#ESPECIALLY when it’s just a normal body!

[fucktoyfelix]

Choking Safety

I've been seeing some kind of scare-mongering type posts going around about choking during sex, so I wanted to address how to approach choking in a safe way. Choking is not a 0 risk activity, but it is also not so dangerous that you will just randomly die either. Anyone who does martial arts will confirm that thousands of teenagers are being successfully trained to choke each other safely (for self defense) every day! There's no reason you can't learn to do it too.

First you should be familiar with some basic anatomy of the neck and throat:

The carotid veins on both sides of the neck and the trachea/windpipe in the center are the most important things to be aware of. If you want to enjoy the psychological element of having someone's hands around your neck with relatively little risk, you can do "choking" play that avoids putting any pressure on those arteries or the trachea. As with all choking play, safety is highest when both parties are fully sober. I'm not actually sure if there are people out there who are into having the windpipe or trachea blocked. This tends to hurt like fuck and cause an autonomic choking response. You'll know if you went too far center because generally the bottom will be like "WTH". I don't know if there is a way to do this play safely or not as I don't have experience with it. It probably carries some risk of the trachea collapsing which would be a hospital trip for sure. Most choking play is done with the intention of cutting off the blood supply to the brain by applying pressure to both the left and right carotid arteries. This type of choking is not really "breath play" because of the way it works (though many people refer to it that way.) This creates a pleasant light headed feeling, but is also where the higher risk comes in. It often doesn't take long for a person to lose consciousness once these arteries are blocked, often less than 10 seconds. Sometimes getting completely choked out is the goal, sometimes not. Either way, the top has to pay very very careful attention to every aspect of their bottom's body language. Once you realize that a person has lost consciousness, the choking must stop immediately. Because of this: the most dangerous way to do this kind of play is alone. (hence all the auto-erotic asphyxiation deaths you hear about) It goes without saying that intoxication also dramatically increases the risks. It's not recommended to lose consciousness this way on a regular basis. It's just not good for your brain to repeatedly go through, especially in rapid succession. Generally, the more time spaced out between this type of play: the better. Though some people may have medical conditions that make the risk higher, as long as you stop choking when you reach the desired headspace, this play is approachable. Anyone who's REALLY into the idea but feels unsure or scared, I highly recommend taking a few martial arts classes. MMA guys do this to each other all the time! For sports! The key is just stopping at the right time. There are two main ways to go about blocking the carotid arteries. The main one used in martial arts and self defense is the rear naked choke.

This type of choke is incredible effective at choking someone out quickly and easily. The forearm and the bicep are squeezing each artery until the desired effect is achieved. The risk here is how quickly it works in combination with not being able to have a visual on your bottom's facial response. When someone loses consciousness they will go limp and begin twitching somewhat. This is normal, and you should stop immediately if you notice those signs. The more common method of choking play during sex is what looks more like typical choking. Facing your partner, using both hands.

You want to find the arteries with both hands, and use the meat at the base of your thumbs to apply gradually increasing pressure upwards towards your partner's head. You can keep the thumbs tucked to avoid accidental pressure on the windpipe. (Though this is not required so long as you remember not to apply pressure to the windpipe.) This type of play has a few safety benefits. First, you can see your partner's face so it's more obvious when you can see they've hit a headspace that is desirable. Additionally, it's just a little more difficult to find the arteries and push up on them correctly. If your goal is to get a little light headed without losing consciousness, this is more easily accomplished with this type of choke. However, losing consciousness is still a risk and both partners being fully alert will ensure the lowest risk environment. I know choking play is incredibly popular, even 'vanilla' people participate in this type of play on a regular basis without really knowing the technical details. Most of them don't get seriously hurt...but knowing what you're actually doing with risky play is a base component of risk aware consensual kink. Anyway I hope people find this helpful! Happy choking!!

[joelsgreys]

flutter

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[angelsrcute]

can you do the they catch you read something spicy with kaeya, xiao and alhaitham?

THEY CATCH YOU SEEING/READING SOMETHING SPICY. 𝜗𝜚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Kaeya, Xiao, Alhaitham + Fem n M(Xiao's part)!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, riding, spanking. ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ঌ 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚 ໒꒱ — 🪦

He'd tease you about it so much I bet. He was working on a paper and saw you were focused on your phone. He got up, curious on what you were reading with so much focus that you're not doing the papers that are to be submitted tomorrow. You let out a shriek after noticing him behind you,

“Woah..are you into those type of things? interesting, Y/N. Why not try it, hm? given you're so red about it.” He coos, climbing on the couch, taking the phone away, “Welp, there goes our paper. Do think of the excuse we're gonna give.”

꒰ঌ 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨 ໒꒱ — 🪦

He would be crazy blushing. He decided to go to your room to play games, but God damn, what the hell. You were watching hentai. And it wasn't some normal type too, fuck, how down bad were you?

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?? yikes..”

Well this guy is fucked because you're already leading him to the bed, ass presented to you as his face faces the laptop. Let's just say Xiao couldn't walk the next day nor could he go out, especially with those visible ass bite marks.

꒰ঌ 𝐀𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ໒꒱ — 🪦

He'd be amused, but jealous too. God, what's the good about that fictional character when he's right there? the audacity! So here you are now, on top of him as you ride him, whining at how big he is. He'd spank your ass if you got too loud, reminding you that the neighbours would complain. Your cunt sucking his dick in, head all warm and fuzzy, eyes hazy. You had forgotten how many times you came, body shaking at this point.

“Why? Thought you wanted to be fucked stupid, reading that ‘overstimulation’ or whatever fanfiction. So, now be a little grateful.”

[mattyriddlesbitch]

hello! I recently got into fanfics again and youre such a talented writer 💗 i was hoping to get theo or/and mattheo w a Hufflepuff reader whose been acting really bratty so they put her in her place 👁👁 i hope its not too much for u n if u dont feel like it thats totally fine too! 🤞

Yes! I didn't specify the house, but I hope this works!

Attitude

Theodore Nott X F!Reader

Warnings: Orgasm denial, unprotect sex, creampie, cussing.

18+ Minors DNI!

You normally were so sweet. Never really had much of an attitude, or at least, if you did, it never lasted long. However, today, you were moody and short with people, especially to your sweet boyfriend Theodore. He was trying to figure out what you needed all day. Getting you food and sweets, trying to give you affection, trying to give you space, trying to make you laugh. None of it was working. He was losing his patience.

It was just before dinner when you decided to say another snarky thing to him while you were sitting with the boys. He snapped and dragged you over to the bathroom. You thought you were gonna get a lecture about talking to him disrespectfully in front of his friends. Instead, he had you bent over the sink, panties around your ankles while he fucked you from behind.

“You need to drop the attitude, cara mia.” He said, watching your face in the mirror. “I’ve been very patient with you today.”

“Just shut up and fuck me.” You moaned, gripping onto the sink.

Wrong choice of words because he pulled out and turned you around, gripping your waist tightly. “Is that how you talk to me?” His voice was low and stern.

“Can you please just fuck me, Theo.” You whined.

“What did I say about the attitude?” He warned, tilting his head down slightly.

“Drop it.” You said, huffing.

“Exactly.” He said, his tone a little softer. “So, how about we try that again?”

You rolled your eyes and before you could say anything, he grabbed your face with one hand.

“Without the attitude.”

You sighed, letting your body relax. “Can you please fuck me, Theo?”

“Much better.” He said with a small smile.

He lifted you up onto the sink and pulled your panties off your ankles as he stepped between your legs. He teased your entrance before thrusting in, making you both moan.

“Give me attitude again and I’ll stop, you understand?” He asked, taking your chin in his fingers to tilt your head to look up at him.

“Yes.” You nodded.

He started thrusting, holding onto your hips tightly. You held onto the sink as you tried staying still from his thrusts, moaning his name.

“You gotta be quiet. People will hear.” He warned.

You nodded, biting down on your lip to try to quiet your moans.

He smiled at your attempt and moved one hand to rub at your clit, causing your moans to get louder as you threw your head back. You brought a hand to your mouth, covering it to muffle the moans.

“Just needed to get fucked to lose that attitude, huh?” He teased, leaning in to kiss your neck.

You were so close, your pussy clenching around him as you cried out into your hand.

Then he stopped, ripping a whine from your throat.

“What?” You asked, moving your hand from your mouth as you tried moving your hips to get some of that feeling back.

“You didn’t think I’d let you cum that easily with that attitude?” He said with a smile as he leaned back to look at you.

You groaned, leaning your head back. “Please, Theo. I was so close.”

“Next time, I won’t be so nice, principessa.” He said before started to thrust again, rubbing at your clit.

You had to cover your mouth again, moaning loudly, eyes rolling back. Your orgasm was building up again almost as fast as it had left. You came around him with a cry of his name into your hand, trembling as he came too, spilling his cum into you. He pulled out and pulled your 

panties back up onto you.

“Gotta keep that in. Think of that every time you wanna act up again, hm?” He smiled before helping you off the sink.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[pelova4president]

Focus II

Salma Paralluelo x Reader

focus I

summary~ You move on, she doesn’t. spoiler, you don’t really move on.

your new normal was everything but fulfilling. This pointlessness cycle of living was eating you alive.

Driving to training, kicking a ball for a few hours and eating with teammates that didn’t even trust you with the ball. You didn’t have a place in the starting line-up anymore and everyone ignored you. You were becoming invisible, a nobody.

Days were especially hard when you were free. You didn’t go outside and no one was contacting you. You felt loneliness on a whole new level. When you had broken up with Salma, there were still people around you but now you’d scared them off. They didn’t know what to do with you anymore.

Real Madrid has been your home for far too long, and somewhere you knew that. Deep down knew you needed an extreme change. But you held on to this ideal idea with a firm grip.

Real Madrid wasn’t your home anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time now. And the team made that clear when they sat you down.

“Look, we just think you need a different challenge, a fresh start.” Olga said, a warm smile on her lips. “It’ll be better for you.” Misa rubbed your back soothingly.

You rolled you eyes at that and scoffed. “It’ll be better for us all.” Misa corrected herself this time. You heard agreement across the room. Clearly they had wanted this for a while now.

You were already out of their lives in their heads, they just needed you completely gone. Out of sight out of mind.

So you moved, it wasn’t like you had a choice in this. Man City was running low on defenders and payed the biggest transfer fee. From your sunny Spain to the rainy Manchester weather.

Stepping out of that warm sticky plane you felt your warm sweat turning your heated body cold. Refreshing. You needed to see this new chapter as a new beginning, another chance.

When Salma heard you left Real she was puzzled. No way you would’ve left your dream club just like that, with no fight. And what she had expected was confirmed.

The striker heard Lucy and Ona talk about the transfer. “Why did she leave? She loved Real with her whole heart, that was her home.” Lucy asked.

Ona sighed, “We all know it wasn’t going her way there, she was stuck. I think she might’ve just left because there wasn’t anyone to keep her here anymore, in Spain.” she explained.

It was silent for a moment before Lucy spoke again. “She was head over heals for her, wasn’t she.”

“I know, she still is. I spoke to Olga earlier, she said that she just wasn’t functioning anymore. She had to leave Spain.” the Spaniard said quietly.

Salma wasn’t aware of this. Why would you break up with her if you still loved her?

She wanted to talk to you. Tell you that she had wanted to keep your relationship more private, out of the spotlights. That she wanted you just for herself. But then you cut her off, you told her it was over. That you were done.

The days in Manchester went by just the same. It was hard and tough. Atleast you knew your team back in Spain, you barely know anyone here.

Salma kept being on your mind, it was hard to forget her. How could anyone forget her. She had a sparkle you hadn’t seen in anyone before. She lit up any room when she walked in and brought out the best in you.

So instead of hurting and torturing yourself any more you focused. Your mind was set. Football was it. Manchester City had an amazing season and you were ready to destroy the Champions League. This was your year.

And you held yourself onto that. You got through the groupstages. Ajax, Wolfsburg and Juventus were all beaten.

The first leg of the Quarter-Finals away had ended up in a 1-2 for your team. And at home you won with 3-0 against Bayern.

This meant a Semi Final against the prize holders, FC Barcelona Femení.

And somehow Salma was still wondering through your mind. She was still there and you were giving up on forgetting her, so you ignored her. Every single sign of her.

Salma wasn’t though. She had you in her mind for the last few weeks. The striker wanted to know what was going on. Why did you leave her. What did you see. What did you think. She just wanted to know.

Salma knew you weren’t going to answer if she called, so she didn’t. She wanted you to see her, to hear her.

That’s how you found her, drenched infront of your doorstep. A cocky smirk finding it’s place on her face.

“Couldn’t you just move to a warmer country.” she laughed.

The smile you had on before you opened the door had dropped. “Or just don’t go to England.” you said, tone flat. When Salma didn’t respond you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Well, see you tomorrow i guess.” you told her before closing your door.

“-wait. Mi amor, wait.” Salma reacted.

“Don’t call me ‘mi amor’. I’m not your love, Ona is.” you said coldly.

Salma’s face fell. “Wait.. what- she isn’t.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that. “Ona isn’t my girlfriend. Where did you hear th- no..” your lovers face was puzzled, she was thinking. “Mi vida, is that why you broke this off. You thought i cheated on you?” she asked you with a broken voice.

“Salma, it was all over the news. You texted me, you wanted to break up.” you told her.

“Amor i didn’t want to break up. I just wanted you. I wanted to keep our relationship out of the spotlight, to keep it to ourselves. I just wanted you.” Her voice had completely broken down to a soft whisper. “I wanted you just to myself.” she stepped towards you.

“Salma, i- i don’t know.” you sighed.

“Please, i just want to see you.” Salma breathed.

You let her in. There wasn’t much you had to say to her. She said she didn’t cheat and you had to take her on her word.

Maybe it was the hope in you. Or the desperation. But you believed her. You wanted to believe her, so so badly.

And when the game came around the next day, Salma had already disappeared. The morning flew by and you were sat in the dressingroom. The music was playing through the room and there were players dancing, singing, braiding hair and drawing, whatever kept them cool.

You checked your shoes, like always. Put your hair in a bun, like normal. You walked through the tunnel, like you had done all of your games. You looked at your opponent, as usual. You were playing a game against Barcelona, against the best, against Salma, like you had done a million times.

The game was hard, honestly any game was at this level. But the feelings were your biggest concern. This didn’t end well last time.

You got your confidence back when you passed a ball to Casparij, who gave a deep one back. You made a run for goal and shot. The ball flew through the air, and even with the best efforts of Paños, it went in. In the corner of your eye you saw the ball crossing the white line.

Your teammates ran towards you and you were attacked from all sides. It was chaos and it was the most at home you’ve felt since you joined the blue club.

But the game wasn’t over, Barça wasn’t done.

Aitana made a dangerous tackle, passed to ball to Graham. Caroline was unstoppable, everyone knew it. When she dribbled past a City defender and made a cross it was over. The ball landed perfectly onto the right foot of Paralluelo and into Keating’s goal.

She celebrated like she had done many times before, but only on El Clásico’s. She kissed her wrist, for you.

“Nunca hemos terminado, mi vida.” Salma winked.

A/N my next fic will be domestic because i love little love families 🤭 who should i write for?

[vscabarca]

how about a gavi fic where they’ve been dating for a long time but long distance so the whole relationship is basically a secret and the public finds out and the internet sort of breaks and keeps commenting on how gavi is so different with her. if you do end up liking this and writing this please tag me <33

sant jordi - pablo gavi

summary: you visit your long-distance boyfriend Gavi and he accidentally hard launches your relationship.

genre: fluff!

a/n: @weekendlusting that request was so cute, thank you for your patience!🫶🏼 Also, i was listening to this song while writing, check it out for the full experience;)

———

Exhausted, you placed your school bag onto the floor of your hallway, walking towards the darkly lit living room. Just as you sat down, your phone buzzed and Pablo appeared on the screen.

With an immediate smile, you pressed the green button, accepting his call.

„Hello my love.“ He chimed, already laying in bed with his hood up.

„Hey amor.“ You tiredly answered, now also kicking your feet upon the couch.

„How was your day?“

„Exhausing but I wrote my last exam today.“ A feeling of relief washed over your body when you realized you‘d have now two weeks of pure relaxation, without having to do any schoolwork. But this feeling of relief was over quickly. Being in another country, several hours away from your boyfriend was hard. Especially if you had now so much freetime, you would love to spend it with Pablo.

„I‘m proud of you. Any plans for the upcoming days?“ Your boyfriend asked while playing with his hair.

„Not much. I wish I could spend them with you, I miss you.“ You pouted, feeling sad for only seeing him through the screen.

„Fly to Barcelona. I‘m having a few days off and I wanna see my gorgeous girl again.“

That’s how you ended up on a plane on a Tuesday, flying two hours to visit your long distance boyfriend for the next week.

The reunion was more than sweet. Pablo surprised you with flowers as he waited in his Audi for you. You two were over four months together, but still kept the relationship from the public. You wouldn’t actively try to keep it a secret, but also didn’t have the need to show everyone you two were together. After all, Pablo was Spain‘s teenage heartthrob and you were just a normal girl going to university.

He drove to his house first, giving you time to freshen up and put down your luggage. As it was the 23rd of April, also known as Diada de Sant Jordi, a catalan holiday, the city was decorated in red roses and Catalan flags.

As you two strolled aimlessly around a more quiet part of the city, Pablo never let go of your hand. To be not recognized too often, he wore his sunglasses and a cap, looking as handsome as ever.

The touch of his hand made you blush and the smile never left your face.

Suddenly, Pablo walked towards a little shop at the end of the street. It was so small you wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for your boyfriend. Outside, there was a shelf filled with second-hand books and roses. Like the tradition says, Pablo grabbed a book with the most romantic title and went inside to pay. He stood in front of you, his signature smile plastered across his face as he gave you the book and the red rose.

„Feliz dia de Sant Jordi mi amor.“ You couldn’t help but blush, your face turning red from the charm of your boyfriend.

„Muchas gracias Pablito.“ You mused and stepped closer to press a gentle but yet passionate kiss onto his lips.

After you two enjoyed a fun day in Barcelona, you headed back home to cook dinner and have a relaxing night together.

During cooking and occasionally dancing to the music playing in the background, your phone started buzzing almost every two seconds. At first you dismissed it, thinking it was your friend filling you in on one of her hookup stories, but even Pablo turned his head in curiosity after the buzzing wouldn’t stop several minutes later.

„Don’t you think it’s important? It won’t stop.“ He asked with furrowed eyebrows, just as confused as you were. Your phone screen was flooded with people you barely knew asking about Gavi. Gavi here Gavi there, things like „you’re really together?“ or „could you ask him to sign me something?.“

It was so confusing until one of your family members told you to check Pablo‘s instagram.

You opened the app, seeing your boyfriend posted a story. Clicking on it, you saw a picture of you, holding the rose and book in your hands. Written was next to it „Feliz dia de sant jordi mi amor💞“

The blood froze in your veins. Did Pablo realize he just hard launched you?

„PABLO! why did you post me on your instagram account?“ You asked, eyes wide while he just shrugged his shoulders.

„I always do that. I thought you were okay with me posting you on my private account. You know only my family and close friends follow that account.“

Now it dawned on you. Pablo mistakenly posted the picture on his official account, the one with sixteen million followers instead of his private one with only twenty-seven.

„Baby… Of course I‘m okay with that, but you posted it on your main one. The one with sixteen million followers.“ You started laughing in despair, finding the situation oddly funny, even though whole Spain now knew about your relationship with the famous footballer.

Pablo grew red, standing in front of you in horror as he took a look himself.

„Fuck… I‘m so sorry. I swear I didn’t want to post that on there.“

„It‘s fine. I bet there are picture of us anyway from today.“ You said and assured him it was alright. He embraced you in a hug, kissing your head softly.

„At least I don’t have to hide you anymore.“

———

footy.gossip: teenage heartthrob Pablo Gavi is not on the love market anymore ladies!💔

He was seen spending the romantic holiday Sant Jordi with a mysterious girl by his side, buying her roses and a book. What a true gentleman!

view all comments:

user1: she’s really living the Y/N lifestyle…

user2: Gavi is for sure such a sucker for his girlfriend

->user3: I mean you can even see the heart eyes behind the sunglasses😭

pedri: yn finally you came to visit… he wouldn’t shut his mouth

->pablogavi: how could I not

->user4: HE‘S NOT EVEN DENYING IT??

user5: not pedri exposing gavi😭😭

user6: WE WANT A GF REVEAL!!

user7: I just know she dresses him

->user8: fr, the change from skinny jeans to this is a blessing

->user9: pedri step up your game

user10: don’t know who the girl is but… mamá y papá.

author: wish that was you huh?🫵🏻🤨

———

pablogavi: whoops accidental hard launch… anyway yn te amoo🫶🏼

comments are turned off

[haveyouseenherlately]

pov: you play spin the bottle

nothing crazy. just friends kissing each other.

warning: 18+, weed, boys kissing, mentions of sex. follows no timeline.

masterlist here.

that evening, you found yourself at matty's flat with the boys and some other people you didn't quite know but had definitely seen before. perhaps at previous gatherings held by george or matty. who knows. they all just wanted to get high, so that's exactly what you did.

the thing is, you hadn't smoked much prior to that night. yes, you enjoyed cigarettes (after all, you spent many hours with the lot of them) but didn't have much experience with weed. yet, you didn't want to be left alone so you agreed to go along for the ride and suffer its consequences, good or bad.

ross offered you a drag and you took it. you inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs and cloud your mind. apparently you held it in for too long that you started having a coughing fit, a very stoned ross staring while trying not to chuckle. "are you alright?" he said. "yes" cough "yes" cough. eventually you went back to normal, catching your breath, slowly feeling the effects of the drug in your body. you almost forgot how nice it felt and wondered why you didn't do it more often.

the last time was with george, back when you were a "thing", if you could even call it that. it was a rainy night and you both sat by the open window of his bedroom, sharing a joint. you were apprehensive at first but it had been a stressful day of work, so you needed to take the edge off. the weed definitely helped, but it might've also been the sex that followed. george had been especially eager to make you moan as loud as you possibly could. you could almost feel his hands tightly grip your hips at the memory of it when suddenly someone called your name and broke your trance.

speak of the devil.

george's face came into focus and started dragging you by the arm, "c'mon, we're going to play spin the bottle." he turned around to look at you, a smirk forming on his lips as he pulled you to the circle the others had formed. you thought this game was only played by horny 14 year olds, but what the hell. what's the worst that could happen, right?

you dropped down to the floor, crossing your legs and sitting between adam and george. looking around, you noticed that everyone was on some level of a high. ross was chattier and more confident than usual, which you enjoyed as you've grown to like him quite a bit. he was always a sweet one. adam looked like he was about to fall asleep, but kept reassuring everyone that he was wide awake. sure. being high looked good on george and he knew it. the fucker was just so effortlessly cool, running his hand through his hair, joint between his fingers. you had to look away, it was just too much for you to handle at the moment. then there was matty, who couldn't stop giggling at something the girl besides him was saying. you noticed the same girl put her hand on his arm and it make you feel a strange sensation. you weren't sure why, though.

a loud clap echoed in the room. "alright, everyone, here we go. i'll be the brave one and start." george announced while he spun the empty bottle of wine on the floor. you watched as the bottle slowed down, lifting your head to take notice of the lucky chosen person, none other than ross macdonald. he shot george a look, let out a big sigh, then laughed when it finally hit him what he had to do. "fine!" he conceded, getting up and stumbling over to plant a kiss right on george's lips. he immediately cupped ross's face, returning the kiss with a satisfying smack, leaving you pretty certain they'd done this before. there were cheers and some claps, making george feel smug and ross blushing as he settled back down.

next up was matty. he spun the bottle in one swift movement, landing on... ross. "looks like luck's on your side today, macdonald." the taller boy rolled his eyes, took a quick drag of his joint, and rose up to walk towards matty. he knelt before his friend, and this time it was ross who gently cupped the curly boy's face, pulling him close until their lips met. you could tell that gesture made matty excited as his hands tangled in soft brown hair. there was no question that tongues were involved, and only breaking apart once ross pushed matty away, cheeks flushed as he headed back to his seat.

the game continued and to your dismay, george ended up kissing and feeling up the very pretty girl who sat next to matty. adam had to kiss ross (surprise), but this one was just a quick peck on the lips. then it was your turn.

"let's see who gets the pleasure of kissing her. i can assure you won't be disappointed," george joked and you stuck up two fingers right in front of his face. "it won't be you, if that's what you're hoping." you smirked and grabbed the bottle.

it wasn't until you had it in your hand that you realized how high you were, immediately making you nervous of fucking up the kiss. such a childish concern, but you couldn't help it in you state. you put the bottle on the floor, giving it a hasty spin and silently praying it wouldn't point to george. it wouldn't be the worst as you'd know what to expect but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction, especially not in front of others.

it felt like the bottle took ages to slow down and once it stopped, your ears started ringing, drowning everyone's cheers as you realized matty had to kiss you.

you slowly sat back down on your heels, tugging at the hem of your skirt and feeling your cheeks turn bright red. it wasn't until you lifted your gaze that you noticed matty had stood up and was walking in your direction, stopping to kneel right in front of you.

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you as if asking for permission to continue. you mindlessly bit your bottom lip and he took this as a his cue, leaning forward, pressing his mouth to yours.

maybe it was the weed or the adrenaline or both, but you were certain time stopped at that moment, which allowed you to melt on his lips. he tasted like honey and it was intoxicating. to your surprise, you kissed back eagerly, grabbing at the collar of his white shirt, bringing him closer to you.

again, it was probably the drugs, but you thought you heard him quietly moan when your thumb lightly touched the side of his neck.

you didn't want it to end, but you had to pull away as you had no idea how much time had passed. opening your eyes, you found matty's soft gaze fixed on yours. you smiled at each other and laughed nervously, yet no awkwardness was felt between the both of you.

suddenly you realized you still had a tight grip on his collar. "oh, um, sorry." you let go, trying to tidy down his now wrinkled shirt. "no worries," he murmured quietly, planting a quick peck on your cheek followed by another on your lips.

matty got up to go back to his spot, but not before he told george that he was right, you were indeed an excellent kisser. the tall boy just glared at matty and decided that the game was over because it was getting boring. you couldn't help but burst out laughing, prompting george to storm out of the room. oops.

"what's gotten into him now?" the blissfully oblivious, high adam asked. "i reckon matthew might have just kissed the girl he fancies," ross mentioned while getting up to fetch another joint. adam looked at you. oooh.

you chuckled and stood up, glancing over your shoulder to find deep caramel eyes gazing longingly in your direction once more.

[cumikering]

Alex Keller x plus-sized reader

.8k | fluff, body insecurities Even if you don’t love yourself, Alex will until you do

The door of your shared apartment slammed shut followed by a couple of thuds.

“Baby?” Alex called from the couch, looking over his shoulder.

When you rounded the corner with a frown, he rushed and wrapped an arm around you, noticing the wobble of your lower lip.

“Oh, sweetie, what is it? Did something happen?”

You’d jumped out of bed with a grin that morning at the thought of the shopping trip ahead. One of your girls had their birthday coming up and you were getting matching dresses.

“No… It’s just…” You sighed, fighting the brimming tears. “I couldn’t find anything.” The first tear fell anyway, which you wiped away immediately.

He led you to the couch.

“Each time they found something cute, I had to be the bearer of bad news and tell them they didn’t have it in my size, or that it looked horrible on me. We went through the whole mall, and I had to look at all these cute dresses that I’d never get to wear because nothing would fit right. I feel so left out.” You sniffled. “I… I was feeling good. Got to have a nice brunch and boba after, but now I just feel guilty about ruining the day! We spent the whole day out and we didn’t even get anything.”

“You didn’t ruin the day, sweetheart.” He gripped your hands. “You just haven’t found the perfect dress yet. It takes time, doesn’t it?”

“I couldn’t even find anything remotely flattering. How am I going to find the perfect one? I don’t… even want to go anymore.”

You still wouldn’t meet his eyes when he wiped your tears away. “How about this, you get a dress you like, and we’ll get it tailored? Then you’ll get to showcase all those gorgeous curves I love so much.”

“But… It’s not supposed to be tailored. It’s supposed to look good right away.”

“Clothes off the rack don’t usually fit everyone perfectly. My dress uniforms were tailored too.” He tilted your face towards him. “We’re living, breathing things. We don’t all look alike and that’s normal.”

After a long silence, you muttered, “Why are you with me, Alex?”

“Because there’s no one I want more than I want you, no one with a sweeter smile or a lovelier voice.” He kissed your knuckles. “Some days I wake up and I wonder what you are doing with me. You should be with someone who doesn’t have to leave you all alone for weeks, make you worry sick if he’s coming home. Someone who doesn’t have so many ugly scars.”

“Alex…”

“It’s the same reason you’re with me, isn’t it? It’s never about what I see, always about how you make me feel.” He kissed your forehead. “I don’t see these flaws you talk about, because to me they’re not. I wish you could see yourself how I see you, just 5 minutes,” he said, caressing your cheek.

“Your smile is what keeps me going in the field when things go sideways. This pretty face is my absolute favourite thing to come home to.” His hands slid down your arms. “Because there’s nowhere safer than your arms when you hold me tight, or when you stroke my hair with your gentle hands.”

He squeezed your waist. “This is a wonderful reminder that I keep you happy. What else am I supposed to grab when we spoon?” His gaze trailed further down. “I love when you jump into my arms, especially when those thighs wrap around me, or when you get on your tippy toes on to kiss me.” He gave you a once over before bringing your hand to his lips again. “Fuck, there’s nothing I don’t love about you. I can’t ask for anything more.”

Your lips wobbled again, but for a different reason now.

He pulled you to his chest, his strong arms around you as he kissed the side of your face repeatedly. “I know it’s hard sometimes. But I’m going nowhere, and I’ll love you even more the days you can’t.”

He brushed the new tears off your face with his thumb and peppered more kisses on your cheek as he held you.

“We have the whole day to shop tomorrow. We can go anywhere you want, maybe the matcha cafe you like too after?"

“You don’t mind?”

He shook his head, giving you one of his gorgeous smiles. “The best things take time, like finding you. But had I known it’s you, I’d have waited longer.”

Happy birthday to my C aka my April sis aka the one Alex Keller would literally be on his knees for aka the story itself @shadofireshinobi. Here’s to many more times I’m gonna slide into your DMs and rizz the hell out of you <3

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Nine)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Fluff + Angst. Breeding kink, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, Tongue Play, Creampie, Strong Aftercare.

‘Arañita… I’m, not sure I’m ready for this.’

Mig’s soft voice caught you off guard. You were busy getting dressed in the corner of the den, shifting out of your spider suit into something more casual, and you hadn’t noticed Mig had started anxiously fidgeting in his own unique way.

He’d used his webs to hang his body upside-down from the ceiling, and he was now swinging back and forth with his head barely an inch away from the floor, trying to imitate a spider hanging in mid-air.

He was slowly spinning in a circle, his arms folded and his eyes closed, his brow knotted in thought.

You couldn’t help it; the sight of him made you melt, and a soft giggle spluttered from your lips. You hid it with your hand but Mig was quick to notice.

‘Mm?’ he grunted, carefully opening one big, red eye. ‘Arañita, did you hear me?’

‘Mhm. I sure did’ you said, pushing down your laughter as you approached. You sank down to your knees and shifted his head so that it was laying in your lap, allowing you to comb his hair through with your fingers. He looked nervous at first, his big red eyes peering up at you in this odd position, but the longer you preened him the softer he became.

Eventually, his eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting to reveal his teensy little fangs peeking out. You smiled.

‘I refuse to believe hanging like that is comfortable’ you whispered gently against his forehead. Miguel grumbled.

‘It is not, but- my instincts desire me to try it. It is… comforting, if not comfortable.’

‘You’re really freaking out that badly?’

As you stroked his head back and forth Miguel nodded again, his red eyes slowly blinking open to peer up at you above him.

‘Yes, mi tesoro. I am… Quite, freaked out, as you say.’

You sighed and slowly nodded back. ‘Yeah… Yeah, me too, honestly.’

You didn’t blame Mig for being nervous. It wasn’t objectively meant to be that scary, but oh god it was. Gabriel had asked you, Mig, and Miguel to try and visit his baby daughter Micaela now that they’d been reunited. Since the little girl was sick and Mig was, well, Mig, a giant 9ft spider hybrid, they’d all agreed it would be easier to keep her in her own universe, and have you, Mig and Miguel visit via a portal.

They’d calibrated the coordinates so that they could drop in onto the roof of the hospital she was being kept at, avoiding any onlookers or hospital staff, and Gabriel would meet them there to just hang out and get to know the little girl they were now working to save.

It was a nice idea, and nobody could say no to Gabriel’s big puppy-dog eyes, but it was also taking a toll on Mig.

He had only just started interacting with people again, and outside you and Miguel his socialization was still pretty limited. The spider society were more accepting than most, and even there he was largely relegated to looks of fear and morbid curiosity. He wasn’t a real ‘person’ to many of them.

Any but you, that is, and that meant the idea of trying to interact with a baby was terrifying, especially when he felt like it needed to go right. This was his niece after all.

‘You got this, Miggy’ you whispered, sensing his silence. Mig had started disassociating and his eyes were growing dilated, but at the sound of your voice he blinked them back to normal.

You felt his soft, thick hair nestling against your thighs as he craned his neck to see you better. When you brushed his cheek with your fingers, he purred.

‘Mm… I hope you are right, arañita’ he murmured softly. ‘I just- if I upset my brothers offspring—’

‘Do you have to say offspring, sweetheart?’ you giggled, lightly cutting him off. Mig purred a little louder and shifted on your lap.

‘What, am I not supposed to say that?’

‘You say baby, sweetheart. Just say baby’ you insisted, still giggling a little from how sweet that enormous beast looked on your lap.

He tilted his head and grunted. ‘I… I will, try, I suppose, if you believe it may offend my brother otherwise.’

‘Not offend, just… might confuse him, is all. Don’t worry.’

You took another quiet moment to comb out his hair while he closed his eyes and relished the touch. It was a peaceful moment, in the warmth of your den.

‘… I, um…’

You paused, unsure of what to say. Neither you nor Mig had acknowledged your awkward love confession since it happened, not really, beyond agreeing it just wasn’t the right time to acknowledge it. This was fine, but you kept feeling the urge to say you loved him now that it’d been said once, and without that discussion you weren’t sure if you could say it or not.

Mig opened his eyes and peered up at you again. You didn’t need words at this point. Mig read your thoughts with ease.

‘… Mi tesoro’ he whispered smoothly, reaching one large, calloused hand up to cup your cheek. ‘Tú eres mi corazón, arañita. No lo dudes.’

You smiled a little wider as your heart swelled. ‘Mi corazón’ you whispered back.

You leaned down to kiss him, his claws drawing your face towards his own, when—

‘EY! Are you home?’

You both jumped in surprise at the sound of Miguel’s voice drifting in from the top of your nest. You reluctantly let Mig go and helped him stumble onto his eight fluffy legs, before rushing to the entrance to greet your slightly unexpected friend.

‘Miguel! Hey, down here!’

He was standing at the entrance to the nest with folded arms. His eyes kept roaming around the forest, almost as if he were nervous, but the moment he saw you he stopped and fixated. His face turned quiet, polite, verging on perhaps affectionate, as he curled his lip and helped pull you out of the hole.

‘I was worried you’d be late’ he grunted, swiftly putting you to the side before reaching to help Mig. The great spider took his hand, but, it was clear he didn’t need the help, and assumed instead that Miguel simply wanted to hold hands.

 Miguel was left slightly flustered with his comparatively smaller hand in Mig’s as his enormous variant beamed with joy, and you struggled not to break down laughing.

‘Can- can we just, go, please?’ Miguel hissed, far too awkward to break the contact. You nodded.

‘Yeah, uh- don’t worry I can set up the portal’ you said, refusing to give Miguel any excuse to let go. He was left with a sour, confused expression as Mig held him tight, unaware that this wasn’t what he’d wanted.

You input the exact coordinates as given and created a portal, and without further delay, all three of you stepped inside. Miguel used this as his excuse to break Mig’s grip.

You all stepped through with relative ease, out of the cool, misty mountain woods and out into the head of the hospital roof, with the tarmac wavering ever so slightly with heat lines beneath the clear blue sky.

You could hear traffic, distant cries and calls, and could smell gas and street food. 

It smelled like the city all right. You’d been in Miguel’s home so long you’d almost forgotten it.

‘Ah- Dios mio, Aquí huele fatal eh?’ Mig grunted as he stepped through. His higher senses were delicate from a decade of living in the woods, and you saw him do a little shudder with his abdomen as the smell assaulted him.

Miguel grunted, but quickly took a sympathetic stance with the giant shuddering spider. ‘te acostumbrarás’ he muttered back.

‘Ay, eso espero’ Mig replied.

‘HERMOSO! You made it!’

The three of you jumped as you saw the hospital door swing open, revealing the glowing, grinning face of Gabriel as he stormed up towards you, his arms filled with a soft little bundle of blankets.

You immediately felt the tension rise. Oh boy, here we go.

‘Hermosito’ Miguel and Mig said in unison. They shot each other a glance while Gabriel just chuckled.

‘Ey, I’m glad you found your way here quickly. The nurses are on break so I managed to break ‘er out pretty easily, and they shouldn’t be up here at any point’ Gabriel said as he approached. ‘So, did you guys get here okay?’

‘Yes, we- literally just portalled in. It took less than a second’ Miguel replied, as he noticed that Mig was too spellbound by the bundle to say a thing.

‘Oh, right! The portals. I don’t know how you guys

‘So, how’s the uh- the work been going?’ Gabriel asked as he shifted the bundle. You could see Mig craning to try and see the baby while doing a poor job of looking like he wasn’t, while Miguel was overtly trying to avoid looking at it. You kept your giggles to yourself. Sweet boys, you thought. Your sweet, dumb boys.

‘It has been, ah—’

‘Satisfactory’ Mig said, cutting Miguel off. ‘Yes, we’ve drafted some plans to approach the issue, based on the uh- blood samples you sent us. It is, quite nasty, but—’

‘We can do it’ Miguel said, butting in with his calm, cool confidence. Gabriel beamed.

‘Ah, wonderful! Well, how about- you guys meet your little patient then’ he said, and without further ado, he began to peel back the blankets while shielding her from the sun. You could almost feel the boys tensing up with a wild mixture of emotions. Fear, apprehension, excitement, a giddy well of feelings for this one tiny thing.

The blanket peeled back, bit by bit, and there she was.

Mig’s eyes almost dilated at the sight.

She was so small, even by baby standards. Micaela was just a tiny little thing, with delicate little fingers and big brown eyes darting about her new surroundings, quivering slightly in her covers. She had the same dark hair as Gabriel, with slightly darker skin, looking like a real mini O’Hara in the making.

You weren’t sure what to do but ‘aw’, until you were abruptly distracted by an unusual sound.  

You glanced up and noticed that Mig seemed to be… purring? He was vibrating softly, his back legs tapping and rustling. It was something you’d never seen him do before. You’d seen him purr, sure, but this was new. It was like a cat admiring its kittens.

‘You want to hold her, hermoso?’ Gabriel said cheerily as he approached. Gabriel looked happy about the idea, but as he got closer Mig instinctively took a step back, his hands raised high.

‘N-No, no, Gabriel I- I’m too…’ Mig stammered to a halt. His wide eyes were fixed on that baby.

‘Hey, Miggy, it’s okay’ you whispered. You put a hand on his side and held him tight. ‘It’s—’

‘Ay Dios mio- let me.’

You were suddenly but gently pushed aside as Miguel moved forward, taking control as always. He stepped up and grabbed Mig’s hands, dragging him down until his spider legs buckled and folded, and with a stiff lip, he began positioning him.

‘You put your hand- like this, remember to support the head and neck, keep her close to your torso, and be careful of wriggling.’

He listed everything off with unnerving precision as he forced Mig into the right stance, but when he turned to help transfer the girl from Gabriel’s hands, he faltered. His stony, calm expression melted, his eyes widening and wavering a little in the bright sun.

The little girl cooed and waved her hands as she fixated on Miguel, but the moment Gabriel moved her closer to Mig, she began squirming in fear. She didn’t cry but she did let out a few dangerous warbles, like she was about to, and Gabriel was forced to reluctantly pull her back.

‘Ah! Sorry, it- I guess she’s, not used to the uh… size, and the… spideryness’ Gabriel murmured.

You saw Mig falter, his body curling in on itself. He stopped his soft purring and glanced down at his claws, his furry abdomen, his body in comparison to everyone else’s. You instinctively pressed in at his side and tried to comfort him by hugging his enormous abdomen.

‘Ah… yes. I, forgot, for a moment’ Mig murmured. In truth, part of him had expected the baby to have the same instinctive familial reaction he’d had.

As if trying to avoid it getting more awkward, Gabriel instead turned to Miguel. ‘Hey! It’s fine, uh- we’ll try again in a minute. Miguel! You try holding her for a bit instead. Maybe it’ll help.’

You could see it from your vantage point against Mig’s side. You saw Miguel’s lip tremble ever so slightly, the way his stiff shoulders deflated. You saw the flash of humanity in his eyes, and so did Gabriel. He didn’t say a thing.

Whether he said anything or not, it didn’t matter. As a dad himself now, and especially as a dad with a child in a precarious situation, he knew the eyes Miguel was making.

‘Hermoso’ he whispered in a gentler tone, gently lifting Micaela to be taken. Miguel swallowed so hard his Adam's apple jolted, but eventually he caved, and slowly lifted the girl into his arms.

The way he held her betrayed an instinctive understanding of childcare. His careful, perfectly planned cupping, the way he stabilized the head and her bottom while keeping her close to his chest. He rocked her with expert timing, and soon she was cooing sleepily in his arms.

You weren’t sure if anyone else saw it, but you saw something strange in his eyes at that moment. Some deep, unfathomable pit of longing, a rush of melancholic joy.

‘Arrorró mi niña’ he whispered against her forehead, forgetting that anyone else was even there. You noticed Gabriel smiling sadly.

‘Arrorró mi niña, arrorró mi sol… arrorró pedazo, de mi corazón.’

Miguel whispered it all in the hopes that no one else would hear, but you could see his lips moving slowly as he rocked the frail baby girl in his arms.

You continued lightly stroking Mig’s side, and bit by bit he calmed down. He might not be able to hold her, but right now… well, this was okay. This was acceptable. He watched Miguel, a smaller carbon copy of himself, and pretended it was him holding the infant instead.

Miguel clung to Micaela for a few minutes, silently whispering and shushing as she cooed and squirmed. She got drool all over his suit, but he didn’t care one bit. Beneath the sun, holding that baby who looked at least a little like someone who he once knew and loved with all his heart, he felt the most overwhelming sense of peace.

It hurt, but… it hurt good.

He gave himself another peaceful minute before realizing he needed to let go, or he might never be able to find the strength to give her up.

‘Oye! You, your turn’ Miguel grunted as he turned towards you. You blanked as you saw his claw pointing in your direction.

‘Wha- no! No, no, don’t be silly, this is your guy’s thing, it’s not- AH!’

Miguel dragged you up and threw you under his arm like luggage, something that a man of his size could just do, and despite your grumbling he carried you over and sat you down on the floor beside Mig’s little forelegs.

‘This is a group thing, you participate in group things’ Miguel said sternly.

With utmost care, Miguel lifted the little baby Micaela up and gently lowered her down into your own stiff and waiting arms. You saw him stiffen his lip as he gently nudged your fingers into the right position, wordlessly moving your body like a mannequin, until at last she was laid down in your arms to rest.

You remained stiff, terrified of doing even the most minor thing wrong.

Micaela stared back with those wide, gormless eyes, her fist in her mouth and her other hand lightly tucked to her chest. You blanked fully.

‘Ah… aha, uh… hi?’ you murmured to the baby, as if she’d somehow respond. Miguel pinched his brow. ‘Dios mío, este idiota…’

Micaela was silent for another few seconds before suddenly squealing. She babbled and began pawing at you, her big eyes roaming over your face with a deep, innocent curiosity.

Bit by bit, you relaxed.

‘She, ah… she is kinda cute, huh?’ you chuckled.

‘Did you, just realize that?’ Miguel asked in that quietly sarcastic tone of his. He dropped down to a squat so he could watch more closely with Gabriel at his side, and despite being a little grumpy earlier he managed to shoot you a small smile.

‘I mean… I guess, yeah’ you replied softly, not wanting to disturb her as she tugged at your suit.

‘Word of advice, ah- babies are always cute, whether you think so or not. Especially when their parent is beside you’ Miguel whispered back. You couldn’t hide your giggle, nor the way your eyes began to light up as Miguel gently mouthed your suit, settling right into your stiff arms.

‘Yeah… she’s cute’ you whispered. ‘She’s real cute.’

Micaela then decided to reach up and slap your face, causing you to splutter.

‘BLAGH- HEY—’

The little girl squealed with excitement and began slapping your face more, grabbing at your nose and patting your lips, nearly poking your eye out as she babbled curiously. You just let it happen, all while giggling and spluttering your words.

‘Oh- shes- great, yep- blegh- she’s a real- character-ACK—’

Miguel hid his mouth as he smiled while Gabriel laughed out loud.

In that quiet moment, you didn’t see Mig watching you like a hawk, with those wide, dilated red eyes almost unblinking in their fixation.

He watched the smile on your face, the way you shrugged awkwardly and tried your best to keep Micaela safe and sturdy, the way you let her jab her fingers in your face and splutter with muted giggles.

He watched, quiet and contemplative.

‘Are we going to talk about what you said?’

Ay, mi amor, there is nothing to be said about it. I don’t need to say it. I know it to be true, Mig thought to himself. He felt a load on his heart slowly lighten.

He’d been so afraid of loss, but seeing this… Seeing you, cradling his niece, giggling with his brother, and shrugging and joking and showing the same tenderness you’d always shown…

I don’t think you’re scary.

Mig flashed back to the way you’d looked at him the first day you met. That sweet, awkward but polite smile, slowly fading into one of genuine compassion.

And then, for a moment, he remembered his life for the past decade or more. Sitting alone in the woods, waiting, praying, sadly strumming his webs alone as he begged for anyone to come, anyone to even see him, let alone love him.

It was a cold memory. A pit, a void, he thought he’d never escape.

But he had.

He sat here now, beneath the sun on the hospital roof, with his family. With his niece, his brother, his strange bitter variant, and… you. You.

The reason he was here at all. Sitting cross-legged on the hot tarmac, nestled in the shade of his gargantuan shadow, holding that baby in your arms as she gurgled and drooled on your suit, looking as patient as possible.

That baby… what if… you could hold his baby like that too…

He lulled as he felt the warm sun heating the dark fur on his abdomen, and he began to subtly vibrate. It started in his front paws and went all the way back to his little stubby end, just a subtle shake, as he felt truly, utterly content for the first time.

‘Oh, hey! Look who’s after her tío!’

Mig blinked and glanced over to see that Micaela was finally looking up at him from within your grip, her fist in her mouth as she gurgled. She wasn’t screaming or shying away in fear anymore. No, now she looked curious.

‘Ey, Miguelito! Try holding her’ Gabriel whispered with a hand cupping his mouth.

Mig went stiff, but you slowly rose up to your feet with Micaela in your hands and Miguel helping you balance by steadying your arms. You walked right up to Mig while bouncing Micaela.

‘Here, Miggy. Look, she wants to say hi.’

Mig stiffened further, but not out of fear. He froze because, for just a moment, he saw what could almost be called a vision.

He saw it. You, walking up to him, holding your child, his beautiful little offspring that you made with him, holding it up for him to take. Your child. His child. With your delicate touch and patient smile, and those beautiful dimples on your cheeks, cradling the babe you both loved so dearly.

In a world where nothing mattered but you, and him. A sweet, domestic picture, where you sat outside your nest, your home, and rocked his baby beside him.

In a near daze he held out his hands, and he allowed you to carefully put Micaela into them. You kept your hands over his as he cupped her head, neck, and bottom, pulling her right up to his enormous, muscled chest.

She looked so, so tiny against him, like a mouse, but he cupped her with a care that seemed almost impossible for someone of his size. Micaela lay and gurgled and cooed between the two of you, her little legs and fists flailing. When you looked up at Mig there were barely a few inches between your face and his.

‘Hey… Look, she likes you’ you whispered, smiling up at Mig’s dumbstruck face. He didn’t respond. He just stared at you, his red eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, as he held his family. As he held you. As he watched you giggle and stroke her little tufty hair, as he watched your smile and the creases by your eyes.

‘… Yes. Yes, she- she seems less, afraid’ Mig murmured. He reluctantly looked away from you just to focus briefly on his darling little niece. He let his thumb stroke her side, her fists, admiring her tiny fingers and tiny toes in her little one-piece.

His breath became a little shaky as he really, truly took in what was happening right now.

‘She… yes, she…’

He stumbled on his words as Micaela reached up and put her fist on his cheek. He went still. He went silent.

You watched Mig’s eyes dilate like a cat, widening until it looked near painful. His lips moved but no sound came out. He just stared, feeling those tiny fingers on his rough skin, that sweet little face grumbling and drooling in his grip.

‘Ah…. A-ah…’

‘Bah!’

Micaela squirmed and squealed, gently slapping his face. Mig looked like he might cry. ‘Ah… m-mi sobrinita’ he choked, ‘No dejaré que nada te lastime. Prometo… prometo.’

Micaela drooled all over his finger, making a mess as she slapped him and pawed at his giant fingers, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. You watched him as his lips turned into a smile, as he relished this moment, the moment he never thought he’d feel.

He’d experienced true joy, and he never wanted to go back again.

Mig was quiet for the rest of the session. He was quiet as Micaela eventually started to bawl her little eyes out, and Gabriel said she needed to be taken back to her room. He was quiet as you said goodbye to Gabriel, as Miguel offered a parting grumble, and he was quiet even as you opened your own portal back to your home in the woods.

You stepped through the portal back to the forest clearing with Mig at your back, and it was only then that you noticed he’d been especially quiet.

‘You okay, Miggy?’

Mig jumped a little and glanced down. He saw your face was concerned and he forced a smile. ‘Ah- yes, mi a- mi tesoro. I’m well’ he murmured.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes. Yes… I’m, very good, in fact’ he whispered calmly, and he meant it. You smiled and continued walking.

‘Okay, good. Good. I’m tryna trust you here! I’m putting my faith in you telling the truth. So, what did you think? She’s sweet right?’

Mig slowly nodded, but he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting further. I want you. I want you, arañita. I love you.

‘Ah, yes, she- she was, very sweet. Such an, optimistic babe, given her circumstances’ Mig replied quietly.

‘I know! I was so surprised. I mean she had to leave pretty quickly, and Gabriel said we caught her on a good day, but…’

As you continued rambling on about the day on the trek towards the nest, Mig found himself losing focus again. He just couldn’t stop the growing urge in his body.

It wasn’t the rut. It wasn’t that simple, not at all. It was something… more. It was instinct and emotion, the powerful conjoined feeling of love and primal desire. It was love, it was lust, it was a need. It was itching for you. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Eventually, you noticed his silence again, and you paused to try and speak to him.

‘Mig, are you—’

You squeaked in shock as something hard hit your back.

You were winded as you hit the bark of a tree, the same tree against which Mig had taken you the first time. It took you a second or two to realize what was happening.

Mig had pinned you to the tree.

You felt hot breath on your neck, breath that moved down your nape to your forehead as his enormous body arched. You could feel the immense weight, the unfathomable strength. It was like being pinned by a car. You felt utterly powerless.

‘Mig?’

‘Shh.’

You felt that strange, alien abdomen shaking as he moved closer, rustling like a rattlesnake. You heard his furry legs shifting, pattering, tapping a rhythm on the ground as he kept you steady. Your gut instinctively tightened.

Oh, god, how you loved that sound.

‘Mig? Are you—’

‘Shh…’

‘Is- a-are you rutting—’

‘No.’

Mig held you close as he breathed in your scent, huffing the top of your forehead like he wanted to saturate his lungs with it. He was panting softly, his rough lips tasting your skin as he drifted down your face from above.

‘Mine…’

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

‘Mine.’

You felt his rough claws digging in, tearing your clothes into little shreds. He ripped them aside piece by piece, and with each bit that came loose, he squeezed, as if he wanted to imprint his hand into every inch of flesh you had to offer.

The chill air nipped at your skin as you were drawn to nakedness against the tree, and all you could do was whine and pant.

‘Miggy, ah—’

‘Mine.’

He whispered it with absolute resolve, right as he tore the final bit of clothing aside. He then squeezed out some of his silky thread, using it to stick you in place so his hand could grasp your jaw in its grip, forcing you to face him.

His eyes were burning, but he didn’t smell like rut. This was new.

‘Miggy?’ you whispered, gently stroking his face. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch.

‘I… I-I want, that’ he whispered, now surer than ever of what he needed most.

‘Want, w-what, Mig?’

‘That. I want… that’ he repeated, his soft eyes closing as he nestled into your neck. ‘What we just saw. What Gabriel has. I want… I want you. I want YOU, arañita.’

Your ribs heaved as he held you close to his body, his sweaty abs slowly moving up and down against your belly as he gripped you.

‘I… I want you too, Mig, I-'

‘No. Listen.’

You went silent as his claws gripped a little harder. You heard him growling, a low, primal gurgle in the back of his throat.

‘That little girl is sick. Their life may end in tragedy’ Mig whispered in his usual blunt fashion, a sentiment that quickly made you tense.

‘M-Miggy this isn’t very, romantic, ah—’

‘Listen to me’ he said, his voice now firm as he squeezed you tighter. You squeaked and went silent.

‘… It may end in tragedy. But it was worth it. Looking at that little girl, my blood, my brother’s offspring, I… I understood. I am so afraid of loss, that I feel no joy could ever be worth the price. But I was wrong.’

His claws dug in tight as he lifted you up the tree, his eyes fixed on your face as he embraced your naked body against his own. The little shiver in his spine went all the way down to his abdomen, and he trembled with yearning, his fur bristling in the sweet autumn chill. You felt his sharp claws gently stroking you, his thumb going up and down your waist.

‘I was wrong’ he repeated in a breathy, husky voice, right against your lips. ‘You, are worth it. No matter what comes, no matter what happens in the end, you are worth it. I want that future with you.’

He squeezed so hard his claws gently pierced your side, his breath coming out in a frantic near sob as his emotion took over. He was filled with a fever, his eyes tinged pink beneath the red hues.

‘I want that world with you. That sweet, simple domesticity. To sit beneath the sun.’

As he held you taut to the tree trunk he began unintentionally oozing web from his forelegs, his pedipalps sticking you to place. You were stuck between his huge, muscled form, his sweaty skin sticking to your own, and the hard tree at your back.

‘Miggy’ you whimpered. Your eyes rolled as he pushed closer, whispering those sweet words as he stuck you to him, possessively trapping you in his web.

‘I want you’ he groaned, ‘and I don’t care if we’re a universe apart. I’ll do anything to right that wrong. ANYTHING. Because you were made for me.’

‘Miggy…’

Your eyelids drooped as he moved closer. You felt the deeply arousing sensation of his slit separating, as his erect cock pushed out and sprung to its fullest length, gently twitching between your thighs. You willingly parted them.

‘I... I want you too, Miggy’ you whined.

You felt him pushing in as he whispered, his soft little abdomen arching and bucking to push his thick, throbbing erection between your plush thighs, nudging at your entrance. You saw his eyes get darker as he pumped that warm, velvety round tip inside, feeling the hot, heavy warmth surrounding him, feeling your body give way to his persistence.

‘I... I want to us. A unit. A-A family…’

He pushed deeper, feeling the soft muscle split, feeling your breath catch as he entered. His clawed fingers wound themselves into your hair as he gasped. He held you as close as he could while his spider body bristled and vibrated, slowly but surely committing to the mating.

‘Quiero hacerte mia, arañita, mi arañita, y quiero que me hagas tuyo’ he softly whispered right into your ear, his breath stirring the nerves there until your spine arched.

You cried out without thinking, unable to resist any longer.

‘F-Fucckkk- I love you, Mig, I-I love you—’

He pushed in until he could fit no more, leaving you bound and stuffed with his thick phallus. The sensation forced you to cry out those last words.

He paused there, strangely, pulling back to let his eyes roam. You couldn’t help but flush as he gently shifted his abdomen, watching the base of his cock appear and then disappear back inside you.

You oomphed at the pressure. No matter how often you did this, it was still a shock.

He had a look of deep, absolute satisfaction on his face. When he moved it again, just by an inch, admiring the bulge in your belly, he looked… affectionate.

‘Mmm…’

He looked back up, his claws stroking and admiring every inch of you. He gently brushed over your folds, your clit, admiring the way you squeaked. He loved that sound. He stroked up over your hips, feeling the fat and muscles between his fingers. He loved that feeling. He brushed up your waist, your chest, to your face, until your glazed-over eyes met his.

‘I love you too, mi arañita’ he whispered with utmost affection.

His eyes softened as he held your gaze. He wanted you to look at him, that monstrous mutant, the man who valued you above all else, as he began this ritual all over again.

‘I will have you now, mi amor’ he purred softly, his shoulder muscles rippling as he rolled them. ‘And I will have you, forever.’

With a soft growl, he started to slowly move in and out. You couldn’t stop the moan that flew from your lips, echoing through the open forest. Mig didn’t seem to care.

The squelch was unbearably lewd this time, the thick, wet sound of his plush cock squishing up to kiss your cervix and then back down again.

You were used to him going into a kind of haze, where he’d thrust and pump himself in an almost animalistic sense and then shower you with affection, but this was different.

He was so attentive this time. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and your lips, smothering you in gentle pecks and breathy little kisses, and his hands squeezed and soothed you as he moved. He let you taste his hot breath as he panted in time with each thrust.

‘Mi, amor… mi amor, mi arañita…’

As he got faster, he started to part his lips, tenderly pulling you into a deeper kiss.

You could feel his abdomen brushing your spread legs as he started to fuck faster, harder, his lips warm but rough on your own. It was like he wanted to eat you up then and there.

You squeaked as his lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. He was ravenous, licking your teeth and your tongue and your gums. Every time he pulled back there was a string of alive between you, one that he licked into his mouth before kissing you again.

‘More… m-more…’

He whined pathetically despite his size, his domineering strength, as he begged for more of you. Your spit, your slick, your sweat, he wanted every inch. You were his.

‘Mi arañita…’

He pulled back from the kiss just to roughly bite and kiss your neck, showering you in soft little puncture wounds from your jaw to your collarbones. When you tried to kiss back he reared up and hissed against your cheek, his possessive flare showing once more. You moaned and backed down.

‘Mine… m-mine…’

His words got less coherent as he hissed, making you stare into his eyes as he mated with you. He even leaned in to kiss you with his eyes open, kissing your lower lip and then your upper lip all while forcing you to watch him moving, fucking, pulsing.

His affection and instinct turned nuclear as he got rougher, faster.

All he could think about was seeing you here, in his den, safe and warm and smiling. He wanted to wake up beside you, he wanted to bring you little treats every day, he wanted to watch you-

He wanted to watch you get full, swollen, and heavy with his offspring. He wanted those little eggs, he wanted to watch them hatch, he wanted to watch you carefully cupping his little baby the way you held Gabriel’s.

Part of him was almost jealous. He couldn’t stand seeing you hold anything but his child, the one he made with you, the one with your eyes and his fangs. The one he put inside you.

He wanted you filled with his seed, filled with his eggs. No more waiting. No more. His instincts were killing him. You were his mate, his MATE.

‘Uh- uh- uh- UH—’

He kept kissing even as he bucked inside you, now moving with such fever that your teeth kept clacking and smashing as he wound his tongue around yours.

He kissed until all you could taste was his mouth, all you could feel was his sweaty, tensed abs imprinted on your belly, and his claws on your hips. You felt your skin separate and then stick together once more with each passionate thrust, each slippery probe into your cunt.

He was whining as he got close.

Out of nowhere he suddenly switched from domineering to pleading, pressing his face against your cheek to nestle your noses and foreheads together while his abdomen flexed.

‘Please, please, please, please, pleassee, pleaseee’ he whined. You felt his cheekbones nearly cutting you as he panted against your lips.

‘Please, please, please’ he continued, his voice getting breathy with each one. You felt him grunt as he squirted a little pre-cum inside you, and his whining got faster. ‘Please, please, PLEASE, please—’

‘Shh, sh- a-ahh- shh, Miggy, you can have it’ you whimpered back.

His claws hands moved up to your waist as he held you still, his eyes now closed as he felt you against him.

‘Mine… Mine, mine, mine’ he whimpered. He pulled back from the kiss just to hiss, torn between his desire and his instinct. His eyes were blazing, his eyes dilated like a cat.

‘Mine… M-Mine, mine- my mate, l-let me mate you, let me- let me breed you, arañita, with my seed, let me breed you, my love.’

You were clawing at his back just to get some sense of stability, your body squirming as you cried. There was a sharp numbness in your hips now, as the weight of his abdomen hit you, but inside you were burning up. Every muscle was tired from tensing, your head was light and dizzy with pleasure, and you could feel the inescapable end approaching.

‘Let me breed me. I-I want you, stuffed with my eggs, swollen with them, c-caring them for me, because you’re mine, you’re MINE, YOU’RE MINE!’

‘I-I’m yours- I’m yours, Mig- ah—’

You could barely get the words out as you drooled everywhere. You felt him pulse deep inside you, that filthy, plush cock trying to impregnate you with all its power. He hissed again, his fangs dripping venom onto your skin.

‘Mine- mine- MINE- M- AHH!’

He shuddered fully as he finally tipped. He felt the undeniable urge to ejaculate, and without thinking he instinctually pulled you into an embrace.

He hugged you up against that tree, pinning you with his full body weight, and he felt you against him as his cock began pulsing that thick seed inside you. He barely moved, just giving the faintest little pulses with his abdomen to get it as deep as he could, because all he wanted was to feel it.

He nestled into your hair and breathed in your scent as he felt every second of his own ejaculation, every little inch of cum being pumped up and then exploding out into your already cramped pussy, and he made sure you felt it too.

This was his claim. His final claim.

When the last of it was spent from his reserves, he continued to hold you close, kissing your forehead and stroking down your waist He was exhausted but overjoyed, while you were barely coherent. All you could feel was that thick, sticky feed dripping down your thigh and bulging your belly up, leaving you utterly stuffed with his genes.

‘I love you’ Mig whispered tenderly, refusing to show how exhausted he was. ‘I love you, arañita. I love you.’

You let out a soft wheeze of a whine as you slowly, shakily, hugged him back.

‘I love you too, Mig’ you wheezed.

You felt him do that little wiggle of joy, but you also felt something warm hit your forehead. When you glanced up, you realized… he was crying.

It was only one or two tears, but they’d fallen from his thick jaw to your head. He gripped you tighter.

‘Mi amor… I swear. No matter what, no matter the cost, I will find a way for us to be together’ he vowed in that moment, still quietly trapped with your bodies intertwined and impaled, and he meant it.

He would finish the solution to overcoming your multiverse differences no matter the cost. You were his light, his joy. He had tasted love and he would not go back again. 

‘I swear it. I swear. You will be mine, no matter what…’

[hellonearthtoday]

double posting in one night because I'm awesome and unstoppable. read more if you want to be bombared by my warrior cat au

CAT JALLY IS HERE!!!! Idk why Dallys mom chose his dork ass name in the og but he's named very blatantly after the state/city here. He's bounced around different locations a lot, especially for how young he is. He's been in Texas, New York, and now Oklahoma. He hitchhiked in people's cars to get place to place, before eventually settling down in Oklahoma once he got situated w homegang.

Dally and Johnny are actually THEE dynamic duo here. Dally is farrrr more hype about sparring and fighting than Johnny is, like that freak lives and breathes it, (he likes winning) but Johnny still kicks ass because Dally trained him. Johnny has like has a sleeper build because he's constantly hunched over like a crinkled plastic bag so they don't ever expect it when he leaps at them like a sugar glider and starts scratching the shit out of them

Johnny doesn't really like sparring at all because he doesn't like hurting his buddies, and Johnny literally has only two modes and it's passive or actually rabid so he always reflexively holds back when they try and spar with him since he cant be normal about sparring. So he just ends up literally standing there doing nothing. Imagine those videos of goats just freezing. Or opposums playing dead

He can play fight with the others fine, but he can only really spar for real with Dally because he's not afraid of hurting him. What I'm trying to say is Johnny hones in on beating the enemy whenever he fights and he literally can't multitask. he's LOCKED in

Johnny mostly tag teams w Pony because first of all Pony is not doing that shit alone and SECONDD of all, while Dal and him DO fight good together, Johnny tried sending him A Look one time mid battle and Dally didn't get it and asked if he was abt to cough up a hairball. Then Dally was body slammed by the guy behind him Johnny was trying to warn him about

Johnny tried explaining what he did afterwards and Dally said that shit was stupid and Johnny mumbled smthin abt "Pony would get it😒😒😒" he was low-key embarrassed though

[daycourtofficial]

Personal update below

Tw: pregnancy loss, miscarriage, blood

Here it is, the words I’ve been unable to type, much less say out loud. Late in the night a few nights ago, I woke up to some abdominal cramping and went to the bathroom. I had been bleeding vaginally all day, but not enough to be super concerned.

I woke up and went to the bathroom, and knew something was wrong. To spare the details, I was bleeding a lot, cramping severely, and I knew my baby was gone. I felt empty inside, despite only being about 7 or 8 weeks pregnant. Intuition, I suppose. I just felt so lonely, as if I wasn’t supposed to be the only occupant in my body.

My husband took me to the hospital and after hours of invasive poking, prodding, and testing, a nurse practitioner I will likely never see again, who will likely never think of me again, told me that my baby was gone. He was straight forward, which I like in medical personnel. He told me my pregnancy was unviable and that it’s common. That we shouldn’t worry. These things happen. It’s normal, common. The three or so minutes felt like an eternity, waiting for him to leave so I could fall apart in the privacy of my husband’s arms, despite the lack of privacy an emergency department offers.

The hospital was so sterile, the bright lights and lack of windows made it impossible for you to track the passage of time. The winding hallways a maze of monotony, making it impossible to know how to return to your room without a guide. The walls were devoid of any real color, save for tv screens and workplace posters. And yet, the room I was placed in was the only room with decorative curtains. All the other curtains were just a shade of navy.

Mine had flowers on it, as if the world or God or the hospital wanted to offer me some reprieve, some reminder that for the hospital, this was routine, but that it wasn’t routine for me. That I deserved something for my eyes to find comfort in.

So here it is, the new reality I find myself in. My baby is gone. The rare statement that, once it becomes true, will never change.

I’m reeling a bit from this loss, as you can imagine. I’m gutted. I got married right at the beginning of the year, falling pregnant not long after. I joked with my husband that I started the year off becoming a wife and was ending the year becoming a mom. I suppose it really was just a joke in the end, but I’m not sure if the punchline was me or my continued optimism, in spite all that I’ve endured.

Anyway, everyone was extraordinarily kind to me when I had posted that I was pregnant. I know that technically I don’t owe anyone details of my personal life, especially not this personal, but I wanted to share it because I don’t want to be sad and alone. And perhaps this will find its way to someone else who has felt some loss recently, whether it be the loss of someone or something, or a loss of self or identity, or a loss of the future you had planned out. Maybe they will feel some connection to this. Or maybe one day someone will think of this as they reel with their own loss.

I don’t regret sharing the news so early, despite the circumstances that have now led me to making this post. Any joy we can find is worth sharing, even if it’s fleeting, especially if it’s fleeting, and even if it’s for some stranger on the internet.

Anyway, I have my dogs and my husband, who are very loving. I’m not sure when I’ll post this, I’ll likely stick it in my queue somewhere so it feels less like I’m hitting the ‘post’ button and more like softly whispering all of this in the wind.

I will be okay, I always am. Grief is a black hole I am trying navigate and figure out where it ends and I begin, trying to remember what my new life will be like and how to grieve yet another version of myself lost to time and trauma and sadness.

There is no narrative device here, nothing I did could’ve changed the outcome. Sometimes the world is just needlessly cruel.

This doesn’t really affect anything on here or what I choose to interact with. I’m still okay discussing/reading/writing about babies and kids and everything in that realm. I just didn’t want anyone asking after the baby and making someone feel bad for wanting to know how I was doing.

Anyway, I don’t want to end this on a despairing note, even though that is the tune of my life at the moment. I want to remember that my now is not my forever, and I hope anyone reading this that is experiencing any manner of suffering takes as much out of that sentiment as I do.

Yours,

V ❤️

[generalsdiary]

what if ratio breaks down and falls apart?

Dr. Ratio (x Aventurine at the end)

warnings: mental breakdown

word count: 1.9k

a/n: lots of ppl seemed to like this idea so here it is, not beta read, ffs come home aventurine

description: Dr. Ratio breaks down (angst), Aventurine mentioned/shows up at one point (fluff dare I say)

his hands shook immensely with the keys in his hand, the heavy doors open and close. he can feel it. he can no longer hold on. being a victim of routine, he manages to push on just a few moments longer, to put away his bag, lock the door, and take off his shoes. few steps through the hallway and it is over. his body trembling as his chest swells up with pain and sadness, so many emotions mixed up in one. filling up in his throat like a peach pit, choking him and making it harder to breathe. he falls to his knees, his breathing heavy, rapid, and irregular. in moments like these, he knows how to take care of himself, how to help himself, how to fix this. but it is too much. he can't. he also... why does everyone get to break down but not him? he can barely breathe in and breathe out, as many thoughts fill his mind.

eyes filling with hot tears except he cannot cry that much, he has always been incapable of actually crying and letting it all out.

like a water dam overflowing and drowning him along with it. the dam filling with water and using it in useful ways until the workers don’t show up, the tools get clogged, old, and broken. the dam overflows. nature always comes back to take its due, to pick up the price, especially human nature.

he isn't enough. he will never be enough. it is a fool's job, what he is trying to achieve. how could he ever spread knowledge everywhere, making it available to everyone? how is that being realistic? hopeful fool, he knows better than to hope. an idiot. a failure. why did he even think he could be capable of doing that? the aeons were right to not recognize him, he isn't worth their attention- he keeps failing. isn't it the definition of insanity to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? not enough. never enough. such expectations were put on him and he jumped to fulfill them- and when he didn't achieve the last one- to become a true genius, then he failed. failed the mold he was put in. failed the beliefs of everyone around him and their expectations. they were all wrong; everyone who said he could do something, become someone relevant, someone who matters and makes a significant change. and the things he did, well they were never perfect and always could have been done much better. for fuck's sake he fails his students, just how many get the actual knowledge, and how many give up? he isn't good enough, he should be better, and get the knowledge across in a way everyone would accept and know and learn. why is he not good enough? he keeps trying and it is never enough. not once has the universe said, ‘okay, you have done enough, you can rest now.’

why does he keep trying? and he is alone in all of it. who is there who cares for him- who puts his view of self aside, who can.. please.. who can please view him as a human.. a person.. just... as someone who doesn't need to be extraordinary- can he be loved in such a way, appreciated? who would care for him? when all that is said about him is that he is rude, when he only tells the truth and tries to help, he is told that he is insensitive, egotistical, and he is so far from it. why does everybody hate him? aeons, he hates himself. why was he born, created like this? it would've been so much easier to have been born an idiot, dumb, to work a normal job, and be happy.

he stares at an empty spot as these thoughts overtake him, and then he sobs as the next ones come... he wants to be held, oh so much. to be embraced, to be cared for, thought of in a positive way, for his name to be called with love. no one is enough, he isn't enough.

his thoughts keep spiraling in a whirlpool, almost like he is frozen in space. eyes fixed, hands shaking and the occasional warm tear falling down his cheeks, which are now red and hot.

his skin feels like it is burning, the clothes on him overwhelming him but he cannot move, it hurts, it all hurts. why does it hurt so much? this vicious cycle never ends. how could he stand up again when he is falling apart at the seams? is he worth it at all, the life he lives, if he cannot even help himself? he will never be enough. he wants to shout, to yell in frustration and anger- all swallowed in his throat while he continues to sit.. broken on the floor.

his thoughts become more incoherent, how could he.. why.. help.. not enough.. and so on. curses, hatred directed at himself, sorrow, and pity. his ears deaf at any sound, he is so lost in his mind, it is like he isn't even there.

this isn't the first time, but it was never this hard. he picked himself up before; standing, going automatically around his home to take care of his basic needs. but now he has no hope, no care for it, he cannot move. immobile and lost, so… so deep in this vortex.

the doors open and close. there's a voice, he doesn't even register it, “..tas?... home?”

the person makes a few more steps and sees Veritas, sitting on the ground. Veritas manages to register distant footsteps, rushed- it doesn't matter; he isn't even there. only his body is.

the person sits down in front of Veritas and hands him a glass of water. his eyes are unfocused, he appears still, hands on the floor with a slight tremor, cheeks shiny from the tears and a warm red color. instinctively he accepts the glass and drinks the water. the cool fluid makes him consciously blink and float back to the present moment. he registers the voice of the person in front of him.

“Veritas.. I'm here, good- the water is good for you- I'm here, alright?” his eyes focus on the blond man sitting in front of him. Aventurine's eyes are filled with worry and his hands cup Veritas' face, caressing slowly. his voice is calm, “you will be fine- I got you, okay?” Aventurine nods to himself more than to Ratio. his hand moves to the indigo hair, pulling his fingers through the soft locks in a comforting manner. Veritas' eyes are trained on him, full of pain and heartbreak, yet his face is neutral, so hurt.

“your head got to you again? I keep telling you- don't listen to it- it isn't right it only says mean things which aren't true. do you hear me?” the only thing he gets in response is a slow blink from the taller man. and it is enough.

“it tipped over, it isn't as bad as your head claims- don't listen to it, listen to me, focus on me. I’ve got you, I'm here-“ he pulls Veritas into his chest, cradling him in a way. “-and I'm not going anywhere”

fresh tears soak Aventurine's shirt. it hurts to be cared for, to be seen, and for that person to stay and not leave.. it feels undeserving and it just makes him cry harder. he sobs into Aventurine's shoulder, breaking down fully. his voice comes out high-pitched, breaking, “I... I.. it is so hard-” he sobs harder and tightly embraces Aventurine.

“I'm here, you will be okay, this will pass, I have you, don't- don't struggle against them, focus on me, please?” Aventurine pulls away to raise Veritas' chin and meet his eyes, those sunset eyes filled with tears. and he weakly nods.

“focus on me, my voice, Doc, focus on my voice. and I'm warm- you can feel it yes? my chest is warm and my hands- my scent- you can smell the perfume right? focus on me, ground with me. leave that dreadful place- it never did you any good.” he continues using safe words, repeating them, and when Veritas manages to get a grasp on reality once more; he feels empty, numb and Aventurine takes care of him. Aventurine helps him eat a proper meal, bathes with him where he holds him close against his chest, kissing his temple, and repeating that everything will be okay.

Aventurine holds him tightly in bed and whispers only the softest affirmations. before Veritas falls asleep, Aventurine mumbles kind words with his fingers in his hair.

he stays mostly awake that night, just in case Ratio wakes up in distress or from a nightmare. he doesn't mind it. he cares for him, if needed he'd pick his pieces up every day and help him put himself back together. Veritas is his, and he will always be there for him.

the morning turns out to be a slow one. Veritas would tiredly gaze at Aventurine, the blond man asleep into the late morning, and he wouldn't dare start his day- not yet, not now, not without him. Veritas' thoughts are slow this early in the day, they are quiet. he simply observes the younger man. finding some type of solace in it. he doesn't dare touch him as if the beautiful man was a statue made of glass and might break from a single touch.

when his eyes do open he hums and moves to press his face into Veritas' soft chest.

like it is the first time, Ratio is surprised, frozen for a few moments before he relaxes and embraces Aventurine.

“sleep well?”

he nods.

“I rescheduled my stuff, and I hope you will yours too-“, Veritas interrupts him, “..I did.” his voice quiet, monotone.

“today.. today will be easier, okay?” he raises his head, looking up. “I will be with you as long as you need and then some. please be kind to yourself. you need it” he whispers the last sentence and presses his lips into Ratio's cheek.

“I'll try... thank you.. for.. yesterday, dear gambler”

Aventurine nods, “I love you,” he says, easily, as if he didn't have to think those words through before he said them but it conveyed everything he wanted them to say. that he would be there for him, that he'd take care of him, that he would be his.

slight shock is obvious in Veritas’ eyes, that he would be loved gives him a stutter in his response. he feels so vulnerable, bare and naked in front of him. his emotions nude especially after being seen in the state he was in yesterday and despite that... or perhaps specifically because of it... Aventurine said that. with fear, felt on both sides, but also assurance that this is right, that it is a fact he softly says, “I... I love you too.”

beat. both staring into the other's eyes. Veritas cups his cheek. thumb drawing small circles, voice but a whisper, “please don't ever leave me” in that moment he is baren, vulnerable, his cards are on the table for the gambler to gamble off or hold tightly to his chest and fold.

Aventurine answers quickly with a small nervous smile, “the same goes for you too, Doc”

with all those emotions being so loud and scary, Veritas cannot keep up a coy act and even when he does Aventurine sees right through him.

“I promise” Veritas utters and seals it with a soft kiss.

[nico-di-genova]

Late Night Talks - Strollonso

Written for the prompt: [Lance and Fernando] dead-tired in bed, curled up to each other and they keep making dumb jokes and laughing at them

Warnings: NSFW, not super explicit, but mentioned.

@raapija hopefully this is sort of what you were looking for, I started with answering your prompt and then it just sort of got away from me.

Post Singapore is quickly becoming Lance’s least favorite post-race kind of feel, second only to Qatar which exists in a league of its own. He doesn’t do well in the heat, his body acclimated to colder climates and snow that comes up to his knees. Miami is about the closest he’ll come to acceptable humidity, and only when he can couple it with the lukewarm temperature of the ocean and the salty spray that comes from zipping through the waves on the back of a boat’s tow. But Singapore is the sort of wet heat that clings to you until you can’t breathe around it, it makes driving a car for two hours in on-the-limit conditions near impossible.

“I feel disgusting,” he complains to Fernando, drying the back of his wet hair with a hotel towel and grimacing. He still feels like he has sweat clogging his pores, embedded in his hair follicles, couldn’t seem to get himself clean no matter how hard he scrubbed at his skin.

Fernando, who had taken a shower in his own room because if they had shared it wouldn’t have resulted in attempting to get clean at all, wears a matching expression of discomfort. He’s sprawled across Lance’s bed, in nothing but his boxers and normally that would inspire something in Lance. But sex, especially with Fernando, is a sweaty endeavor and he would like to avoid adding to his already uncomfortable state.

Doesn’t stop him from getting hard anyway, noticeably tenting the towel low on his hips.

Fernando arches an eyebrow, peaks down at Lance through heavy-lidded eyes.

“No, ignore that.��

“Hard to ignore,” Fernando quips, but he’s just as exhausted as Lance and it shows when he doesn’t make an effort to sit up and pull Lance closer. Instead he closes his eyes and readjusts his arm where it’s resting under his head, lets out a sigh that Lance knows is a prelude to quiet snores.

“Don’t fall asleep there,” he complains, shucking off the towel long enough to slide on his own underwear, “You’re taking up the whole bed, asshole.”

He still needs to brush his teeth, probably make an attempt at skincare before the grime of the day sets in and breakouts quickly follow. But standing is beginning to take a lot of effort. It’s like he can feel the weight of the heat bearing down on his shoulders, even though they’re inside, can still feel it pressing on his chest. It’s a good thing they have a late flight tomorrow because Lance’s future plans include nothing more but sleeping until the bone deep exhaustion makes its way out of him.

Fernando hasn’t moved, still lays with his knees hanging off the bed, one arm flung out beside him, legs spread just as wide, like he’s intentionally trying to take up as much space as possible. He nudges Fernando’s knee with his own and it’s the only warning the man gets before Lance is collapsing down beside him, the full weight of him landing on Fernando’s outstretched arm and half on top of his body. They’re laying sideways on the bed, and Lance is too tall for this, immediately finds it uncomfortable. But Fernando smells nice, and he’s warm where Lance presses up against him, so he allows it for the time being. Even if Fernando’s arm is bony and uncomfortable where it’s digging into Lance’s side.

“You are still wet,” Fernando grumbles, still with his eyes closed, still half-asleep, “Off.”

“It’s my bed, old man,”

They share a hotel room most nights now, the separate bookings nothing more than a charade, but they are still technically in Lance’s room. Ignoring Fernando’s griping, he presses closer, throws a leg over the man’s body, finds the crook of Fernando’s neck and nuzzles his nose there, lets his wet hair brush against Fernando’s cheek, until Fernando is wriggling away in discomfort. Annoyance is not a tactic he employs frequently, nor is it one that typically works on Fernando, but it works tonight.

“Like a soggy cat,” Fernando chastises, and then sits up, taking his comforting scent and presence with him.

Lance smiles, satisfied, shifts until he’s right way up on the bed and can let his damp hair soak into the pillows. Fernando lets him get comfortable and then he lays back down, this time with his head resting on Lance’s chest, an area devoid of the moisture from the shower. His breathing evens out pretty quickly, tells Lance he’s quickly drifting back toward unconsciousness. One of his hands splays across Lance’s bare stomach, low enough that his fingers brush along the hair there.

And now it’s his turn to be annoying, because Fernando knows he’s sensitive, uses it to his advantage when he lets his pinkie inch down further.

“This is a dangerous game,” he warns, feels himself grow harder in his underwear.

He can feel when Fernando smiles against him, prickly beard rubbing against the raw skin of his chest with the curl of his lips, “You don’t want to play?”

“Too tired. It would be pretty boring, anyway. I don’t wanna move,” Lance lying flat on his back, Fernando half asleep, both of them pawing at each other’s dicks with flagging interest until the exhaustion won out and the draining adrenaline finally took the last bit of energy they had left. He doubts he could even cum, as tired as he is. And if he did he’d have to trudge back to the shower because no way is he waking up in the morning with cum dried tacky on his stomach alongside the inevitable sweat from being pressed next to Fernando, the human furnace, during the night.

Fernando laughs, quiet, rumbling, “You are a pillow princess anyway.”

“Hey.”

“Is true.”

“It is n-“ he thinks of last night, how Fernando had tried to goad Lance into riding him and he’d made himself more at home on his back. He liked looking up at Fernando, liked burying his head in the crook of his neck and scratching desperately at his back. All things that were pretty hard to do if he was sitting in the air having to dictate the rhythm himself. Lance wasn’t lazy, he just knew what he liked, so sue him.

Fernando knows he’s won when Lance changes the subject. “How do you even know that word?” he’s absentmindedly threading his fingers through Fernando’s hair, the strands mostly dry where Lance’s was still soaking into the pillow. His hair is soft, always well-maintained, soothes something inside Lance because the texture is familiar.

Fernando hums, pleased. Lance tries not to preen at the sound. Pillow princess his ass, he likes to make Fernando feel good too. He can put in the work. If the work is done easily on the comfort of his back.

“I am only forty-two, Lance. Not so old I do not know things.”

“One foot in the grave practically.”

Fernando scoffs, pinches Lance’s stomach in retaliation, “Yes. We go shopping for my headstone tomorrow, pick out flowers.”

Age used to be a thing between them. Back when this started a year ago. When Lance was twenty-four and Fernando still looked at him like he was seeing that kid standing in the Ferrari garage. It had been a thing approximately until the moment Lance took matters into his own hands, took Fernando’s cock in his mouth with practiced ease and any internalized war Fernando was fighting went right out the window. And then it had resurfaced with force the first time Fernando fucked him so hard he was sobbing into the sheets, the sex quickly aborted when Fernando got scared he’d done something wrong, no matter how many times Lance tried to promise it was only that he’d been doing everything right. So they’d had to have a serious discussion, establish boundaries, ensure Lance was in the right headspace to be in a relationship with a man he’d known since he was nine. Now they could joke about it, had put in the work so that the gap in their ages no longer mattered.

“A suit too?” Lance teases, accompanying the press of his words with the pads of his fingers against the base of Fernando’s skull, a pressure he knows helps because of all the times Fernando has done it for him.

Fernando laughs again, more gravely, barely there, “We are planning a funeral or a wedding?”

Lance thinks, stares up at the ceiling and tries to think of a reply that won’t leave him sounding strangled. Wedding. He is startled to find he likes that word, likes it coming from Fernando’s mouth with the concept of Fernando being the person waiting for him at the altar.

“Both. Two birds with one stone,” and then the image of a funeral wedding, both of them standing in a half-dug grave, an arch being replaced with a gravestone, becomes suddenly so funny he can’t stop giggling at the thought of it. “We could leave the reception in a hearse.”

It maybe speaks to his level of exhaustion that he can’t seem to stop laughing at the nonsensical turn in the conversation.

Fernando is still smiling, Lance can still feel it, “You are weird.” He says, and Lance can hear the alternate meaning in the statement, how fond it sounds.

“Been called worse,” Lance jokes, makes sure it stays that, because they both know there’s an element of truth to it. “You almost podium and you are talking about funeral weddings. Strange.”

Oh, yeah, P4. Singapore maybe had taken so much out of him because he’d pushed himself to nearly P3 with nothing but pure spite to fuel him. .3 of a second back from Sergio, chasing the unfamiliar sight of a Red Bull to the finish. He’d felt the desperate need to make up for last year, shut up a certain faction of people that couldn’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths. It wasn’t a podium though, only nearly one, so he still wasn’t particularly satisfied. Fernando had carried most of the excitement for him, praising him in post-race interviews and hugging him as soon as they climbed out of their cars. Lance had already seen pictures of the moment caught from his still active onboard, Fernando’s hand drifting to its natural place at his waist, the other on the back of his helmet. There was of course no sound, so no one had heard the praise Fernando showered him with before they went to be weighed.

‘So proud, cariño. So proud.’

“Almost a podium, Nano. It was P4,” Lance says now, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, slinking down further into the pillows. Fernando shuffles with the movement, until he’s beside Lance and then they’re both on their sides, parallel to each other. Fernando’s arm wraps around his waist, pulls him closer.

Lance studies the wrinkles forming at the corners of Fernando’s eyes, reaches out to trail the pad of his thumb along them. It is probably one of his favorite features, the mark of years’ worth of laughter. Lance likes to think of Fernando happy, likes when he can make Fernando smile enough that the lines deepen. He doesn’t like when Fernando presses his lips together as he’s doing now, a thin line of dissatisfaction.

“Still a good result.”

Lance concedes, “Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” Could have been better, would have been if he’d been able to manage his tires better on the entry to turn seven like his engineer had requested.

He yawns again, curls closer to Fernando so now he’s the one with his head tucked under Fernando’s chin. If they were still outside, still in their cars, the warmth rolling off Fernando would be unbearable. But the temperature of the hotel has been set to freezing, so his body is beginning to return to a stable level of self-regulation.

“Next time you will get around Perez.”

“He’s in a rocket ship, man. You want me to teleport to P3?” He mumbles against Fernando’s neck, eyes drifting shut, weight of his body sinking further into the mattress.

“Lawrence can hire people. Make that possible. He would invent this for you, I think.”

They both laugh, and then Fernando is rambling something about holding Sergio back next race, letting Lance take P3, and then P2 and then, impossibly, they both know, P1. It’s half in French, half in the bits of Spanish Lance is picking up but is too tired to follow, and then it trails off into nothing because Fernando finally lets the exhaustion win. Lance follows behind not long after.

When they wake in the morning it is to the ringing of Fernando’s phone, to the frantic texts buzzing through on Lance’s. They missed their flight, which means the morning sex isn’t rushed. It means that Lance gets to lay on his back, lazy and selfish, while Fernando teases him but continues to thrust with measured accuracy above him. He lets Fernando mark the skin at the nape of his neck as compensation for doing all the work, lets him suck at the soft skin there until Lance is sure the hickey will take a while to fade.

And maybe Singapore isn’t that bad after all. Despite the heat. Lance thinks he could justify the humidity like he does for Miami, if P4, senseless late night talks, and Fernando’s smile when Lance pants his name are the reward for enduring the climate. It all feels worth it in the end.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 16

Kipperlilly Copperkettle and the World's Smallest Violin

Welcome back to Fantasy High where everyone’s graduating with A pluses and we’re *finally* figuring out what the hell Kipperlilly’s deal is! 

But, before we get to that, we have some loose ends to tie up. You’ll remember that the Bad Kids just demolished the Last Stand Exam and dropped Gavin Pundle off at the Council of Chosen office in Bastion City. It’s the day before Spring Break so hypothetically they should be relaxing–they don’t have a Spring Break project like everyone else because of the Last Stand–but these are the Bad Kids. They don’t get breaks. 

First order of business when they get back to Elmville is to check the crystal they left recording at the crime scene. They see a massive figure--14 to 15 feet--wearing a hood approaching Buddy with their back to the camera. The stones behind Buddy glow with Ankarna-style light so they check to see if Bakur is escaping the gem he’s trapped in. He isn't but Riz using his spy tie can tell it's def something Ankarna related based on the magical mDNA he's clocking. Based on the footfalls, it seems like something big and humanoid (though not like a tabaxi or dragonborn with their digitigrade feet. Giant is def on the table though).

The figure moves closer to Buddy and Kristen thinks they’re about to slap the symbol on Buddy’s chest but Buddy’s body spasms and blood spatters as his organs seem to crush. He jolts awake with a pained roar and then says in his southern drawl, "Dang, y'all. I worship a nameless god of rage." The figure kneels over Buddy and they both vanish. 

So, yeah. Good call setting up some CCTV. 

Fig right away speculates that maybe all the Rat Grinders died and were brought back to life in that way. Maybe in the Mountains of Chaos, Fabian adds. Kristen points out that KP has been angry since Freshman Year and they all finally get around to digging into the file that Riz stole. Has she always been a follower of Ankarna or was she scouted at some point because of how insanely aggro she is?

Everyone piles on buffs to Riz’s already stupid Investigation score so he gets a 32. I’m going to bullets to organize all of this info:

Her Freshman and Sophomore Year accomplishments are pretty meh. She was doing quests but pretty low level, easy ones

We find out the reason KP hates Riz so much and it’s his tragic backstory. In a meeting at the top of Sophomore Year, they see KP complaining that it’s so unfair that Kalvaxus killed Riz’s dad. She’s too suburban and normal and she hasn’t been able to find any sordid secrets in her lineage that would make for good plot hooks essentially. Her parents went to *Mumple* for Cassandra’s sake! Over the course of Sophomore year she started having rage outbursts. and saying that kids with tragic backstories had an unfair advantage in adventuring and their grades should reflect that. 

She talks about how much she loves her party. The way she speaks, she's def the leader (which we kinda already assumed from the vibes). She seems especially fond of Lucy and says that she's the only one who sort of "gets it". Apparently, KP came up with the name "High 5 Heroes" and Lucy was supportive of that because it meant a lot to KP. Rat Grinders was a name that Ivy and Oisin came up with (they're the other pair of besties in the group which checks out because they were the ones hanging out and playing beer pong together). Ruben voted for the change to piss off KP and Mary Ann voted for it as well and refused to elaborate (on brand). 

In her Junior Year she gets even more unhinged. She talks about wanting to straight up murder Kristen. She thinks Kristen is going for President as a joke and won't even do the job when she's elected. And she he hates Fig for boxing her out from confronting Kristen.   

There's a note that, for Spring Break, they're going to the Mountains of Chaos for the second time. The last time they went was a week or two after Spring Break last year, right before Lucy died. They had a school chaperone because it was too high an adventure for their abilities in the school’s view and no prizes for guessing who that was: Jace Stardiamond. 

As we kind of already know, KP has been gathering Bad Kid info via Jawbone--specifically, stuff about the Prompocalypse/Kalvaxus fight and the Yes! Stuff. These questions are coming Sophomore Year, post the first Mountains of Chaos trip. 

With a dirty 20 Insight, Fig sees that, starting at the end of Soph Year, there's a change in KP's language where it goes from, "I don't think X is fair"/"I think they get special treatment" to just straight up, "I hate them."

The group wonders if Jace is the mastermind here and scoped out which of the students were susceptible to rage poisoning or if maybe he died during that mountain trip and got taken over just as much as everyone else. As far as they know, he was super chill prior to this. 

They take a brief detour to razz Fabian about The Incident in his dance class with some excellent puns and then another brief detour to IRL razz Murph because he makes the grave mistake of saying the phrase, “honor the cock.” And then, Kristen has a brain blast. She wonders if maybe the difference between someone who gets a crystal put in them and comes back as a rage person (eg: Buddy) vs someone who is left in limbo like Yolanda and Lucy is that you get a choice and you can either come back full of rage or refuse and stay dead with the mark on your chest. Brennan doesn't even make Ally roll for it, Kristen just gets it in one. And everyone realizes it makes sense. Yolanda was super principled and Lucy always stuck to her guns according to Ruben. [Note: This also offers a potential reason that Ivy wasn't shocked to see Lucky at the party–maybe she thought she finally took Ankarna’s deal.]

Another list of info just to keep things neat:

They check the tape from the Coliseum and see that there's a ten minute gap between the Bad Kids leaving and the figure coming to rez Buddy so that’s a bit of a timeline established (assuming no chronomancy BS I suppose). 

They also get the thing about digitigrade feet I mentioned earlier at this point but I just thought it fit better with the other tape stuff above. 

Ruben has deleted most of his social media presence from a little bit before last year but they can see from photos where he's tagged with his friends that the emo thing started after spring break of Sophomore Year, confirming what we assumed from his old Yearbook photo. Before that his vibe was more soft rock/folk pop (based on the musician they reffed who I've never heard of but just Googled--Jack Johnson). 

The Bad Kids think they might have to waste yet another Spring Break, this time chasing the Rat Grinders into the Mountains of Chaos, but before that, they have in-town business and downtime to attend to. 

Everyone's parents and guardians are so happy and proud of them for their Last Stand victory. 

Sklonda asks Riz if there's anything she can help with and he asks if she can look into Bobby Dawn. She says  Bobby used to go to Aguefort (info that has come up before according to Brennan though I don't remember it) and asks if Fig knows he's teaching there. It seems like a non sequitur until she reveals (via Emily figuring it out at the table with very impressive swiftness) that Bobby Dawn was at the center of Sandra Lynn's sordid past! For those of y’all who don’t remember, we learned in Sophomore Year that Sandra Lynn joined a party when she was young as a replacement member. There was a married couple in the group who were older and more powerful than her. She fell in love with one of them and when it all came out, she was kicked out and slandered (even though it takes two minimum to tango, as we all know). She was basically blacklisted from adventuring after that which is why she joined the rangers. Well, now we know who that couple was: Bobby and Pamela Dawn! 

Which, ugh what an upgrade Jawbone and honestly even Gilear are from Bobby Dawn.

(Also, as an aside, we learn Pamela is the chief paladin of the church of Sol which, como se dice, yikes. That whole pantheon needs better reps. Tracker is doing all the heavy lifting herself.)

Gavin checks in to say that the Council of Chosen is looking into things but the body is missing. The Bad Kids, who already knew this, share their footage because they have to do EVERYTHING around here. Gavin also lets them know that they’re completely free from academic requirements other than filling out a teacher eval and attending graduation (which is odd considering they aren’t graduating but Aguefort is a weird school and Brennan never went to trad high school so shrug–we’ll see if that’s just a weird Aguefort thing or a something suspicious).

Back to Riz and Sklonda, he asks his mom if she's ever heard of Eugenia Shadow and she tells him that she's a granddaughter of one of the founders of the Society of Shadows (which was named after their last name--it's literal AND a metaphor. She offers to drive him to the cemetery in Ashgrove which is about 90 minutes away. 

Wilma and Digby are exuberant as always about Gorgug's success. They’ve finally fixed up the Hangvan for him and give him the keys. He thanks them and then asks about why Frosty Fair picked their tree as the new event site. They think it's just because they're heavily in the Frosty Fair circuit and also someone (who we know is Ruben) vouched for them. But they mention that the FF reps had a lot of questions about their tree including whether the tree was a Root Warden. They don't have a Druid or Ranger who would know but Kristen gets a Nat 20 (and Cass is a sylvan goddess so it checks out that she would know some stuff about trees). 

A Root Warden is a tree that is so magical that it's a little more alive  than a normal tree (without fully being a treant) and has an Int of like 1 or 2 instead of zero. So it's basically the big, old tree that guards the other trees in the area and tells them when to have their guards up and protects them from general bad mojo. Brennan calls it a sentinel. The Thistlespring tree is the Root Warden for the trees in all of Elmville county.  Gorgug rolls too low to tell if the tree is corrupted but his parents do tell them that the people who came by to check on the tree dropped something into the roots with eye droppers that was absorbed. Everyone is worried about rage pollen, especially since it’s the middle of spring. And once he’s looped in, Riz can see on a map that Loam Farm is significantly outside the tree network that Thislespring tree is a part of. It seems clear that they were trying to make sure they were not only operating within the network but poisoning its very heart. 

Fabian gets a proud message from his dad now that they’re synced up with infernal/material plane communication. Gilear asks Fabian about baby clothes so, naturally, he burns them all. He also gets another 20k gold allowance because his life is full of intense highs and lows and that’s about it. 

Kristen’s parents text her to ask her to make sure Bucky is going to his classes. Suspicious! She agrees to check up on him. 

Aelwyn has accepted the job at Leviathan so she starts coming by the mansion again since there's a door/portal to the library which saves her the spell slot. Adaine tells her she can just come back home if she wants and Sandra Lynn agrees. Aelwyn asks if all her cats can come and everyone says yes, even if it means kicking out Kristen (which is a joke…mostly lol). So yay, Aelwyn is back in the bunk beds baybee! And during the month of my birth irl and in canon. Ty Brennan. Kristen tries to verbally spar with her because she knows Aelwyn is uncomfortable with people being too openly nice to her but Aelwyn accidentally claps back too hard and sends Kristen running back to her room near tears. Sorry, K! She’s working on her people skills! Fig of course has her President’s back and gives Aelwyn a wet willy which majorly grosses her out but she doesn’t sling any retaliatory spells. Progress! 

Gorthalax makes sure that Fig knows he’s always a resource for any help with anything infernal. Meanwhile, Adaine has a couple of spells she wants to cast. She makes a Simulacrum of Kristen, to make it confusing for anyone who wants to go after Kristen. It’s a clone of her with half her HP which is slightly British and slightly straight. She casts Legend Lore on Kipperlilly and gets no info which means she’s a basic ass bitch. (Riz, in comparison, does get a ping but it’s for being the 5th person to summon the Night Yorb so he is keen to do better than that). Finally, she casts Scry on Kipperlilly and doesn't get anything because she has Nondetection casted on her. She realizes that all of the Rat Grinders do at all times which is 18 third level spells a day which is crazy. Clearly, they’re scared. 

Graveyard time! On Saturday, they head to Ashgrove and find the grave of Eugenia Shadow who died at the age of 111. Adaine swaps to Ethereal Vision to try and find her but Riz (with his Blindsense) is the one who finds her (she’s carefully ducking behind Adaine to dodge her line of sight). Eugenia is annoyed to have two students find her in one year but very happy to drink, smoke, and do drugs with the Bad Kids(just go with it). 

Despite being dead, Eugenia knows a lot about stuff that's going on and congratulates them on passing their Last Stand. Riz asks her about what "the Rogue teacher found her" re: Kipperlilly means and Eugenia says that KP somehow found out that she was dead (despite the fact that as far as Shadow knows, the only records of her death exists in Aguefort’s office) and showed up at the grave with a rented backhoe, threatening to dig her up unless she showed basically. Which, yes, is grave desecration and messed up but is it any more messed up than the concept of a rogue in general? Like, I hate KP as much as the next person but this feels like normal rogue behavior. As Eugenia says in this very scene, rogues do crimes! Anyway, Eugenia reiterates something we already knew about Kipperlilly:  that she's obsessed with technicalities and loopholes. We learn for a fact that she's a Mastermind Rogue and Eugenia says that she's a lot like Riz but walking a darker path. 

As they're speculating how KP could have gotten into Aguefort's office (via Jace maybe?) Mazey comes up since she's acting principal and Eugenia reminds them that Aguefort is not a normal school with normal positions. Things are set up so that whoever is VP has to follow whatever the Principal says no matter what since Kalvaxus is supposed to be in that position as a prisoner. Equally importantly, Aguefort is more than a school. It's a hotbed of very important magical threads that Aguefort had going and they'll unravel without someone at the helm. That fact and the fact that killing her would mean chaos and not a simple transfer of power to another party is probably the only reason no one has tried to assassinate her yet. At his friends’ urging, Fabian texts Mazey to hang out, to help keep an eye on her. 

Eugenia tells them to keep their guards up and that she expects to see all of them in Rogue classes next year. She gives Riz an eval form and Fig asks about a Landscaping Company that KP contacted (which I think must be in cut footage because this is the first time it comes up in the ep. Eugenia says that the name of the company is Loam Landscaping which gives everyone pause for obvious reasons. 

Speaking of the Loams, they're on the same death clock as Lucy since it's been a while since they died and Adaine wonders if they can Plane Shift to where they are if they can figure out where that is. Brennan says that the vibe is that Yolanda and Lucy are probably with Cassandra, wherever Cass is. 

Downtime before Spring Break!

Fabian is up first. 

He rolls a 27 for Popularity. People are hoping he's gonna keep up lofi study nights over the summer and they're so psyched that his birthday is the same day as the election (the 31st). Adaine realizes that THIS must be the bday party/election victory she keeps having visions about and tells him he has to do it. For his second track, he asks Mazey out on an official date to Krom's Diner. She says yes and, on a 20, we get a very sweet scene where Fabian has a nice normal date with a genuinely nice, down to earth person.

Even though she's not supposed to play favorites, she tells him that Kristen's basically demolishing Kipperlilly in the election so far (which she is impressed by because she didn't think Kristen was going to take it seriously). She also lets them know that technically any place (including a big house party perhaps) can be a polling place as long as someone from the school admin is present (which could potentially be Mazey or Riz). 

Mazey gives him a goodnight kiss (getting his kisses in!) and we move on to his third roll which he uses to try and mend fences with Kristen for Gertie’s sake. He offers her any satisfaction she wants from an apology to combat and she chooses combat. With a 30 to her 16, he handily defeats her and she considers her honor satisfied. They'll chill now. And he even gives her some tips on flirting with Kristen. Trying to make sure his girl gets her kisses in too I see. 

Corsica and Terpsicore find him to give him eval forms. (Also, on a Nat 20, Fig steals RIz's eval and changes his one negative comment about her doing drugs with her students into a positive one because of course Fig loves her).  He just barely gets his Owlbears roll with a bardic and that's his last roll. 

Adaine is up next. She uses a portent to get a 29 on mystery to learn about the Astral Plane and figures out that when a god is dead in the Astral Plane there's still some level of intelligence, like how a mortal can die but then have Speak With Dead cast on them and answer questions. She also finds some weird linguistic trickery in a passage about how where gods die, where they go, and where they're borne--not born, borne as in carried. Imagine the laws of the universe hinging on a pun. Wild. They wonder if that's what Bakur was trying to do/if the proper location would have been the Mountains of Chaos.

Brennan also says she gets some interesting stuff about the Mountains of Chaos and its history and is left with the question of, "When Ankarna was said to have 'died' in the Red Waste, what does that mean?" Adaine decides to roll to learn some spells to help her party survive in the Astral Plane if they need to go and on a 29 spell she learns one new spell of each level. She also talks to her teacher (Tiberia Runsetaff) who, in addition to giving her an eval to do, says she's been talking to Aguefort (Chronomancy) and when she mentioned that she was having problem getting supplies for wizarding, Ayda left her a geocache. Runestaff gives Adaine the coordinates and she texts Fig so they can go together because she assumes Ayda left stuff for both of them.

Next, she wants to roll Relationships and throws an ice cream party for the whole manor which everyone really enjoys. She chats with Sandra Lynn who tells her that the Mountains of Chaos have been nuts lately and social animals like wolves have been killing members of their own packs as of the last few weeks. That sounds very rage-y to Adaine so she tells Sandra Lynn everything they know (except for the Bobby Dawn stuff so Fig can be the one to break the news). 

Adaine asks if Sandra Lynn will take them to the mountains since she knows the area so well from work and Sandra Lynn says they might have to sign some liability waivers but she's down as long as her bosses are down. They also have a very sweet conversation where Adaine says she’s very grateful to them for taking her in and she admits that she's not very good at being a kid. Sandra Lynn says that she's always available for any conversations that Adaine wanted to have with a mom and couldn't (on account of her mom being a raging bitch and also being chased by the Vands of course). Adaine thinks she's about to give her a talk on periods and dashes away, much to Sandra Lynn's bafflement. 

Fig does her evals for her teachers including Lucilla who is weeping over her not remembering her name and just calling her "Attractive bard teacher", Porter who is irked to be sharing a sheet with Zara, and Zara who wants to see Fig because she send her a flap of flayed skin with writing on it (the contract from Bill). Valid concern. 

Adaine wraps up her downtime by rolling to Scry on Jace and gives him a 1 to make sure he fails. She sees him sitting quietly working in his office where he's Fantasy Googling the Complicated Women podcast. Adaine doesn't see what else he's working on with a low Luck roll but on a 17 Perception, she sees that he's starting to sweat in his toasty office. He takes off his scarf and, as he does, she catches a glimpse of him in the mirror, revealing a deep ragged scar in his chest. He looks at the scar and, for a moment, his eyes flash red. 

Detention Kipperlilly for All Of That

Girl are you KIDDING ME?

“Oh boo hoo. Riz is so lucky. School is so easy for him because he has a dead dad to avenge. Some people have all the luck.”

Man, kick rocks. And she was like that *before* she got involved with Ankarna. 

Also, sidenote, it’s not even like Riz ended up killing Kalvaxus because of his tragic backstory. He didn’t even know there was a connection going in. He just wanted to find his missing babysitter and the other missing girls! You’re a Mastermind Rogue. You want a plot hook? Nancy Drew it up, bitch!   

You want Kristen dead? You want her DEAD? You’re jealous of Riz who lives in a household where sometimes you have to eat your cereal with water because there’s not enough milk to go around? Truly, get a grip.

Kristen for Making a Clutch Connection

This should really go to Ally but yeah. What a great leap figuring out that staying dead is an option and that’s most likely what happened to Yolanda and Lucy. 

This very likely explains a longstanding loose end from much earlier in the season. Ivy didn’t look shocked to see “Lucy” (Fig in disguise) at the party even though we know she was dead. With this new info, it seems likely that Ivy assumed that Lucy had finally given in and come back as a rage acolyte. 

Anyway, baller connection and she got there before I did. I love it when Brennan is so impressed he doesn't even ask for an Insight roll. 

Random Thoughts

Here is a super useful timeline of events Re: the Ratgrinders by @ratgrinders. 

I’ve seen a lot of people assume that the RG’s died in the Mountains of Chaos but I’m not convinced that happened. Because that was way before Lucy died and we know that once she died, she refused to come back as a rage person. And we know you can take a rage crystal without having to die first. That happened in the mall fight with the wizards. If they TPK’d there and Ankara offered to bring them back, then they would have come back without Lucy because she would have said no.

Here’s my current theory: They went to the mountains with Jace. They either stumbled into information about Ankarna or were led there by Jace if he’s proper evil and not just taken over. They were offered a deal and everyone went for it but Lucy. KP really wanted Lucy to join them–esp cause she considered Lucy her best friend. She tried to strong arm her into it (maybe even forging her god change form) and, when she stuck to her guns, she organized everyone to kill Lucy, forcing her into a position where she’d have to say yes to Ankarna in order to stay alive. In KP’s head, Lucy would do this and maybe be annoyed for a bit but in the end see it was for the best and forgive her–maybe even thank her. But she miscalculated the strength of Lucy’s conviction and voila. Dead Lucy. 

"Flash of Stupidity” is so funny. 

It's not surprising that Ivy and Oisin are one of the pairs of besties in the RG's--they were introduced playing beer pong together--but I'm super curious about what their dynamic is. And ditto for Lucy and KP. Was it like a high strung one/chilled out one kind of thing? I really wish the Bad Kids had been a bit nosier about their whole deal.

Do we think KP maybe wanted to make sure the BK's died in the last stand alongside Buddy and Pundle so they'd all come back as rage people? Maybe that crossbow bolt was laced with some rage mojo?

KP being mad at Riz for trying to pickpocket Jawbone of her file when (1) she’s literally a rogue as well and (2) she pickpocketed Kristen and Buddy of their revivify diamonds is insane. 

I love Lou committing to the bit of being appalled at the thought of half-siblings via Gilear because I know he knows that every time he explodes it becomes even funnier which means it’s more likely to happen but he can’t stop because he’s Committed To The Bit. Classic Lou. 

Wizards casting Legend Lore on themselves as the in-universe equivalent of Googling yourself. 

I love the detail that Mazey’s family lives in a Labyrinth in the Red Wastes. 

Kinda bummed we didn’t get to do more with the Relationship track so the special ability never came up and Brennan had to just reveal it (it can reduce stress but also increase it). 

I am so stressed about the bylaws and also Bucky. They keep coming up and then falling off of everyones’ plates and we’re running out of runway here. 

Adaine really said, “You didn’t just kill your parents? Skill issue.” She really is Aelwyn’s sister. 

The VP has to do anything the Principal says, right? And Mazey is the Principal, right? There’s gotta be a way to exploit that, especially now that Fabian is in her good graces.

When did Aelwyn get FIVE MORE CATS?

Answered and Partially Answered Questions

Last week I made as thorough a list as I could about what info we were missing and I wanted to note the answers we got this week. 

1) Why the move to Loam Farm for Frosty Faire? (The Thistlespring tree is a Rootwarden) 

2) How is Jace involved? Why is he manipulating Ruben? (We know Jace went w/ them on the trip but that's not a full answer) 

3) What were the exact circumstances behind Lucy’s death? Who was able to put the rune on both of their bodies and what exactly was the goal there? (We know the mark is from getting a rage crystal but rejecting it but we don't officially know who did it or what the goal was though you know my guess.) 

4) How did KP find the rogue teacher? (Threatened to dig up her grave. Info that she was dead was only in Aguefort's office so maybe got that from Jace?) 

5) Also what’s her damage? Why is she obsessed with Riz? What are her anger issues about? (She's a petty basic bitch) 

6) Why wasn’t Ivy surprised to see Fig in disguise as Lucy who was at the time fully dead? (Most likely because she thought she finally chose rage zombie resurrection) 

7) What’s up with the party vision that Adaine has now had at least twice? (We know this is election night and Fabian's bday now) 

8) What made the Rat Grinders become the Rat Grinders when they started as the High Five Heroes? (We know it was a vote led by Ivy and Oisin but not the why behind it) 

9) Where exactly is Cass right now? (We still don't know for sure but it seemed like a realm within Ankarna’s dead body which is prob in the Astral Plane. We do know Lucy and Yolanda are prob with her as of this ep.)

As an aside, we still don’t know how Oblivati Mori was broken to write Ankarna’s name before the Bad Kids found it but is it possible that the person who wrote it was Ankarna herself? Because Ankarna is still “dead” right now, right? Because she’s been active all the same. Oblivati Mori disallows others from speaking your name but does it disallow the god themselves from speaking or writing their name if mortals find them somehow? Kind of a stretch but I’m wondering if there’s enough wiggle room there to make something happen, especially since this episode Brennan said that gods retain some intelligence even when they’re dead on Adaine’s high roll. I dunno, just spitballing. 

(Also, I don’t remember where I saw this but remember how Aelwyn said KP is randomly loaded? The previous best guess on that was money from OIsin–the boy who was just gonna give Adaine diamonds–but is it possible that she’s spending the embezzled Frosty Fair money? We don’t know much much it was so hard to say if it was enough to be funding whatever this is. But wanted to throw that out there since we’re tying loose ends as much as we can.)

Anyway, can’t wait for next episode which I’ve been told will be more than THREE HOURS LONG and Brennan said in the AP that it’s gonna be a doozy. Excited, trepid, and preemptively bracing for another long haul review. See you then!

[strqyr]

as much as i like cinder's grimm arm design-wise and conceptually, there's just. it's gotta go. spinning it into a majorly positive thing is nigh impossible, the negatives are just so overwhelming especially when cinder's desire for freedom is taken into account (which it obviously should lol)

cinder can't protect it with her own aura, yet she still feels the pain from it. she's weak to silver eyes, which she normally wouldn't be. it keeps spreading, destroying her body as it goes. salem can use it to torture her; they directly parallel this with the shock collar cinder was forced to wear at the glass unicorn.

cinder wants to be free, but the arm is a tool of control. cinder wants to be strong and powerful, but the arm gives her a weakness she can't eliminate without getting rid of it—something that isn't an easy task, as if it's just cut off, it regrows.

if the goal is for cinder to be truly free—to fix the mistakes of the past, to fix the broken heart the grimm beetle 'branded' on her back—, the grimm arm has to go.

[sakyhana13]

I have a Hazbin Hotel fanfiction where Vaggie is a Carmine and here I have a compilation of memes of the Carmine girls and their dynamics in this dubious fanfiction that hasn't come out yet.

The relationship between the three of them is basically that typical sibling thing: "Mommy found you in the trash, but if someone said that to you, I'll want names."

They will pick on each other, but in the end, they will be sleeping cuddled up in a pillow fort with Clara moving restlessly around the bed, Odette with all the sheets to herself and Vaggie curled up in a ball like a cat.

Clara and Odette are somewhat protective of Vaggie, because she is their youngest sister and even though she vehemently denies being treated like the baby of the house, claiming that she is an adult with the body count and PTSD of a retired war soldier, no one cares. , she is the baby of the house and nothing will change that. Let Charlie say it, after a short conversation with the older Carmine sisters, she came out pale and shaking (she thinks she would faint when her future mother-in-law talked to her).

Odette is the oldest sister, Clara is the middle child and Vaggie as previously mentioned is stuck as the youngest child.

Clara is chaotic, extroverted and clearly has ADHD. She is the artist daughter, theater and cinema are her passions, even in hell she still writes some scripts and records short shorts during her days off, when she is not doing odd jobs as a DJ in the clubs in the lust ring (Carmilla obviously doesn't know from that). She is usually the one who gives the bad ideas, the one who drags her other two sisters into adventures or misadventures. She is a talker, a person who knows how to deal with the public, a stellar negotiator and salesperson. And well, she will do everything, everything, to make her sisters happy.

Odette is obviously the child whose mind never stops thinking of new ideas and theories. She is the inventor of the weapons produced by the Carmines industries, but she has her personal projects that don't involve military weapons, like gadgets to make her life easier, like her little robotic assistant ASSIs and her hellish computer because she's not using the fucking technology manipulated by the Vees. She's basically an Entrapta, autistic technological genius inventor. And it all started because she saw a plane take off and she wanted to do something similar. Carmilla had to prevent her daughter from meeting Jesus a few times (all 3 of them in fact, being little devils who got into trouble whether they wanted to or not). She just seems to be controlled and less chaotic than Clara, but anyone is less chaotic than the middle Carmine, but don't be fooled, just like the entrapta she's a bit of a mad scientist, but she and Vaggie usually reverse each other in controlling chaos. , normally she will agree with Clara's ideas at first and then bitterly regret having gone. Despite this, she feels responsible for her little sisters, so that they stay safe and well, she would do heinous things to care for and support the two idiots that her mother did the favor of tying her to forever.

And then we have Vaggie, you know how she is. But before the fall, even before her time as an exorcist, she was a quiet and shy but extremely curious child. She wasn't an artist like Clara or an inventor like Odette, in fact she was an explorer. Your eyes seeking to learn about the world around you, especially the little animals among the leaves. Loving every second he could spend outdoors watching the little ants do their work or exploring the forest or beach near his childhood home. Vaggie strangely has a chaotic streak, but is it completely by accident or because she went along with her sisters, usually she will be the voice of reason, but when is she not? Well, maybe hell's heaven will turn yellow and hot pink. Vaggie is autistic and I don't have much else to say other than: I love this headcanon and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands. Plus Vaggie would definitely lose her other eye to protect her sisters if she had to, but she'll never admit it, because she'll never hear the end of it if those two scoundrels hear it.

Yes, Carmilla has chaotic and neurodivergent daughters who would knock God off the throne if it were for their sisters, their mother is very proud.

(Sorry for the bad English, it's not my language, and the crazy text, but I've had this in my head for a while and I wanted to get it out, because I don't know when I'm going to write a fic with it.)