastor’s antlers. A second hand cupped the back of Alastor’s neck, thumb and forefinger immediately seeking out the pressure points at the base of his skull. His third hand went to Alastor’s back, stroking down his spine before lifting and repeating the motion as though he was trying to calm a stressed animal. And his fourth hand just rested on Alastor’s shoulder, primarily so he would feel it if the Radio Demon lashed out and could attempt to evade if necessary.

“Hey, Smiles, it’s okay, it’s just me,” Angel said as soothingly as he could when he felt Alastor’s muscles growing so taut that he feared the other demon would snap into pieces. “Shh, it’s okay, ain’t nobody in here gonna give you any shit, I promise. And if they try, I’ll kill ‘em for you, or at least hold ‘em down while you kill ‘em, okay?”

Angel kept up his gentle touches, leaning close to murmur low enough that only Alastor could hear him, and silently marveled at the fact that he was touching Alastor and Alastor was letting him. His hair was soft, and his coat was clearly made from expensive material, but even through the thick cloth Angel’s fingers could have counted his ribs and each individual vertebrae. And slowly, in response to his touch, Alastor actually began to relax. His breath slowed, his smile grew less tense, and with a crackle of broken plaster, his antlers slowly began to recede.

“You can rip everybody up into tiny pieces, and then I’ll help ya make jambalaya or gumbo or whatever you want outta their bits. Or I can make bolognese outta them. Whatever you’re feelin’.” That was enough to get the smallest noise of amusement from Alastor, more of a huff of breath than anything else, but with that his antlers returned to their usual shape.

As he finally freed himself from the wall, Angel made to release him, but Alastor spun to face him at an alarming speed and seized him by his upper arms. “Alastor—?!” Angel’s voice was a soft exclamation, but he froze, watching Alastor hang his head and regain control of his ragged and pained breathing.

Angel was anticipating having his arms ripped straight from his body—nobody touched Alastor, especially not when he wasn’t expecting it—but Alastor just held onto him like he was genuinely afraid Angel was about to disappear. His grip wasn’t even painful, just tight. Desperate, maybe, though with his panic gone Angel couldn’t begin to understand why. But even as he held onto Angel’s arms, Alastor’s wicked claws didn’t so much as scratch him, and his hands… they were soft.

It felt like an hour passed before Alastor’s breathing evened out, but Angel knew it was only a few seconds. Slowly, Alastor raised his head to look up at Angel, his ears laid flat against his head and his eyes wide, but no longer manic. Before, Angel had always associated Alastor’s eyes with the color of blood, but this close… they were more like deep garnet set into rich ruby. For the eyes of a mass murdering serial killer, they were almost alarmingly warm as they caught Angel’s gaze and held it.

“…thank you, Angel.”

The words were spoken so quietly Angel wouldn’t have heard them if Alastor hadn’t been mere inches from him. Before he could even consider formulating a response, the shadows Alastor so fondly called his friends swirled up from the ground, wrapping around his body and pulling him into blackness. It was his hands that pulled away last, gently releasing Angel’s arms and leaving trails with fingertips that made the spider’s flesh tingle. For the briefest moment, Alastor’s shadow remained, and Angel thought it was watching him with something that felt like wary curiosity before it too vanished.

Angel stared at the broken wall and the plaster that littered the carpet as Charlie stormed back to the group, lighting into them for being mean and immediately beginning to lay new ground rules, but Angel barely heard a word she said. He folded his arms and placed his hands where Alastor’s had been moments before, like he could still feel the other sinner holding onto him like a lifeline, and marveled at his own foolishness.

When, he wondered, had he started caring this much about Alastor’s wellbeing? When had Alastor decided that Angel Dust of all people was worthy of breaking his five foot rule, even in such extraordinary circumstances? When had Angel determined it was worth risking his own health and safety to prevent Alastor from hurting himself?

And, most importantly, what was he doing thinking about Alastor at all?

•

The next evening, Angel was in his bedroom cleaning his toys when a dome of shadow manifested on his floor mere feet away from him. He squealed in alarm, launching himself backwards and tumbling off the other side of his bed to land in a graceless heap on his floor. Swearing he could hear something giggling somewhere around him, he grabbed his comforter and hauled himself up, leaning on the mattress with his arms and peering around suspiciously.

The shadow was gone, and Angel didn’t see any threats or blood or threatening animal corpses. He did, however, see a plate sitting on his floor. That plate held a stack of some kind of pastries and a folded card with his name on it.

“…the fuck…” Angel muttered, clambering over his bed and hopping down to land beside the plate. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the plate was full of freshly-baked beignets, generously covered with powdered sugar and still so warm that the sugar was beginning to melt. He picked up the card and looked at the delicate penmanship spelling out ‘Angel Dust’, then flipped it open, taking in the simple message written so beautifully.

Tell no one. You know what will happen if you do.

Angel felt himself actually smiling in a way that he hadn’t for a very long time, folding the card again and pressing the corner to his lips. He considered for a moment, then glanced at a nearby shadow. “You can tell him I ain’t gonna let anybody know he baked somethin’ for me like a sweetheart.” He didn’t see Alastor’s shadow, but he heard another giggle and he knew it was there.

He picked up the plate and carried it to his bed, opening his bedside table drawer and slipping the note in with a few other belongings that he didn’t want anyone else seeing but liked having on hand. As he laid on his bed, petting Fat Nuggets and nibbling on delicious baked goods and texting with Cherri about how Alastor had apparently gotten into her apartment and hidden all of her explosive components around the city, leaving only a very obtuse list of scavenger hunt-style clues… Angel wondered if he was starting to remember what being happy felt like.

•••

[ecto-hazard]

I just rewatched ii s1 (fucked up right?)

im just gonna make a post compiling some barebones concepts that im curious about. cause with the latest reveal, im wondering how much previous stuff might become relevant.

Obviously this was made years ago by a bunch of kids so its possible that most of the details can be disregarded as random bullshit. It does seem like they put a lot of work in creating retcons though so I have reason to believe theyre building off their previous work on purpose but i could be wrong and thats fair. im gonna post about it anyway tho

ii16 spoilers discussed under the cut

Who Mephone created (or rather, didn't create)

Mephone supposedly made every contestant for the show, but there's a couple vague characters.

Fan: weirdly enough he's in a gray area cause he appears as a background character before s2, but he also glitched out in that one episode, so its unlikely he wasnt created by Mephone. But yknow.

Apple: Apple is a fan character who was submitted to the show, and this is addressed in canon. It's possible that mephone made her and the other fan contestants based on whatever the submitters asked?

Bow: she randomly shows up after an ad read. Mephone doesnt seem to even want her to join, but he receives a call from Adam to insist she join. Mephone seems quite resistant to the idea (which would be weird if he made her?) Most interestingly, she's the only one in this list that Mephone couldn't recover.

Dough MIGHT be one mephone didnt create, but it seems pretty likely that Mephone would create him as he was specifically requested by adam to get bow back. Dough does seem like something he'd throw together really quickly to cover his ass

The reason any of this could be relevant is that if they arent created by Mephone, they probably cant be deleted by Cobs.

Adam

Stuff about Adam (the character not the guy) has been kinda quiet lately? He was supposedly the producer of ii, and pays mephone apparently? He clearly has a role to play since he showed up in one of Mephone's memories and seems to be a creation by cobs. So observing his actions in s1 might be valuable, especially since cobs would be able to manipulate the show through him.

Some notable actions of his:

Insisting on Bow being in the show. This is doubly interesting if Bow isn't one of Mephone's creations. She could be an industry plant of some kind?

Telling Mephone to keep 4S out of the season finale. This is supposedly to keep the finale from going crazy. If Mephone had been successful, he wouldve been killed by Mephone 5. Its possible this was on purpose so 4 could be destroyed and replaced

Investing in another season. at the end of s2, despite things going wrong, he tells Mephone they're going to do another season. He sweetens the deal by offering a raise and agreeing to get Mephone an assistant (Toilet). Cobs clearly got invested in this show, so it makes sense he'd encourage more of it from the shadows.

Mephone 4S

Yeah talking about 4S isn't anything new, the fandom's obsessed with him. I am too.

The implications of Mephone4 being in 4S's body never really got explored in s2. I guess they were similar enough that it didn't really matter. But he clearly still has some relevance in the modern series. One of Mephone's memories shows him getting developed as a replacement for 4, and he actually appears in Invitational, Sorta? Clearly Mephone's bothered by the sacrifice he made.

At the very least, the show's reminding us that he existed, so maybe he still does exist? I don't think he's going to necessarily make a comeback or anything but I dunno. It seems like he might be able to talk to Mephone in his head so maybe there's something to that.

Evil Paper

Im just gonna be upfront that I don't have a dissociative disorder and its not my place to talk about how it works or what is good or bad representation so I'm not gonna get super deep into talking about this. I'm just curious if the team has any plans for addressing Evil Paper. They seemed to make an effort into writing Yin Yang more thoughtfully (whether or not they actually succeeded, again, not my say). I could see them giving Paper similar treatment. If they did I doubt it'd be very plot relevant though.

Is the Taco we got the Taco we were supposed to have?

I've actually seen this conversation circulate a little bit already. This sort of debate could apply to any character really, but Taco is perhaps the most interesting example because she's so involved in the latest episodes AND because Brian actually addressed a tweet about this.

Taco behaves like a goofy idiot for the majority of s1, only revealing at the end that she was faking it so she would make it to the end. She specifically says she was "built to win" (the quote Brian addresses), and shows a much more competent side when she actually competes. In fact if it weren't for Bow's interference, Taco would have won the challenge (another case of Bow being weird).

This all seems to imply that Taco may have been intended to win the series by Mephone. Cobs points out to Suitcase and Knife that Mephone had "high hopes" for them, so it's not unreasonable to say that maybe certain characters were liked over others. Mephone never seems to give special treatment openly, but that doesn't mean that when he made certain contestants he didn't at the very least expect them to do well.

What is highly unlikely though is that Taco was created to be a twist villain. This results in Mephone's death after all (though the activity of Bow and Mephone 5 also could be to blame). Especially since he had pressure from Adam to keep things running smoothly, it just wouldn't make sense that Mephone would specifically create someone to toss a wrench in things. Most likely Taco developed like this on her own accord.

But that also raises the question, if she wasn't meant to be a villain, what was she supposed to be? How much of the taco we have now is the Taco that Mephone created? We don't actually see how he reacts to her "reveal" because he's in the middle of running away from 5. But everyone else clearly never saw it coming. OJ specifically comments that this doesn't seem like "the Taco he's been competing with all this time," and while that's written in reference to her reveal, it also could mean she WASNT the Taco he'd been competing with. We do get a hint or two of her true self in previous episodes, but its possible she wasn't ever supposed to be like that.

I think its possible Mephone4 created her as a goofy goober joke character initially, and over time, she changed. She developed into a more tactful and villainous character with her exposure to the contest.

A few things in the most recent episodes might allude to this. One thing being how in ii15 she discusses how she became aware of how much the contest is changing everyone, herself included. Secondly, in ii16 she tells Pickle that at the time she didn't consider how her actions were going to hurt him. This is a really shitty apology and no excuse for it, but it ALSO could mean that at the time, Taco really didn't think about it. In S1, she claims that she was just using him, but we don't know how aware of herself she was back then. Its possible that there was a past version of Taco who wasn't deadset on winning no matter the cost, and being in the game changed her.

Anyway these have been my slopthoughts. It's like 9 pm and ive been writing this for like an hour. Maybe most of this wont get addressed at all in the series, but I figured i might as well compile it down since I just finished s1

[periprose]

I don't know if my ask got 'eaten' or not, but I did send it while I was on the road so I may have screwed it up anyway. My ask is based on your reblog of the 3 word sentences and if you care to, it's a twofer based plot: numbers 12 and 18 (just do it and you look lost) because I am a dithering decision maker except!! when I am going somewhere in which case my overconfidence gets me in trouble, something Peter knows too well himself. Love your writing!

unfortunately it did but I love this prompt so thank you for resending it!

Prompts can be found here

Peter is fairly sure that he's the one who's always late to everything. Every single seminar for this new Oscorp tech breakdown, he's the one who's five minutes late, and he swears it's not his fault.

It's just that he always happens to run into Spider-Man duties. He always finds another old woman who needs to cross the street, or a newspaper stand that has just been stolen from, and then after saving the day, he can make time towards catching the next subway train to Oscorp and hopefully run up the stairs, through the door, into the lobby, elevator, and then to the board room with a minute to spare. It always works out better in his head. 

He doesn't understand why Harry needs him there. Peter knows technology stuff like the back of his hand– he already understood what the seminar leader who oversaw the development of the new tech was saying halfway through the meeting, and basically put the concluding points together before the meeting was even over. 

Peter is nothing if not a good friend. Or employee who will be sent off with a strict warning if he doesn’t at least try.

This time, though? Peter has just made it to the subway station, and his glance catches onto a woman with a muted blue handbag, looking mostly competent and professional in a blazer, staring at the map, very obviously confused. He decides to be a good civilian and take a moment to help her. Just as Peter Parker, good guy who has two extra minutes to spare. Not because she happens to be a little more pleasant to look at than the rest of the passerby. She does really have bright eyes, though, and the way they catch onto every written detail of the map has Peter wanting those eyes on him.

Unfortunately, as she’s dithering and Peter approaches a little too slowly, about to work up the nerve to ask if she needs help, she suddenly mutters “Just do it! Who cares…” with a sudden bout of confidence, and she walks off towards the train heading North. The same train Peter is due to take.

Peter is kind of elated by this, even though he knows he’s a total dork and he doesn’t actually have the courage to speak to her. Even though Harry makes life sound like a romance movie– that apparently all it takes is the right conversation starter– Peter knows he can’t manage it. He’ll trip over his words and make the wrong jokes, and she’ll give him a polite nod while secretly dialing 911.

He’s just happy to have a commute crush to stare at.

The southbound train arrives from the opposite side of the road, and loudly beeps as the doors open.

Peter’s Spider-Sense goes off and he sees that a bunch of people are starting to exit the train, right into the poor woman who gets turned around a bunch of times and then looks utterly lost. Helpless. Eyes widening with the telltale fear of someone who doesn’t know where they’re going. 

Well, we can’t have that, can we? Peter decides to saunter up to her and be her hero of the day.

/

You are so horrible with making decisions sometimes. Unless, of course, it’s taking a new journey somewhere, with directions you’re not exactly familiar with– for some reason leaping into it headfirst works better, cements it into your brain better if you have to travel around these parts around later, and you usually have the time to figure it out.

Of course, this time you’re late. This time, when you need to present a great big presentation at Oscorp, where your big new tech job is, you’re late, and you had to be overconfident about figuring out the directions.

God, couldn’t you have just asked for help?

As you’re beginning to spiral– was it the north train, or the south, will this crowd ever dissipate properly, and is there time to look at your notes for your presentation on the train?– someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.” A friendly looking guy with warm brown hair, and eyes, is staring at you, not unkindly. He pulls you aside, out of the crowd, and you’re thankful– but a little wary. 

“You look lost. Are you good?” The man has to lean in closer to you, and kind of yell-speak over the crowd, who are finally moving away to the above ground.

“Uh… No. I’ll be honest.” You cross your arms and huff, glad that someone could see that you needed help, and you feel a little happy that your saviour happened to be a smart, handsome guy who doesn’t look particularly judgemental, and you pull out your phone from your bag. “I’m trying to get to–”

“Oscorp?” He reads your phone and blinks, and then looks affronted that he spoke so soon. “Sorry. I just read your phone screen– I know that’s not proper etiquette. I’m going there too.”

“Uh-huh.” You fix your eyes on him, and Peter feels a funny twinge in his heart– something warm and soft as you size him up, making your own teasing assumptions of him. You half-smirk. “How do I know I can trust you? That you won’t just lead me to a random dungeon full of murdered women?”

You feel that you might’ve scared him off– you always come off a little too strong.

“Uhhhh, I was going to say I probably don’t look like a serial killer, but then again, you never know as a woman, right? Plus that’s some unnecessary bias and profiling on my part.” Peter fishes around in his pocket for his Oscorp ID, snorting at your joke, but also knowing that you’re not wrong to be concerned. “See? I’m Peter Parker. One of Oscorp’s biotech engineers.”

“Alliterative. Very cool.” You smile at him genuinely, glad to see that he is worth trusting, and he’s about to say something when the northbound train comes in.

“Hey, that’s us. Just two stops and then we’re at Oscorp.” Peter lets you walk ahead of him into the train, and you do so with some speed.

“Nervous?” He asks as the train starts going. He’s holding onto the loop for stability, while you lean against an arm rail. The train is kind of packed– and Peter is just a teeny bit happy for it, since it means he gets to stand a little close to you. He’s not trying to be a creep– you’re just cute.

“Very.” You shake out your hands, trying to chill out, and then reach inside your bag for your cue cards. “I’m starting out as a software developer– working on a genome editing program– and I’m doing a presentation on that today.”

“Oh, I’m in that seminar too. Although usually it’s just some dude presenting… not exactly someone like you.” Peter immediately facepalms, hiding in his hands for a moment before shaking his head, brown hair flopping about. “Sorry, I just mean… he’s not a cute girl, you know?”

Nice going, Parker. Peter groans and his hands remain on his face now, totally embarrassed by what he’s said.

“Oh–” You turn to him, but Peter interrupts you first.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean your looks are everything– I know how hard it is to be a woman in STEM, to get judged on things that have nothing to do with your credentials–” Peter swallows and sighs. “I’m not saying you were hired for your face– I’m sure you’re a very intelligent person.”

Peter feels your hand hesitantly touch his and move them, so he can get a look at your expression. You don’t look upset, just flattered, maybe with a hint of a laugh crossing your eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way. Good to know you’re not a typical STEM bro, though.” You read through your notes again, and Peter feels a bit of relief. “Thanks, by the way. You’re a cute guy too.”

You don’t know where exactly that came from, maybe an unexpected bout of courage bolstered by the adrenaline from your oncoming presentation, but it’s not like it’s false– this guy is very cute and you know you’re going to struggle if you have to work with him. You can’t quite look at Peter for the rest of the train ride, staring out the window. You catch a little grin on his face.

/

“So, genome editing, huh? That’s actually part of my work right now. Except more in the lab at the moment– working on synthesising frog DNA.” Peter shudders jokingly, and you laugh as you walk with him.

“Yeah, I’m basically the one who made the software program you’ll be using from now on. I just gotta make it easy for you guys to understand.” You inhale, and Peter can see that you’re still really nervous about your presentation. 

“Hey.” He gives you a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, in front of the building. “You got this.”

“Really?” You look up at him, bright eyes glassy with sudden fears. “But you don’t really know me, right? For all you know, I’m going to run out of the room with stage fright.”

“No way.” Peter grins, self assuredly. “You wouldn’t be talking to an almost stranger if that was true.”

“I mean… kind of true. I just don’t want to mess up.” You sigh and pinch your forehead, thinking it over.

“Okay, how about this?” Peter decides on something silly, but something that also allows him to shoot his shot. When else was a pretty software developer going to just fall into his lap like this?

He ignores that image. 

“If you don’t ace this presentation: who cares? People might be a little awkward about it, but they’re just people. It’s not a big deal.” Peter starts, and he sees you visibly brighten a little at that. “But if you do, you win something real special: a coffee date with Peter Parker.”

“Oh, I do?” You snort at his blatant flirting, but you can’t help but feel better with that potential date hanging over your shoulder. Peter Parker happens to be very sweet, at least so far, and you want to see just how far this could go. “Okay. I like the sound of that, but acing this presentation probably involves being there on time…”

You and Peter run through the lobby into the elevator– and you swallow your fears as you enter the boardroom, apologizing to the many developers and technicians about having to make them wait.

/

At the end of your very enlightening presentation– Peter knew there had to be no way he knew everything about this particular software since he had never tried it yet, and the fact that the original presenter seemed to be kind of vague on the details made it seem simpler than it was– you smile at him, and Peter grins back, knowing that he’s just won himself a date with you. 

[mun-2996]

No more secrets.

I loved kinktober but I got tired from the lack of emotion aside from lust 😭. So here's a little idea I couldn't get out of my head.

Warning! : Reader had a toxic relationship with their ex, meant to imply that the ex was controlling and they often put the reader down

gn but implied fem reader !

This is my first little experiment with writing so I'm really sorry if it's boring 😭

You couldn't hide everything from him.

He didn't notice it the first few months you were together but he was oh so definitely noticing it now.

Miguel knew your relationship with your past lover wasn't the best, but he never knew any details.

He tried asking a few times but all you did was brush it off and tell him "it just didn't work out" or that it wasn't a big deal. He didn't buy a word of it but you were clearly uncomfortable about the topic, so he decided to quit pushing it.

It seemed normal to him at first, how you'd always put him before yourself. How you'd always listen to his opinions and use them to make a decision.

But no, it was far more than that.

How you'd ask him if what you were wearing was okay. Not in the sense that you were asking if it looked good on you, but in the sense that you were asking if he was okay with it. Or how you'd ask permission to to even the smallest of things, like going out with friends, or a quick trip to the grocery store. Hell, even if he was at work you'd send him a text, asking if it was okay for you to do almost anything.

"Y'know ya don't have to ask permission for everything."

"Just thought you'd want to know."

He felt like it just got worse and worse sometimes. How you'd always ask what shows he wanted to watch, or what he wanted to do.

"Why don't you decide this time?"

"Can't decide."

Sometimes you'd skip meals just because he didn't want to eat, even if you were literally shaking from hunger.

"You sure you're not hungry?"

"Yeah. Had a late lunch."

That was a lie. And Miguel knew it.

There were times he'd try to talk to you about it, but you'd just say you were trying to diet. Which was also a lie, but you'd always look like you were on the verge of tears when he brought it up, so once again, he decided to drop the questions.

One day as the two of you went out shopping, he saw you eyeing a dress.

"You like it?"

"It's a little expensive..."

Miguel didn't give a damn about the price. He'd do anything to see you smile. He surprised you with the dress a week later and you were literally sobbing, thanking him for getting it for you. This wasn't a new experience, of course. Whenever he got you something remotely over your budget you'd start going into spirals for days where the only thing you could get out of your mouth were endless thank yous and I love yous. Now he DEFINITELY knew your ex did you wrong, but he didn't want to push it.

Then it really got him worrying.

Miguel's boss had just dropped a bunch of work on him, he called you, texted you, told you he'd be home late. He told you he loved you, told you to eat, told you not to wait up for him. Yet, when he came home at 4.30 AM in the morning, he saw you waiting up for him at the dining table, his favourite empanadas on the table, nice and warm for him.

"Baby, you have an early shift tomorrow you really shouldn-"

"But I wanted to."

Things only got worse from that point on. Miguel was forced to stay at work after hours. And the part of it he hated the most? You literally wouldn't eat or sleep without him.

"Baby, please. You're ruining yourself."

"I'm fine."

Then came the final straw for Miguel.

Your friend from work called, saying you'd collapsed at work.

Miguel took no hesitation in rushing over immediately. Picking you up and taking you to a clinic immediately.

Apparently you'd been running on too little sleep and too little food.

Miguel took you home, calling his boss and taking a whole week off from work just to take care of you.

He fed you, made sure you got enough sleep, in all honesty you looked horrible. Dark eyebags, bloodshot eyes, pale skin. Miguel hated seeing you this way.

Once you'd finally gained enough strength Miguel was NOT going to hold back on his questioning.

You told him everything, how your ex treated you. How controlling and suffocating the whole thing was.

Miguel held you tight to his chest as you vented to him, he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And you were. You were the most precious thing to him.

From then on Miguel made you promise to be a bit more selfish! No more putting him before you! Soon enough you felt like a different person, so much happier, so much more full of life. And you definitely got your sass back.

And even if you were being a little less selfless now, Miguel was still the center of your world. And you were his <33