#it's insane how fast time flies and goes by...

[hongism]

miss all of u frens and being here with u all ☹️🥺

[mielzu]

warnings. cheating (w zayne dw), not proofread im going insane thank you, all over the place this is pure word vomit

Nothing could have prepared Zayne for what he was about to see the moment you stepped in his office for a checkup. Weekly, perhaps it stretched on more than it should have — made a few exceptions and adjusted schedules knowing it was you who was occupying his time.

Then you brought him, Carter. Carter. From Xander Sciences. The one who gave you flowers to get close. The one he supposed to keep at bay— held your waist and kissed your cheek.

Was it enough to feel rage in his heart? Fair to judge and scold you for dating Carter? Who, God knows what he and his team are doing with those experiments and prolonging patients with a faulty heart like yours.

And it seems you too, were promised a cure for your heart. What Zayne could offer ten times over. Give up his life. His heart. Take his heart, oh please. Why give yours to another who isn't him?

Terror as it was, an added nightmare to numerous, neverending ones he usually experienced, was perhaps a wake up call to him. An eye opening as one say. Zayne is always up for a challenge, was this even one if he had already lost you? What of those moments stolen in the dark? In his own office. Zayne holds you more so dear than Carter does and time serves as it's reminder and proof of why he is so much a better candidate than Carter does. But then again.

What's a battle you've already lost? Does it hold such purpose when he knows in his heart he could never have you now that one knocked and opened yours. He doesn't hope it's locked. He prefer to believe it's still open. Ready for someone —Zayne, to properly close it and claim as his. Whatever... that could ever mean.

Time flies and Zayne was nothing but supportive. Gave you his regards after apologizing for implying that Carter is a person who cannot be trusted, someone who's face should be gone and beaten to pulp, frozen and thrown to break in pieces and never be meld in again. You forgave and forget. After all, Zayne is a long time friend, he knows what's best for you and sharing his opinion on the man you're dating is normal.

That's what you tell yourself.

Your weekly checkups became way earlier than expected and doubled in days when you're having certain problems with how you breathe or when it aches after such missions that left you calling on him for help instead of your boyfriend you can't even text a simple 'hi' these days. Zayne arrives fast and efficient. Tending to you the best he could, presents you with sweets and goods to take home. Even patting your head down to your ears sometimes, like an owner to its cat. Affection, was it. But that was just Zayne.

Nothing unusual.

As time goes by, Zayne can confirm you see him more than this boyfriend of yours. He doesn't say anything of the topic, only occasionally asking what Carter is doing, what is he up to? Does he love you—No. Of course, he won't ask that no matter how he's aching to do so.

Zayne was only being a friend. Lunch dates, dinner dates, checkups that lasts more than it was intended to, the way he touches your face, caressing the apple of your cheek so pretty he couldn't stop until you point it out. Those eyes of his pleading in silence that you became visibly confused because Carter wants to have a date with you but what about Zayne?

“You haven't finished your meal, I'm sure he can wait a few more minutes.” He's right, right? Carter can wait and he will, Zayne makes sure of that. Every. Time.

Every time Zayne tells you to stay you do.Carter's calling for a meet up near your house? Oh, you're shopping with Zayne for groceries! Another date because he missed the other due to work? Oh, Zayne has you occupied with the topic of the movie you're watching, letting you get it out of your chest why you think this character uses his girlfriend to get what he wanted. It's so... so obvious. You're upset at your boyfriend.

Most of the time Carter is working and missing in action, calling you after a day or hours to keep you hanging, kept you hoping.

All the while Zayne is delighted of this discovery he found. See, Zayne always makes time for you. Never once he left you hanging except for those he purposely led you astray because he didn't want to worry but you still do. You're adorable and he felt bad. His emotions were consuming him.

You were particularly disheartened about Carter once more as one does when a boyfriend promised a date for the third time and canceled last minute. Made you wait for hours on end only to call a friend, in this case, Zayne and expressed how you felt. You didn't cry, nor were you surprised, simply dissapointed your own boyfriend can't make time for you for one day you thought he's off work.

You weren't thinking much. Zayne is the closest friend you've ever had since childhood and now you're both adults and still supporting each other through thick and thin — it was so easy to give in.

Perhaps because you were vulnerable you let him comfort you in ways he does sometimes but it was different this time. His thumb brushing along your cheek, a soft snicker on his lips as he tells you to expect such negligence from a man like him. Carter is notorious for his work in Xander Sciences and Zayne had seen him work before. No man like him would give you the time in the world and stop his constant operations in sacrifice for a few moments with the woman he asked to be his.

“Why don't you focus up here,” Zayne breaks your train of thought, gently poking at your forehead with a soft smile. His finger draws on your skin so gentle it made you giggle, until he was cupping your face, giving you a look which could only translated as - “I'm here, am I not?”

A total mistake it was. But it kept happening. Again. And. Again.

Zayne asks you to stay and you do. Zayne asks to massage your shoulders and you said yes. Knowing what you two would be doing, you always comply to his demand.

A moment you're watching a movie and the next he's between your legs, groaning at your taste while your eyes roll back, fingers tugging at his locks all while the phone Zayne had thrown somewhere in the room vibrates alone with the sender 'Carter' calling.

Then to a party, to your place. At his office desk, you're beneath, now your turn to be between his legs. Face flushed with embarrassment and arousal, lips stretched with the thickness of his cock, cheeks hollowed, “So pretty, keep doing that,” and you do, swirling your tongue around his length before he guides your head to take him deeper before holding you to stay there for moments too long, nearly restricted of air before he pulls out with a hiss. His cock glistening of your saliva coating him through, a string connecting your tongue to his cock, raging and twitched at the sight of you.

Zayne can't help but chuckle low and deep as you part your lips again without his command, pushing his tip past your lips and watched in quiet awe how well you take him in, how you looked too damn good not to cant his hips just a little to make you whine around him, feel your warmth spreading once more before he's in deep your throat again. “There you go...” he leans on his chair a little more, eyes closed while his hands grasp your head firm and pushed forward, your nose squished as Zayne finally reached his peak and you drank it all. No waste.

And another event had graced you an invitation. Carter was late. Zayne noticed you were chewing on your lips, looking around, staring at every possible corner of the room, even the stage to see if your beloved boyfriend was there but to no avail.

Zayne, the caring friend that he is, reassurances you that he might come. might.

And if he didn't, maybe it's a sign.

“Dance with me,” he whispers to your ear, leading you towards the dance floor and ignoring your muttering of that wretched man. Zayne wanted to dance with you, that's what he's going to do. “It won't hurt to forget about him for a moment,” maybe he was right, with how much you were with Zayne this should be with no issue.

Who knew you'd end up losing yourself in his sheets. You weren't even drunk. Zayne was being clingy, wouldn't let you go until he was sure you were coming home with him because of some excuse you've already forgotten this moment. Hi body was hot and so was yours. Zayne says the liquor was at fault in this, it wasn't yours.

“I'm drunk, help me?” so you help him, in his bed, shirtless with eyes yearning for you. triggering the feeling you kept hidden for so long. He's making excuses and you're letting him.

Zayne grasps your hips onto his, you hide your face by nuzzling against his cheek. Tightly closing your eyes and thinking of how he feels inside you while Zayne gently utters praises and reassurance, poisoning your mind that this wasn't your fault.

“I got careless, we ended up drinking, don't we? I'm all the way in, has he reached this far inside you?” he grunts and groans directly in your ears, your moans echoing in his.

You never had a drink, and you're a hundred percent sure Zayne did not dare take one either. This was a nonsense, surely, not an excuse but you liked the way Zayne held you close with those sharp eyes of his you got lost in. The guilt fading away as the night progresses.

That morning you left his place faster than you ever could. going back to Carter to have a lunch date.

Zayne was disheartened but he knew you'd come back.

You wanted out immediately, telling yourself it will never happen again.

But it did. every time you say “This is the last time.” Zayne would agree with you, hold you again, and again, and again. Until the cycle repeats.

Zayne was getting more impatient each time you'd leave immediately so the moment you're by his door, looking down at your feet before gazing up to him— Zayne did everything to etch himself onto your skin, inside and out. He started to leave you sore and unable to walk for days turned weeks, literally. You'd call in sick, he would send health certificates to your team so he could have you again.In those days you were with him Carter was none the wiser.

Flowers would be at your desk, your home, takeouts when you forget to eat, lunch and dinner dates like before. Kissing by an isolated corner, heated touches during checkups even if there's nothing wrong with your heart—maybe there is, it wasn't his. But he knows he's getting close.It came to such a point where you'd be begging him to stop this. Zayne will agree, towering over you, slender fingers that has memorized your sweet spots already caressing your chin as he leans in.

“This will be the last time? we're over?” Zayne kisses your lips briefly, lifting your chin when you nodded at him.

“Carter— he's... he's getting suspicious,”

“He's not. I promise, I'll do something about it.” There he goes again, the same solution and miraculously it works. you don't know how and you don't want to ask.

“Last time.” he smiles, humming before his lips brushes against yours again. “Try not to end up on my bed again, miss hunter.”

[iloveladybuglucy]

have a doodle/some hc's for my version of Oliver Grayson/Kid-Omniman🦗💛

*cracks knuckles* okay! so in the meleeverse (the taekwondo Mark I've shared a few times), Oliver still exists but he's a bit younger than his prime counterpart. here's some notes on him:

Oliver Grayson is the son of Nolan and Andressa, previous heir to the Thraxan throne before being taken to earth by his older half-brother Mark

He has a true form, as well as a human disguise. Oliver's true form has antennae, three fingers on each hand, insect-like legs, manibles, purple skin, and slitted pupils. Upon arriving to earth, Oliver quickly learns that these 'humans' looked a lot different than he did. On the rare occassions he's allowed outside of the Grayson home, Oliver feels ostracized from his peers because of his appearance, many kids even fearing him.

Being that he's half Thraxan, Oliver has the ability to shapeshift. He teaches himself how to conjure up a human disguise, which he uses when he fights or just casually goes outside.

Prior to gaining his Viltrumite powers, Oliver crawls everywhere- even on walls and ceilings. Debbie and Mark quickly learn that much like earth bugs, Thraxans also have the ability to stick to any surface

Oliver is very close to Rex, who helped raise him alongside Mark. The only way Rex could figure out how to calm a fussy baby/toddler was exploding whatever he could find that wouldn't be too dangerous, such as old pacifiers or toys. It always made Oliver laugh and even now as a kid, he's still fascinated with Rex's powers

He's able to make hissing and clicking sounds with his mandibles, usually only when he's angry or territorial

Mark ends up enrolling Oliver into taekwondo classes as well, which they take together. Being that Oliver's an insanely fast learner, he flies through the belt ranks and is currently sitting at red belt by age 1

Being that he's still very young, Oliver struggles to hold his disguise for too long. The weaker he gets, the more likely he is to lose it

Oliver has a noticably different way of speaking compared to Mark. He doesn't shorten his sentences (ie: he uses "i am going to..." instead of "i'm gonna...") and doesn't understand earth slang/sayings (ie: Mark: "let's get the ball rolling!" Oliver: "what ball? where is the ball going?")

He doesn't refer to Debbie as his mom here, nor does she really raise him as such. Andressa is Oliver's only mom in his head, and although he respects Debbie and appreciates everything she's done, their relationship isn't mother-son here. Debbie was against raising Nolan's affair kid, but cared enough that she didn't want to hand Oliver over to Cecil. Mark decides to drop out of college and raise Oliver himself, with Debbie stepping in when he needs help or guidance. Oliver usually refers to her as "Ms. Mom", moreso as a joke

Thraxan/Viltrumite hybrids are noticably weaker than human/viltrumite hybrids, especially in terms of durability. They can take punches just fine from most enemies, but an encounter with a full-blooded Viltrumite or any enemy on the same power level as a Viltrumite probably won't turn out too well

These hybrids are, however, noticably faster, far more intelligent, and tricker to catch than full-blooded counterparts. They can shapeshift, which can be used to their advantage in combat to confuse or throw off an enemy

[overmystars]

The Until Dawn cast and Mario Kart Wii... I pondered very long and very hard about this question... and return bearing real and true answers (headcanons and rambles ⬇️)

Beth: Insane MKWii goddess. Grew up on the game and played constantly. Put lots of time into learning a handful of ultra shortcuts and sometimes pisses everybody off by using these just for fun. The group can count on one hand the amount of times she hasn't gotten 1st. Can efficiently use any controller, but prefers the Wii classic controller. Put crazy time trials on every single track that remain unbeaten to this day. Not that Josh would ever beat them even if he could. She'll always be remembered through the ghosts she left. Josh has thought about booting the game up just to drive around with her again but... hasn't

Hannah: Prefers coin runners to racing. Peach main as soon as Beth became a Daisy main (matchies) chose the prettiest vehicle and is sticking with it <3 didn't play nearly as much as her siblings but did spend many hours watching both Beth and Josh grind glitches/time trials and stars. Wii wheel user!

Josh: Really good at this game. He can get fiercely competitive too, depending on who else is playing. Otherwise he's chill. Played almost as much as Beth did- and spent hours and hours trying to get stars on every cup to unlock Dry Bowser. He refused any help from Beth and celebrated for a week when he finally did it. Prefers how Jr feels to play and breaks him out when he's feeling particularly competitive but otherwise sticks to Dry Bowser because he's not letting that effort go to waste. Changes controller based on who he's racing, to "make it easier for you". Prefers the GameCube controller

Sam: Rarely ever places below 4th. She also grew up on this game through the Washingtons and has lots of fond memories spending sleepovers with it and the siblings. She's very humble, and doesn't usually say anything when getting 1st. She grins though (Josh loves that grin). Always down for battle mode! Plays with the Wii remote + nunchuck

Chris: Winning the custody battle over Rosalina with Emily. Usually when Em is also playing he doesn't get first dibs. So he goes Waluigi and mimics him every time he has a voice line. Funny at first but now it drives everyone (except Josh who joins in) insane. More and more often Em lets him have Rosalina just to spare herself from the constant Waluigi impressions. He's either really good or really bad depending on the tracks and typical MKWii luck. Goes for super fast vehicles with like no other good stats and either flies through courses and has super easy victories or has the worst time and comes dead last. Uses the GameCube controller

Ashley: Bad luck magnet. Hit by every shell. Trips on every banana. Once she used a bullet while over a gap and it just carried her into the abyss instead of saving her. She hasn't let this go and it happened 2 years ago. Vibes with Toadette and chooses her in any game she's an option. Also prefers coin runners and is usually content to just watch the others play. Another Wii wheel user!

Emily: Losing the custody battle over Rosalina with Chris. Goes with Birdo as an alternative. Is arguably even better when playing her. She was immediately amazing the first time she played. Gets really really competitive and Beth and Josh love the challenge and the intensity that comes with Emily's gloating and high confidence. Doesn't play the game outside of when at the Washington's but knows a good few shortcuts and tricks because she spent hours looking into it when she got home to ensure victory in the future. Plays with the Wii classic controller

Matt: Likes balloon battle and always pushes for team racing. Pretty average player. His character/kart combo is so light that he often gets bumped onto the off-road and pits, but he refuses to change. That's just a little guy right there in his little car! Something Matt appreciates. Really really insane on Rainbow Road for some reason. While being a Wii wheel user! Beth and Josh don't get how that's possible and hype him up every time

Mike: (Unknowingly at first) uses the best character/kart combo. Still gets 6th or lower 74% of the time. Always really cocky for some reason. Uses the plain Wii remote without the wheel (where is your whimsy, Michael?)

Jess: She got 1st once and brings this up any time anyone makes fun of her for hitting every possible obstacle. Still usually does better than Mike and is super vocal while playing, commenting on everything that happens. Wii remote + nunchuck

[johnsjackolantern4902]

Scarecrows reacting to the reader being uncontrollably loud

BTAS from his first episode specifically

He is very cocky about it. You have to kiss him or stuff something in his mouth to get him to shut up.

BTAS

He has to slow down or he's gonna cum too quickly. Seeing you break into nothing but a moaning and shaking mess is making him start to break too. His legs are getting wobbly and he's starting to moan too.

TNBA

Same as BTAS, but it's too damn good to slow down. He tries to hold it back for you, but can't for too long. He also gets really loud without thinking and gets embarrassed about it afterwards.

Salecrow

This man goes full dom on you. He's primitive and possessive af. He is not afraid to also make lots of sounds and he definitely does.

Yellow Lantern

He's cursing you for being so damn hot. He's trying his best not to cum too quick but you're really not making it easy and he jokingly gives you shit for it.

Mof

Confidence boost. For once he feels comfortable in his own skin and not as the Scarecrow. Get ready for his soul to leave his body because the amount of cum that is gonna come out of that man is unreal. Seriously, I hope you have sheet/mattress protection because towels are not gonna cut it.

Arkham Asylum

Oho. Ohohoho. He is LIVING for this. He's all over you. He's taking on the dom role and pretending he has everything under control when in reality, he is mentally fighting for his life not to cum in you too soon. He's not afraid to moan back.

Arkham Knight

Pretty much the same as AA Jon, but he's also fighting to keep going for you despite how tired he's getting and also possibly in pain, but he'll try to hide it. Despite the discomfort, he's also really enjoying it and is too stubborn to stop. He's mainly laser focused on what he's doing, but he does let out the occasional blissful moan in response to sensitive touches. He's a bit of a rougher dom than AA when it comes to physicality, but his words can be as praising or harsh as you want. He knows EXACTLY how to get what he wants out of people after all. Please let him rest for like a year after the session, he can barely move. Also definetly massage his leg and/or foot if he was using his legs. Maybe his back too, especially his lower back and hips. He is not getting off that bed no matter how much he wants to until at least the next morning.

Legends of the Dark Knight

He gets way too excited, goes as fast as he can without thinking and cums almost instantly. You have to train him to be a good boy and wait.

As the Crow Flies

He gets flustered. He starts off by worrying that you might be heard, but ends up way too turned on to care and starts making sounds himself.

Scarebeast

Gets insanely primitive and possessive, you NEED a safe word. Seriously, he loses all concept of how big he is compared to you, which can be very dangerous.

Nightwing

He's very cocky about it, trying to hide how tired he's actually getting (old man stamina).

Man Bat

He is very cocky and does NOT shut up unless you keep his mouth busy.

Catwoman

He's also super cocky, but breaks out into a moaning mess easily if you make the right moves.

Kings of Fear

He tries to act like a dom, but if you so much as look him in the eyes, he breaks too.

Harley Quinn comics

He either gets too tired to keep going or loses control and cums too early.

HQAS

He can't, he breaks too. He's barely keeping it together enough to not cum instantly, but he's hanging on by a thread and he is not gonna last.

Fear State

This man has not slept since the dawn of time. It would take a miracle for him to not need at least one break during the session. Other than that, he loves it. If you're open to overstimulation, he totally does it since the usual reaction is similar to panicking.

No Man's Land

He cums in abundance the second he processes what's happening. He too needs good boy training.

Year One

Laser focused. He's struggling not to let himself go apeshit on you and pound you into the ground until he cums. Luckily he's good at self control, but you very much see that the urge is there. He doesn't have the focus to talk to you, he's way too focused on: keeping you in this state and making you cum (if you can), not doing anything that might cross your boundaries, and not cumming right away.

Knight Terrors

Oh he's teasing you about it. If you try to muffle your sounds or hide your face, it's even better. If you let him, he'll even strip you of your attempts to hide yourself so you're fully vulnerable to him.

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

the greatest thing we've lost: santimarc [e]

“I missed you,” Marc manages to say, mouth slack and wanting, eyes bright on the half light.

Santi flattens his free palm against the cradle of Marc’s ribcage. Feels him breathe, the sharp staccato of it, and the heat of his skin. His tongue is leaden—clumsy. There’s too much to say, he thinks. Or maybe he’s being too emotional.

He kisses Marc’s collarbone, the jut of bone there. Then his arm—the bad one, the one that he’s spent years losing sleep about. His scars are raised and rough under his lips. Marc jolts, a sound caught in his throat, wet, needy. Jolts again when Santi realizes he’s distracted and crooks his fingers inside him. He throws his head back, sweat pooling on his hairline, casting him on a silvery sheen.

The night flies by him in jerky flashes. Dinner, too fast—though Santi knows they spent hours in that restaurant, laughing, too full of good food, though technically this must breach at least one contract. The track to Marc’s hotel room is a meaningless blur.

But this—

Santi has this moment in excruciating detail, punishingly so. Marc at the door, king-of-the-world reckless— how about one more drink? Which had lasted for three seconds flat, and then his mouth was on Santi’s, insistent, demanding. A hand under his shirt, and the other on his belt, blundering, inelegant, all want. He'd been thinking about kissing him for what felt like days, staring at the stain of rosé wine on his lips.

“Santi,” Marc bites out, urgent, his eyes fever bright and wide. He’s pretty like a heart attack like this.

“I’m here.”

“Another—why don’t you give me another?” He sounds frustrated, cleaved open, voice catching on a whine.

Santi rests his forehead against Marc’s sweat slippery thigh, panting wetly into the crease of his hip. Sinks his teeth into the flesh there, the imprint of his mouth red and mean. Marc jerks, sighs, goes slack at the pain.

He doesn’t say take it easy . “You’re something else.”

It comes out sickeningly, predictably fond. Same old. Marc puts his hand on Santi’s nape, tugs at the curls growing there. A laugh bubbles out of them both. Something giddy and light tangles in Santi’s chest—a champagne frizz under the podium, just tossing the data away and marveling at the show.

Santi would do anything for him. To him. That realization rakes its nails over his nerves, makes him buck against the bed.

Marc goes up on his elbows to look at him. There’s a flush on his cheeks, pink, precious, and an open-mouthed, reckless smile. His cock smears silver-shiny streaks of pre-come on his abs. Unfair. Troublesome . Even more when he smells the weakness Santi can feel breaking out on his own expression and does what he always will—latches on.

“I missed you,” Marc says again, dogged, unrelenting, painfully adoring.

And he clenches in convulsive, little spasms around his fingers. Santi has to bite on his tongue hard. Count back on every corner where the Honda is slow.

It’s fucking—insane.

“Me too.” But he keeps the same pace, only two fingers, scissoring them gently, not quite skimming against Marc’s prostate, not quite ignoring it.

Marc moans, wretched, wanting. It’s the mind-fuck of Santi’s life .

He hadn’t thought about this. It wasn’t ever like that, except in the odd stretch of time between 2018 and 2019, with Marc crystal-fragile and carrying a fiery streak of the divine anyway. You and me, Santi, just us, we’re the best, can you believe this ? As if he had ever doubted.

As if anyone could ever doubt, with Marc tucked against their side, champagne-slack, bright like gold.

But it wasn’t serious . Not when he had Marc’s data, and his wins, and his safety on his hands. Now he has this—the bruise on Marc’s collarbones, and his lube-shiny hole stretching wide, and the way his lashes fall over his cheeks.

If he could burn that image in his mind forever, he would. Thinks he already has.

Santi must be going too slow again. Marc makes a noise, one hand bunched on the sheets, the other digging into his shoulder. The thought of carrying Marc’s bruises comes like a knife to the guts sort of realization about himself.

“Can’t you just fuck me?” He bites out. Mouthy, still halfway to a plea anyway.

And he goes vice-tight again. The squelch of lube becomes deafening, obscene. Christ on the cross .

“Marc,” Santi chides, his voice gravelly, strained. He’s thinking about it—just slipping inside him already, God fucking damn it all.

“Hm?” His eyes are hazy. His hips work in small, tortuous circles when Santi freezes.

He would like it, is the thing. Another Marc-ism to add to the list— fastmeanrough here too. Santi tucks a laugh against the slippery crook of his neck, slows down his fingers, presses down against a smooth, trembling thigh to keep him in place when he bucks against his hand. He’s so hard his vision starts to blur around the edges, cock throbbing like a sucker punch between his legs.

But it’s his job to worry. Always has.

“Marc, are you happy?”

Marc’s lashes flutter over his cheeks. He’s pretty—pretty and wired and flushed pink, eyes round and wide, his bottom lip wobbling. “ Yes ,” he groans, grabs Santi’s wrist. His nails scramble against the delicate skin there. Mean, greedy. “Yes, but I wish things hadn’t—that we were still—”

His heart is three sizes too big for his chest. Also, his underwear feels gross, sticky, where he’s been leaking all over himself. Through that outpour of fondness, of need, Santi leans in to nuzzle Marc’s forehead.

It isn’t—it isn’t what they thought they’d always be. Honda forever, Marc had blurted out at—one of the Sachsenrings, he thinks, both of them drunk out of their asses, delirious with joy, with the fever pitch of king of the Ring .

And if not that, a team forever. It isn’t Santi going through ten hail marys over quali, over a divine save, and Marc dragging him up the podium after that, glued together from calf to shoulder.

“You’re gonna be just fine, babychamp,” he whispers.

Marc nods sharply. He’s fever-hot on his fingers, restless, feet digging uselessly into the sweat-damp mattress. “If I could I’d have never—”

Santi knows. Tries to shush him because he knows , but hearing it might unlodge that sharp piece of loss stuck somewhere around his ribs. Might unlodge that I wish you hadn’t, and you were the best thing I ever held, and I thought that without me you wouldn’t have done it that burns in his throat.

But Marc has clearly been working himself towards something. His gaze goes flinty, cutting—clear visor on a left-hander track, laser-focused.

His legs wrap around Santi’s waist. Suddenly he’s on back, scrambling for breath, wrangled like Marc’s bike when it tried to buck him off. Marc is there, everywhere, above him, boyish curls casting shadows on his determination, on his furrowed brows.

Santi blinks hard to the ceiling. He feels light, untethered, mustang wild—fourteen years later is either the most singularly stupid moment to do this or the only one that works.

“Sometimes,” he says, harsh, yearning, “I want to say fuck Ducati, fuck Gresini, fuck Frankie and hand you my data. Get you to tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Santi laughs. Tries to. What comes out is a reedy noise he doesn’t recognize as human—Marc eviscerates him and reaches behind himself to get Santi’s cock out of his underwear. His hand is iron-hot, calloused from the brakes. He can see where this is going, but his head might be stuffed with cotton, slow on the uptake, stuck on a syrupy wave of want.

“Should I talk you through a lap in Motegi?”

“No.” He goes crinkly-eyed, mischievous. Brno 2019 levels of bad for Santi’s blood pressure. It’s not any less devastating from up close. “I know you’re going to complain about my braking.”

“You eat too much ty—”

Marc smiles, shark-like, and drops down on his cock, mouth going wanton and slack.

It’s just the tip, because Santi grabs his waist and holds tight to keep him in place. Stops him from fucking himself in one single, ruinous stroke. A whine knocks its way past his teeth, searing, almost inaudible through the pound of his heartbeat in his ears. Marc looks smug, hungry—unfortunately, unflatteringly attractive.

“Be careful,” Santi hisses, nowhere near as authoritative as he aimed for. It comes out choked, a plea. It's not like that warning has ever worked.

Marc smells blood on the water. Grins, shiv-quick, a flash of white teeth and his tongue sweeping over them. You you you you you you , Santi thinks, or chants, snapping his hips to fuck into Marc.

It’s—surreal. Marc flattens his hands over Santi’s shoulders, stuttering through his next breath. That little noise is almost as good as winning with him.

[weebsinstash]

I know it was genuinely such low hanging fruit on the "abusive partner" tree but I can't get over how I totally called "Valentino who goes absolutely fucking MANIC INSANE if you don't reply to him within enough time and will text bomb you"

ONE OF HIS ANGRY TEXTS TO ANGEL IS LITERALLY LIKE "So haha it's been thirty seconds" and flies into calling him a fucking bitch but it's MISPELLED because he's sending this shit THAT fast and angry, like oh my god he's so impatient and spoiled and genuinely fucking moody and shitty and ugh, he's fueling all of my most horrible qualities and I'm absolutely eating this shit up 😩❤️

[datchidatchi]

[WIP] Husk Demon Mode Concept

He has 4 different forms based on poker card symbols and they all specialize in different things. He can't chose which form he takes. (more info below cut)

Regular Husk: Jack of all Trades, Master of None

Basically the Husk we know and love.

Clover: The Lucky Bastard

- INSANELY lucky to the point of cartoonish ridiculousness. Like pianos falling from the sky to crush his opponent type ridiculous.

- Shapeshifting (limited to shrinking only) he can make his whole body or parts of his body as small as a shot glass.

- Very weak. Punching him will probably kill him, but chances of hitting him is next to impossible.

Diamond: Razzle Dazzle them all!

- Persuasion/ hypnotism: Uses song and dance to get people to do whatever he wants. A Pied Piper of sorts

- Shapeshifting: Can shift his proportions to a form that is soothing to his target. (ex: if his target has a loved one that is fat/skinny/short/tall/feminine/masculine his body will shift into that to lower their guard.)

Heart: The Protector

- Durability: Can take a lot of damage without sustaining any injuries.

- Shapeshifting (limited to enlarging his body, maximum size tbd).

- Jumping: Has the jumping capabilities of a cat. - Wings: His wings are able to give him a bigger boost when jumping but he can't fly due to his size and weight.

- Mostly walks around on all 4 legs.

Spade: The Fighter

((The design I definitely need to work on more but this Husk is supposed to be the fighter/ offense of the lot. Going for a streamlined but bulky form like a Norman Bel Geddes car.))

- Speed: Flies incredibly fast.

- Eyesight: Can spot his prey from a long distance away and spot the smallest movement.

- Wings: Can use his feathers as darts. Rarely misses.

- Strength: Can crush someone's skull by stomping on it or crushing it with his talons.

RULES

1) He can't choose which mode he goes into. It's purely chance. He has a deck of cards he shuffles and picks at random. The symbol of the card determines which form he takes. He can use other gambling methods than cards but this is the simplest way.

2) There's a time limit on how long until he can switch forms (tbd).

3) He can go Demon Mode anytime he wants but it defaults to the last form he took. If he wants to switch, he has to leave it to chance.

Why the rules? He'd be too op if he could choose.

Other random info:

- Husk goes into Demon Mode for the hell of it, not necessarily for combat.

- List from more cat-like to bird-like designs: Heart, Clover, regular, Diamond, Spade

[tenaciouschronicler]

January 7 & 14 2025 2010

Took a break to recharge but todays the big update so lets see what happened!

Last week Jade played leapfrog with the power of her bass guitar to make her way to the frog statue while Dave finally connected with Rose to get the game running.

SOO much happened in this soundpage my GOD was it worth a week wait!!!!! My notes are a bit all over the place but lets sort some important stuff.

First the loading screen shows the house logo on fire which is very fitting for the current situation. The music, Suburban Jungle, starts of very fast paced really adding to the urgency of the situation. Then Dave and Rose seem to be waiting for the game to load, while doing so the spirograph does this really cool shifting to the music's beat acting more like an audio visualizer. Smaller screens are interspersed to orient us with what is happening side by side with Jade entering the statue and John creating the Wrinklefucker.

Part way through loading, we see Jade walking deeper into the statue. On the walls are more heiroglyphs and the floor looks like it has an image of Skaia.

The image decends, likely the jammed elevator AR was dealing with though I didnt notice the image at the time. Jade finds a giant purple lily right as the game finishes loading. Thinking on it its fitting and odd that the PURPLE lily has been counting down this entire time but just happens to align with Rose's Cruxtruder.

We get the SBURB text as meteors start honing in on Roses location. Dave gets straight to business, throwing Roses bed into the fire to make space for the lathe.

I have to laugh, how does it feel Rose?

Dave makes the questionable choice to put the Cruxtruder in the astronomy tower, forcing Rose to go up there. We get a side by side of the Cruxtruder and the lily which is on its own platform counting down from 4 minutes and 26 seconds. In another questionable moment, Dave sets the Alchemieiter on the roof. At least he adds a door and stairs to make quick access.

Dave then grabs Zazzerpan to knock the lid off and tosses him outside, breaking Zazzerpans hand which explains that mystery.

And then lightning fire tornado!?!?!

At 4 minutes 13 seconds (there it is) the cruxtruder starts counting down and once again we get a side by side with the lily to find Jade once again asleep. The lightning fire tornado picks up Zazzerpan as Dave and Rose get the totem created and scanned. Rose then throws Jaspers into the sprite for its first prototyping

The music slows down as we see the Alchemeiter finish creating the crux item, a bottle from a shelf of others. As the rain carries on, Zazzerpans hand flies through the sky as Rose notices through a puddle reflection. Notes played at this point are emphasized through rain droplets hitting the puddle but awash in the fires glow creating some really pretty ripples.

Dave goes to grab the Eldritch Princess as Zazzerpans hand knocks into the bottle and launches it into the river. The music starts building up again as we cut to Nanna using her lazer eyes to copy the note from the original Sassacres into Johns abridged copy.

Suddenly we see Dave being attacked by an insane murder of crows flying into his bedroom. I knew his dumb fix wouldnt work but it also slipped my notice that the window was just wide open this entire time. I mean yeah its hot outside but how did I miss that!! In any case, circumstances right now arent favorable to these kids and entering the game.

Rose seems to have hatched a plan as two more fire tornados appear. Once again the music calms as the piano takes stage and Rose runs off the roof to jump towards the waterfall.

At the same time Nanna releases Sassacres book off the cliff, fading into Roses shilouhette. As Rose reaches the bottle, Sassacres breaks through the clouds giving us our first glimps at the planet below.

Everything is navy blue with some brighter blue glowing bits throughout while a river flows through into the distance.

At the last moment, a tentacle reaches for Rose stopping her from falling into the waters below.

The second protyping is successful.

The music picks up again with a steady beat as the cruxtruder and lily show 20 seconds left. The lily starts blooming open and the small white spirograph appears from inside. Quick cuts between the lily, Jade, the meteor, Dave, the sprite, Rose all add to the tension as we reach 10 seconds.

Here we cut to the past where WV shot out of the crater and we see the original shape of the base, a bottle buried under the sand.

Three seconds to impact Rose breaks the bottle and the flash continues on. The spirograph deposits Daves copies of the game and disappears. How?? is a great question I have no answers for right now.

We switch to John who is making his ascent up the building, absolutely demolishing the imps in his path and utilizing the items he created. On the way he gets personal with an imp wearing his dads hat, using fists rather than the hammer. His final swing launches the imps off the roof and himself into the gate sending him who knows where.

We zoom out, first seeing Johns house, then the top of the planet where we can now see further below to the blue glow.

And finally the planet as a whole

End of Act Three.

This last bit is just what I wrote rapid fire on my first watch of the animation.

logo on fire fitting

neat spirograph to the beat

jade inside

dave making sbahj

giant lily

meteor imminent

dave sucks at placement

no! wizard

fire tornado!

(so much happened here i didnt keep up)

nana writing with lazers

crow attack

rose tf?

oooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (dots were connecting here)

bro what? daves disks?

john is going ham

[birdylanice]

TW!!: Scopophobia, potentially disturbing themes like trauma, mental health issues, and slight gore

Birdy was an ordinary girl in school who loved birdwatching in class. She was silent and would keep to herself, always distracted with something on her mind.. but she doesn’t know what that ‘something’ is. One day, there was a new student named Anna, who was very loud and rude. Anna approached Birdy, making fun of her for being so silent and for never paying attention in class. Anna would tend to bully Birdy, until one day,

Birdy walked home from school, exhausted from all the bullying. She goes to her room to stare at all the birds, until a crow perches on a tree branch near her window. Birdy opens her window, letting the crow fly inside her room. When the crow flies inside, she suddenly starts to hear voices, suddenly starting to feel watched. The feeling of being watched makes her terrified, even when she backs up into a wall, she still feels it watching her.

The crow gets closer, tilting its head.

It watches closely, feeding off her insanity.

All Birdy can hear is her heart beating fast.

Her breathing gets faster, and she gets dizzy. “Why.. are you.. doing this to me…?” Says Birdy. She hears voices, she knows them, but she doesn’t know who it’s from, where it’s from at that.

The crow seems to have a shadow beneath it, something so horrid one can’t explain. Its eyes glow full of pain and hunger. Hunger for more lives, Birdys life. It talks to her of how horrid the pain they have, how hungry they are.. manipulating her into what they want. Birdy was already tired with the relentless bullying, feeling trapped like one is in a cage metorphallically; but she would ACTUALLY be trapped now. The crow jumps on her as the clock strikes her birthday. She is now dead, a birthday cake for the guest.

The child feels trapped, but she feels nothing as her organs depart from her.

The child thought that nothing else would happen.

She would simply…not exist.

...But, she… awoke again….?

To lands forever to not be seen, the sky so vast and deep…there was nothing else there… but an…angel?

The angel stayed, looking in the sky with peace and calculation… a thorn in this world. The angel then turned around suddenly, so gracefully… what an odd angel. One with many eyes. The angel spoke. “Greetings… former mortal.” She spoke with a softness… and with a knowing look.

She continues with her speech.

“My name is Thorn, it is a pleasure meeting you.” She say with a bow in her head, no mouth to speak. “…What is your name child?”

Birdy stares at the angel in silence, hesitating. “Birdy.”

The angel tilts her head in a pleasant manner. “Birdy, a true name fit for its owner as sad it could be.” The angel looks at the child in thought… in wonder… and something else.

“…Where am I?”

The angel blinks her eyes at the same time, and then realizes. “Ah- yes… ahem.”

“Tell me, what do you see?”

Birdy stares at the angel. “…you?”

She blinks once more… it seems as if she hasn’t spoken to a mortal, a child one in so long. “…I-I mean, other than me… what do you see?”

“…A sky..and grass.”

The angel looks shocked, as if no one has ACTUALLY given such an answer. “…hm, what an interesting mortal that has been given by sky… It is always right. Follow me dear child.” She says as she slowly walks, VERY slow.

“Hum..” Birdy follows the angel, following at a distance.

“Most mortals, even one who have immortality flowing through their blood…. say a much more different answer, full of blindness. Nothing they say.”

“They don’t realize that nothing IS something… but you on the other hand did the opposite. You saw the sky and the land. You saw the land that supported you and the sky that gave you a fate.”

She stops suddenly.

Birdy pauses along with her. "....?"

“You have more knowledge than one of the most powerful beings Ive encountered through my existence.”

“You are destined to open your eyes in the cage you are in and to break free form it.”

“And most importantly, you’ll grow in the future to be truly free, just as I am.”

“With your soft flowerlike nature, and your sharp thorn like knowledge you are given…”

The angel gestures to the sky. “The ability to be awakened.”

She puts her hand down and turns back to the child.

“Though…. All destinies can be changed, for I’ll give you this. Do you wish to accept the hard nature and challenges that across from being truly immortal, or do you wish to stay in mortality, reincarnated to do something still good to the mortal world."

“I give you this option… choose wisely my child, for either way you’ll still be in my care for I must in order to help your destiny.”

“I…I don’t know.. do I have.. to choose?” Birdy backs away slightly, not knowing what to do. She can endure pain and torture while being immortal, or be reincarnated to something good.

The angel nods. “Child, if you want to be free, you must make a choice for yourself. One who is free can make the choice.” The angel stops for a second. “…I’ll give you the time to decide as long as you want. I already know what you decide, but you must make it on your own…. You will still remember me even when reincarnated.” She says, she turn around back to the sky in lost thought. She stops speaking fully, leaving the child to think.

“I want to be immortal..” Birdy says, unsure.

“Are you sure of this child?”

"Yes.."

The angel nods in understanding, putting out her wings, as if a way of a handshake…

"...Err..?"

The angel then realizes. “Ah right… time does mess me up at times especially with such a new being.” She puts her hand out instead.

Birdy takes the angel’s hand, slightly unsure. As the two hands collide, she feels something… as if her entire body are connected to a pair of crow wings. But there’s nothing there.

"Whats...happening to me?"

Thorn smiles. “Only time may tell dear immortal.”

@thorn-th0rn-bush

[mamawasatesttube]

What was Cassie and Cissie’s wedding like in ur fic universe?

GOD this is such a good question they deserve an actual fic about it at some point but i don't know when i'll get there but augh!!!

they are THE butch/femme couple of all time. cissie is in a gorgeous dress (strapless and backless of course, we can't have cassie knowing how to put words into sentences properly on her wedding day); cassie's in a neatly-tailored tux, but she's doing that insanely hot thing where she's got the jacket over a real low cut top and a necklace instead of a button-down under it (turnabout is fair play, cissie).

kon is cassie's Dude Of Honor; anita is cissie's maid of honor!

cassie cries when cissie reads her vows. cissie doesn't, but she does gets so giddy she starts bouncing on her feet instead.

bart catches the bouquet.

bart immediately goes WAIT. i certainly don't want to get married next boo!! KON HERE TAKE THIS QUICK--

there are a bunch of cissie's civilian friends also there. cassie's identity is public (cissie's friends screamed when cissie was like yeaahhh so i'm dating. uh. you know wonder girl?) but lots of the other heroes' in attendance are not. one of cissie's friends points at tim like "so... who is that guy???" and cissie is like uhhhh don't worry about it!

kon also actually cries during the ceremony (they've grown up!!! his friends that he's known his whole life!!!! they're getting married!!! waaaaaa) but vehemently denies this

their first dance is a very elegant waltz that's fairly slow and not too elaborate because they both knew they'd need to factor in the way they'd be so busy staring at each other in awe

donna gives a speech that's overall very sweet and genuine but also does roast cassie for zapping herself with her own lasso once because cissie texted her and she was literally tripping over herself to get her phone out as fast as possible.

cissie gets a little tipsy on champagne at the reception and decides that cassie needs to carry her around for the rest of the night. ten minutes later she's like well okay that was a little silly of me but cassie's like nope i can't hear you i'm not putting you down :]

instead of a Just Married™ car to drive away in, cassie simply sweeps her into her arms and flies them away at the end of the night <3

[chubbygirlmaddy14]

The Dollmaker: The Brother

Dale Kobble x reader

A/N: So this is insane, and I would keep going with this chapter but I wanna leave it like this as well. Plus this is a REALLY slow burn fic. I promise i’ll make it to where something happens soon lovely’s :p

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374688245?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=chubby_girl_maddy16

Chapter 12: The Brother (1,770 words)

TW’s: Fight scene, choking, abuse, yelling, gun use, threatening (kinda)

Y/n POV:

  I woke up later than normal, thank god I don't have work. Sitting up I find myself in my bed, not the living room like I thought I would be. I soon remember what happened and my hand flies over my mouth. I didn't mean to kiss him on the cheek it just happened??

  I will say it is better than his lips, he would stop talking to me forever and I don't want that, I don't need him to be out of my life. I get out of bed, drag myself to the bathroom, and turn on the hot water before brushing my teeth.

Smiling thinking about the events of last night, I pull off my clothes and step inside, sighing as the hot water hits me.

  My mind keeps going back to what I can remember, the laughing, the movie, and how sweet he was to hold me the way he did and take me to bed after it. Still questioning why I'm as attracted to him as I am,

I realize I've never felt this way about anyone before. 

  I mean yeah throughout college I went on dates, hooked up with different people, and tried to get out there but I never felt anything for them like I do with Dale. There's something about him, like I'm trapped here for the rest of time as long as he's here with me. I don't mind that one bit though. 

  Stepping out of the shower and grabbing my towel, I hear the doorbell ring as I'm drying off. I smile thinking it's him and quickly put some comfy clothes on, not caring about how wet my hair is. Rushing downstairs I open the door with a smile on my face, only for it to drop just a second after. "Hey little sis!" he says pushing his way through. 

  Ryan.

Of course it was him out of all people, and speaking of all people, I catch Dales eyes land on mine as he walks around the neighborhood. I smile softly at him before shutting the door not wanting him to get caught up in any of the drama I know Ryan was soon to start up. 

  Moving to the kitchen I see him grab a slice of left over pizza from last night in the fridge, "what do you want?" I didn't care about how I sounded, how my tone came out, I wanted him out of my house as fast as possible. He smirks as he leans against the counter looking over my way

"Someone's in town that I just found out about, and I'm not allowed to come over and say hello?

  I roll my eyes crossing my arms, I know how he plays this little game of his. He pretends to be all sweet and then snaps

he's just like our father.

"Who told you I was here?" I stare at him, trying to be cautious of who knew that I came back and who didn't. Stepping away from the counter his attitude changes into one I didn't wanna experience. 

  "Grandma! You know she was so excited to have you back, but you didn't want me to know. ME. I- I'm you're brother, we're supposed to be there for each other." He chuckles, slamming his hand down on the counter making me jump, the pizza long forgotten.

"I've been busy, I didn't need any distractions!"

  Moving around to where I was he walks closer, his eyes turning all black. I try to back away as much as I could until my back hits the wall, fuck. His hand comes around my throat pushing me harder into the wall as my mind goes blank. Everything I learned is all forgotten in that moment, I just

freeze. 

  "Busy enough to not say hi? bullshit. You come back here, move into the house that YOU got everyone killed in, and walk around like you're some kind of hot shot just because you're a big agent now?" His hand gets tighter around my throat, making me try to gasp for as much air as I can.

My gun, I need my gun.

  He backs away, making me gasp for air as his hand moves to his side. He finds a beer in the bottom drawer of my fridge and pops it open, drinking it before smiling softly like nothing just happened.

No, what the fuck actually happened.

  I didn't think he would do that ever again but I guess I just got to find out how he is one more time. He's stronger then last time, but I know so am I, I just need to focus with him. "Sit" he gestures with the bottle before grabbing another one for me, "I'm fin-" "SIT."

  I couldn't tell if he was drunk this early already, or just a bigger prick then before. Sitting down he slides over the extra bottle after he opens it. Drinking some of the liquid I sigh, and I know it was early but I didn't care. I had to deal with his ass for however long he stayed. 

  Reaching around I find the hidden drawer wrapped around my side, opening it, and slowly grabbing my other gun and holster. Wrapping it around my thigh, his dumbass wouldn't know a thing. I wasn't going to do anything, but he would do anything to me. I had to be safe, with how old we both were now,

we're different, he's different. 

Longlegs POV:

  I didn't like the way she smiled at me, I knew she wasn't safe. I saw him pull up as I left my house to come see her, I knew she wanted me to finish helping her today. Remembering how he looked from the pictures, I thought of what y/n said to me.

"he's not the best"

  After a few minutes I move over to look through a window, one I knew they couldn't see me from but I could see everything. I needed to know she was safe and if I needed to do anything to stop him, and I would do anything for her

  I see him move behind her, her eyes following him but refusing to move her head. Seeing a beer in her hand, my eyes raise in confusion. I knew she drank, but not voluntarily this early. I watch as she finishes the bottle, taking a deep breath after and keeping her eyes forward.

She didn't want him there. 

Y/n POV:

   Chugging the rest of his beer I stay silent, just watching him, trying to see what he would do. "We need to catch up," he smiles, a fake lovingly expression showing up on his face

“I think I'd be okay not catching up actually, I have shit to do that doesn't involve you."

  Why am I acting like this? I don't know, but I wasn't gonna be treated like a little girl for him anymore. He comes around and stands behind me, his hands resting on my shoulder before he starts digging his fingers in. First soft but soon replaced with hard painful squeezes that were sure to leave bruises.

I finish the rest of my drink trying to get help from the liquid confidence and having to deal with him.

  "Stop." I say softly not being able to take what he's doing anymore, but he doesn't. Soon my pleas turn into screams before I smash the bottle over the counter. The sound doesn't stop him, but the glass from my end cutting his arm does.

"FUCK!" he screams holding his arm as I push him off my, keeping the glass top in my hand.

He smirks before pinning me on the counter, grabbing my wrist and slamming it down on the marble top, making me let go of the glass. He takes it in his hand, "this is for them, what I have been wanting to do for so lon-" I sweep his feet from under him, making him fall to the ground. 

  A gunshot is all that is heard before complete

silence

  The bullet going into the floor next to his head, he stares at me with wide eyes. "I told myself I wouldn't use this on you." In complete shock he doesn't say anything, the gun moving lower onto his stomach, "put it down." my voice has gone monotone as he pushes the glass away from him. Putting together my thoughts I take a deep breath. 

"YOU KNOW I DIDN'T DO SHIT." I gain the confidence keeping the gun straight towards his stomach not taking any chances. I shouldn't be screaming, people can hear me but I can't stand how he still talks to me and treats me, plus the gunshot has already gone off, screaming isn't that bad. 

  "Just cause I found them, we both know that wasn't my fault." I started laughing putting my other hand on my head

oh my god, I've gone insane. 

He gets up, walking towards the door and grabbing his jacket his aimlessly threw on the counter. 

 Putting my gun in the holster, I grab the glass and throw it in the trash. I walk behind him to the door after it's all cleaned up to make sure he left, I couldn't risk it. He takes a few steps down the stairs before turning around to look at me as I stood at the front keeping eye contact with him while he looked back.

"This conversation isn't over." he said harshly making me smirk as I look down "yeah we'll see about that.

  I watch him drive off, leaning against the door and closing my eyes I take in the fresh air. Soon I hear footsteps rushing up to me, making my hand go onto my gun and open my eyes.

Dale keeps his hands up as he gets close and I take a breath realizing it was him, "please don't shoot."

  I chuckle shaking my head, "don't scare me like that, especially while I have this ready." His hands go to my face as he looks down at me, "I heard the shot and the screaming, are you okay?" Blushing like crazy, I hold his hands against my face before pulling them off and kissing against his knuckles.

  "I pinky promise I'm alright, I trained for this stuff." I put my pinky around his before sighing, "Just ignore the hole in the ground in the kitchen, and let’s finish what we started last night."

I smirk softly seeing a blush rise to his face after everything and grab him hand bringing him inside with me.

[shururika]

Mirror

The end of the day arrives and I pack my things and put on my backpack.

I rush home, enter my room, throw my backpack on the ground and go in the bathroom.

And I look at myself in the mirror.

I am almost late to school everyday and it makes my parents mad.

They don't understand why I take that much time in the bathroom.

It's because I look at myself.

I look at myself for so long.

At every traits on my face.

At every flaws.

I look at myself until I wanna throw up.

I look at myself until I can't take it anymore.

Until I cry.

Until I can't see the difference between pretty and ugly.

That's why I take so much time.

Time flies by when you look at yourself.

They say the time seems long when you do things you hate.

And it goes fast when you do things you like.

So, perhaps I like it.

Looking at myself.

Maybe that's why I do it so often.

I have no idea anymore.

As I look in the mirror, I have lots of things that come to my mind.

I think about my life.

The reasons I don't like it.

I feel like my reasons are not valid so I dismiss them.

But why?

Why do I even need to find a reason to be sad?

I guess it's because people don't care about your feelings except if it's actually "important".

I have so many questions about life that no one wants to answer.

But maybe it's because no one knows.

We are humans after all.

No matter how hard we try, we can never understand everything.

Sometimes, I feel like my reflection in the mirror is nagging me.

Like my face and my body in the mirror are changing shapes depending on the day.

Depending on if they want me to be sad or happy.

One day I love what I see and the other day I hate it.

If you think about it, there could be another person looking at you through the other side or the mirror.

Watching your every moves, imitating them.

An entity whose only purpose is to imitate you.

The only vision of the world they have is you.

Their only source of entertainment.

Their only reason to be.

Getting a little bit more insane by the day.

Wondering why you're not the one on their side of the mirror.

Why you get the right to live and not them.

Wanting to replace you.

Trying to make so hate yourself so they can switch places with you.

What if, some people got replaced, but no one ever noticed.

It's a scary thought.

Sometimes, I think that if my reflection had a consciousness, they would be ashamed of me.

They would throw insults at me every time I get near glass.

They would call me all sorts of names, they would say things like:

- "Gosh, you're so pathetic!"

They would be nagging me.

They would be identical to me.

Except for one thing.

Their smile.

They would always have a big smile.

A dark smile.

Their smile would look like someone curved a quarter of moon on their face.

Like their mouth wouldn't contain teeth or a tongue.

Just dark.

They would nag me with their smile.

Their fake smile and their insults would drive me insane until I crack.

In my imagination, they would convince me that I should give up my life to live as a reflection.

And, desperate to escape this reality, I'd accept their offer.

Of course, in reality I wouldn't accept it.

What would be the meaning in living of the shadow of someone else.

Giving up your dreams and opportunities for nothing.

It would be unpleasant.

[dontyoufinditstrange]

The Hardest Part Lyrics That Alter My Brain Chemistry

Noah (Stand Still):

"when i turned twenty, i was overcome with the thought that i might not turn twenty-one" "there'd be nothing left of me except these songs" "when you don't know where you're going just stand still, soon enough you will" "and when all the hopes and joy you feel turn into paranoia, cause it will, remember just stand still." "life's not over but i'm feeling twice the pain" "i'm not better, but i'm not quite the same" "it keeps coming so i keep counting the days" "it don't get easier just harder yes it will, remember just stand still" "just stand still and watch the sunset bleed with only dirt under your feet to feel" "sixty-seven thousand miles an hour around the sun and that is how it feels" "in a universe that's infinite yet everything gets lost in it" "you'll be right, you'll be wrong, you'll be fine cause life goes on and on"

Ready To Go:

"is it what i deserve for spending the last of my love on someone i knew that i'd always lose?" "its inevitable and we both know that we're on borrowed time" "how fast and far it flies" "there's too many memories getting the best of me" "i loved you first but you'll be the first to leave"

Mr. Percocet:

"my heart gets pulled into pieces whenever you're poured up" "you are malevolent and benevolent" "you are the devil that i revel in" "you're only kind when you're all fucked up" "you're only mine til your high is gone" "i wish you'd still love me when your drugs wear off in the morning" "you want someone to worship the worst of your mistakes"

Every Beginning Ends:

"someone's at fault but i'm not blaming you" "you have to wake up every morning and choose to love someone but i'm finding that harder the more that i'm falling out of love with you" "every beginning has ended with you"

Hardest Part:

"the hardest part of going home is facing that you're getting older and everything you've ever known is over" "cause its been so long and the day's soon gone" "all the paths are overgrown" "the sun is down its getting colder" "in your eyes i see the fire that so long ago was burning" "through our smiles we try to hide it, all the years that we've been hurting" "we don't get too long that's why i'm holding on"

I Just Want A Lover:

"i can't believe i didn't see a mistake is just a state of my identity" "i believed that i would never ever get it right" "the twisting of the knife, the bend until the break and then it all goes wrong" "a kiss and i go blind, can't see its just my fate" "its unlivable" "i just want a lover who's in love with me, not another liar making love to me" "i'm sick of hoping, tired of waiting" "i pick my conscience over clarity and deal with the disparity its anarchy" "and the narcissists all run at me with guns ablaze no empathy, insanity"

Unfinished:

"afraid of love and afraid of change" "fell into you like a leap of faith" "i guess i met you at the wrong time" "now i've got you on my mind and i'm wondering tonight if it could've been more but we were left unfinished" "that one night was beautiful, streets were cold, but we were warm" "i've got a slideshow inside my head of might've-dones and could've-beens" "if its a purely hypothetical love, tell me why i gotta miss it so much?" "all i've got is a memory, its a masterpiece, but its incomplete" "i just fill in the empty space with a dream of what we'd be if i had stayed"

My Side Of The Bed:

"i know you want space. its not what you said, but the way that you said that you're fine" "i believe there's something missing in me" "i can't stop thinking bout how you felt hollow when i was holding you last night" "i'm just too fragile to speak" "there's something broken in me" "if you're gonna make it, you gotta be tough, but i'm not" "my heart's paper thin and the softest of words can send me spiraling"

I Burned LA Down:

"you left a hole in my chest when you left and my heart followed you out the door" "i stood and bled in the hall, watched it all, and the mess that it left on the floor" "if i gave you less, would you want me more?" "embers in the dark can look just like shooting stars to a bitter broken heart" "i was never a part of your plan" "you can't make a god of somebody who's not even half of a half-decent man"

[thephantomcasebook]

can you explain the “brothel queen” thing?

It was at the end of the war, after Rhaenyra captured King's Landing.

The situation was that Daemon had left Rhaenyra for Nettles, and Rhaenyra had sent assassins to kill them. Aemond was setting fire to the Riverlands and all those loyal to Rhaenyra. And - most importantly - Daeron and the main Green Army was moving fast on King's Landing after completely destroying the Blacks outer defenses and had recently eviscerated the town and keep of Bitterbridge along with all the people and Black loyalists in revenge for the murder and savage butchering of Prince Maelor.

At the time most of the Black Council - Corlys being their chief - were begging Rhaenyra to sue for peace with Daeron and release Alicent back to him as a sign of good faith. But Rhaenya sees the suggestion that they couldn't best Daeron as treason and imprisons Corlys Velaryon in the Black Cells, blaming him for the death of Jace.

At the time, morale on Team Black was at an all time low. Daemon had abandoned them and the war to run off with an underage girl. Aemond was burning alive many of their families and destroying their homes while they were stuck in King's Landing. And Daeron was routing the Black Forces, and there was a growing panic among Rhaenyra's loyalists about his coming.

Also, many of the Dragonseed riders flat out refused to face Daeron in open battle - most of them were terrified of him and Tessarion who at this point seemed invincible.

It was then, as it seemed that Rhaenyra was on the verge of losing everything, that Alicent approached Rhaenyra and tried to talk her into releasing her and Helaena and sending them to Daeron. Alicent offered to negotiate on Rhaenyra's behalf and to divide the realm into three. With Aemond ruling the Riverlands from Harrenhal, Rhaenyra ruling King's Landing, and Daeron ruling the Reach from Oldtown - which Alicent would join him.

In the book it is said that Alicent was genuine and truly wanted peace - she wanted to be returned to and reunited with Daeron.

But Rhaenyra, who at this point is half-mad after Daemon left her and was sick from being cut many times by the Iron Throne, instead, mocked Aemond and insulted Daeron - saying basically that she won't stop till she's killed all of Alicent's children. Already grieving Criston's death, and angered by the insult to Daeron, Alicent snaps and goes on a bitter rant about how Rhaenyra's dead sons were bastards and that she dare not lay a word upon Alicent's boys.

To this, Rhaenyra flies into a murderous insane rage about bringing up the Strong Boys and their paternity. She orders that Alicent's tongue be cut out for speaking 'lies' about the late Princes. But the White Worm instead, suggests that since Alicent was so obsessed with bastards that perhaps its time for her to have one of her own. So, basically, the White Worm and Rhaenyra take Alicent and Helaena to a brothel, chain them up, and charge a small fee so that anyone could come and rape Alicent and Helaena while Rhaenyra watches. This supposedly happens nightly for a forenight.

It is contested heavily as to if this really happened. But it is believed to be true by the Common People of the realm till even the time of "Game Of Thrones".

This turns out to be one of the greatest mistakes ever made politically by Rhaenyra, because, the tale spreads throughout the realm and gets all the way to Daeron who is moving like the devil into the Crown Lands.

Now, any peace that could've been negotiated with Daeron is lost to the Black Council. Also, Daeron's army swells on the road with thousands of volunteers that pick up the ride to King's Landing to avenge the depravity. Thus, when the main Black Army finally confronts Daeron and the Greens at Tumblestone - a suburb of King's Landing - they are vastly outnumbered and are confronted by an angry and highly motivated fighting force that basically tears them to pieces.

The anger is so palpable off of Daeron and Tessarion that two of the most power Dragonseed Riders - Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White - shit their pants at the prospect of fighting him and instead turn cloak on Team Black and join in the massacre of the Stark and Riverland army and the people of Tumblestone who declared for Rhaenyra steadfastly despite the "Brothel Queens".

Daeron tries to stay the Massarce and restrain his men, but he is so filled with rage and hate over the death of Maelor and the rape of Alicent and Helaena, that he gives up trying and lets his men butcher, rape, and massacre both Rhaenyra's soldiers and her loyalists while he goes off alone to vent his rage in private.

The massacre of Tumblestone and the dark avenging reputation of Daeron on the road leads to a mass panic in King's Landing over the Brothel Queens, fearing what The Green's Champion will do to them when he arrives. It fosters a deep anti-Rhaenyra sentiment in the capital that starts to boil over.

But when Helaena kills herself after Aemond dies ... people believe it was over the "Brothel Queens" incident and the people of King's Landing go into complete and open rebellion against Rhaenyra to avenge Helaena and her babies, rioting and killing any Black they find ... including Joffery Velaryon and all the Dragons in the Dragonpit.

[lustbile]

Can I Help You?

Spider-man!Mark x Graffiti Artist! Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Mark goes down, thats about it. Also destruction of private property if your a stickler for the rules. And why of course this is because of their weird little sitcom thing omg how did you know

Part Two

—

—

You like to consider yourself someone who’s pretty aware of your own surroundings.

The fact that you started your “career” of graffiti a handful of years ago, alongside your interest in tagging high risk spots, you had thought you had developed a good sense to pick up on if someone was approaching you, or even just spying on you from afar.

And maybe you let the height of the billboard you stand on now give you a false sense of security, and maybe the fumes of the spray paint and the hissing sound of it exiting the can clogged and fogged up your brain, but you were completely unaware of your new company until it was too late.

It was a bit embarrassing how you jumped at the gentle tapping he laid on your shoulder, the small ball that lived inside the metal can rattling loudly at the shake of your hand, and all of can do is thank whatever higher force that you had just let up on the valve and you hadn’t messed up the masterpiece you had been crafting for the past hour and a half.

You spin around fast enough to get a slight revenge, and a head rush, the form that stood behind you jumping higher than you did before stumbling a few feet away.

Your eyebrows furrow tight enough that it starts to build a full ache in your skull, and with a huff loud enough that it bleeds into a full annoyed groan, you stare at the figure clad in bright reds and blues in front of you.

“What the hell do you want?” you ask as your lip curls up below the mask you wear to filter the fumes that dance around you. The words escape your mouth without any thought, and once your brain catches up with your new surroundings, you begin to panickedly shake at the person you swore at and contemplate apologizing before he responds.

“That uh,” he stutters, and you're sure the face below the skin tight mask he wears is twisting as he, to your shock, stumbles over his words, “you’re defacing private property.”

There’s an awkward moment of dead air, his breathing still audible and labored as you try to wrap your mind around his surprising lack of confidence and the words he left hanging in the air, and you take this moment to contemplate whether or not the handful of trees below you would break your fall if you took a leap of faith to avoid any further conversation with the hero.

“And?”

“That’s illegal,” he speaks so matter of factly it makes your stomach twist.

“I’m aware.”

Dead air returns, and you’re sure if you listen hard enough, you’d be able to hear the gears turning in his head in time with the rhythm of his breath.

You stand there, mutually existing in the rumble of the cars passing below you and the airplane that flies overhead. It’s clear he’s taking the moment just as much as you are to size one another up, the fact both of you both wear some form of mask to cover so much of your features you feel like you’re on equal playing fields, but his insanely skin tight suit that shows off his lean but strong figure is distracting in a way that’s embarrassing to admit, but at the same time makes you sneer and wonder why these heroes feel the need to be so flashy.

There's a loud honking from below you as someone lays on the horn fitted into their steering wheel, and the noise jerks you out of your stupor, and you sputter out, “is that all you wanted to tell me?” you slowly start to turn away, the panicked energy you have from being caught by someone your city considers a celebrity of some type making you feel on edge and short tempered, “because I have very important things to do that don’t include entertaining a wannabe Avenger.”

“Yeah, looks really important. All the vulgarity and devil horns show that,” he says in a sarcastic tone that tells you what you said would be considered a ‘low blow' and it stops your movements and confuses you for a moment, “How’d you even get up here?”

“What do you mean? Same way you did right?” you jump slightly in the air while pulling a mocking face, hoping it, and your mask, covers the rise in your heartbeat you get from the metal below you rattling, “just jumped right up.”

“Ha ha,” he emotionlessly responds as he crosses his arms over his chest, “but seriously you just seem like too much of a chicken to climb a ladder that tall.”

He tilts his head towards the ladder that rises from the ground up to the landing of the billboard, and unfortunately for you, he’s not totally wrong. He’s wrong on the front that you did in fact climb that exact ladder to get where you are now, but he didn’t need to know you had to chain smoked two or three old cigarettes to get a head rush strong enough to cloud your nerves. So you feel very justified in being annoyed at such an accusation from someone you don’t know, but you suppose the attitude is warranted to at least some extent.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be spider boy?” you ask with an eyeroll, before lifting your hand to point at the man’s face that’s plastered beside you that you so lovingly destroyed, “you know like, stopping real criminals like that blood sucker.”

“I’m not much for politics,” he says in a tone that doesn’t fully fit in his throat, “I just want to do what’s right.”

“Do you think anything he, or any of his goons, is doing is right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” your other hand tightens harshly around the can, “all you ‘heroes’ are the same. Just washed up losers trying to play good guys so you can get some desperate recognition that you can’t get with your real face. If you really wanted to do what's right you wouldn’t be bothering me.”

He scoffs and it’s like the straw that broke the camel's back. You don’t know where the rush of irritation came from, or why such a small noise set it off so badly, but it was like it cut the cord that connected your brain and your hand and before you can review the consequences, you're chucking the half empty can directly at his head.

If you had a face to put to the name and presence of the man in front of you, you might have found the way his arm darts out to catch the object midair incredibly hot. You’re not sure why such quick reflexes were something you found attractive, but as he lifts the can to inspect as he slowly stalks closer to where you stand, you feel a heat building in the pit of your stomach. The percentage of it that was fear or horniness was unclear, but you could unpack that later.

“That was a little rude and unexpected,” he says in a voice so suddenly calm you can’t help but want to hide under a rock, and as he hands you the can you avert your eyes, “but understandable I suppose.”

“So you’re not going to turn me in for attempted assault on top of the damage to property charges?”

“I wasn’t going to turn you in for anything,” he admits as he takes a small step back to glance up at the harsh words and drawings you decorated the space with, before turning his face towards you with a sigh, “would you believe me if I said I just thought your art was cool and I wanted to talk to you?”

“Then what was all the legality crap you were going on about?” you step to the side, getting between him and the billboard, feeling suddenly and weirdly protective of what you had done but also getting your attitude and confidence back now that he doesn’t seem interested in using his weird web stuff to cuff you.

“Can I call it being bad at small talk?” he shrugs with a quiet chuckle as he reaches back to scratch at the back of his neck, and you mentally kick yourself and force your eyes up as they try to linger on the shifting lean muscle below his clothes.

“Making me think you were going to get me in trouble isn’t something you can excuse,” you push, only ounces of self control away from demanding he do something degrading as an apology.

“Okay you’re right,” he admits defeat and shrugs, “but you have to admit you’re a bit intimidating.”

“Me?” your chin pushes out in your confusion and you sputter for a moment, “you do know you’re literally Spider-Man right?”

“That doesn’t mean as much as you think,” he mutters under his breath, “and I mean look at what you were doing. Your art is crazy and then I get up here and you’re smart and sassy. You’d be a match for heroes a lot better than me.”

“You started it,” you grumble, pulling a confused hum from him and an embarrassed flush from your chest at how casually he compliments you, “you know, I wouldn’t have been so short if you didn’t come out of the gate the way you did.”

“I have a problem with provoking more than I intend to,” he says like he’s in a confession, before clearing his throat, “I’ve had one or two people call me on it, but I can’t help it when it makes the bad guys hit harder y’know? I just like a challenge I guess. Didn’t need to do it to you though.”

“So you can take a fight?”

He looks back at you now from that question and your dismissal of the rest of his words, the white of his mask that covers his eyes shifting smaller as if they’re his actual eyes and he coughs awkwardly before puffing out his chest.

“I mean,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his hip pushing out as his hands lift up with a new wash of arrogance, “you’ve seen me on the news right? Taking down these things like twenty times my size?”

“So you’re saying I wouldn’t be a problem?”

“Do you want to fight me or something?” he puffs up even more with a laugh, putting his hands behind his back and leaning towards you until you stumble back and press against the flat surface you’re grateful that’s already dried.

“I mean…” you trail off trying to collect your thoughts, now enjoying the shift in banter from genuine annoyance to playfulness, “I’m just warning, if you want to switch up and get me in trouble, I won't go quietly.”

“Oh I’m sure as hell you won’t,” his voice is different now, and even though you can’t see his face, you can see the down tilt of his chin that tells you he’s taking a fully scan of your body to the best of his ability as you’re clad in dark and loose clothes, “you don’t seem like you do anything quietly.”

“What can I say,” you move before you can lose the confidence that zips through you, trailing your finger down the raised ridges of the fabric that wraps around his bicep, “I like to make a statement.”

He shivers and turns his head away for a moment before staring at you again through his mask and whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “I think the Avengers might have some rule against flirting with civilians while on duty.”

“Oh is that what we’re doing right now,” you keep your voice teasing, hoping the words don’t deter him in the slightest, but instead encourages him further because you’d be a liar to say you weren’t curious to see where this could go.

“I definitely think so,” he nods earnestly, his arm purposefully flexing below your fingers as they slowly flatten your hand on the side of his arm and slide it closer to his shoulder, “would be a shame if I went back on my promise and got us both in trouble wouldn’t it.”

“Well,” you start with a tilt to your head as your other hand not so quietly drops the can as you reach it up to mirror your other one on his other arm, “is there maybe a rule against you kissing me, you know just to stop us from flirting so much.”

You can admit you didn’t fully think through the actions that followed the words, hell you didn’t even think through the words, but when your hands slide past his shoulders and begin to tease and tug at the edge of his mask, you think you maybe took it a step too far.

You didn’t actually plan on lifting the mask up, you were just teasing and you know his identity was probably not something to play with, but your internal intentions do nothing to stop the way his muscles tense nor the flash of movement that has your head spinning.

You go to apologize, trying to wave your hands in front of you as you try to explain you were just kidding, but when you can’t lift them away from the flat surface behind you that they had knocked into from his rapid movements, you sputter in confusion.

You think your neck might snap from how quickly you look to the sides of you to see the white webbing that locks your wrists to the billboard, and when it clicks in your mind that you are in fact stuck, you gawk at him in shock.

“Hey man I was just playing,” your face warms in embarrassment, at you shake your head at your stupid actions. “I’m sorry I didn’t think it was such a touchy subject.”

“No, no, no,” he panickedly stutters, and reaches to free you before he rethinks and shrinks back, “I just panicked I um…. look I- fuck.”

You stare at him expectantly, shifting your shoulders and wiggling your fingers to try to be comfortable and make sure the web isn't cutting off your circulation, and once he deeply sighs and gives you a soft smile, you assume he’s collected his thoughts.

“Look, I want to take it off, I want to kiss you so bad I just,” he huffs as he reaches behind him to loosen the mask as start to pull it up and away, “just if you’re not interested after it comes off I get it.”

“I’m not that shallow,” you mutter, assuming regardless of being such a strong hero, he too must have his insecurities, but once the fabric is pulled from his face, dropped at your feet, and the man below it is revealed, you choke slightly on your saliva.

“Mark!?” you gasp out, the shock lapsing your memory as you try to move to remove your mask as well, but when you can’t move an inch you instead shake your head to try to knock it off, and the familiar face in front of you grins in endearment.

“What’s up dude?” he speaks so casually it has you reeling as he gently reaches up to pull the bands away from where they rested behind your ears, and as he lets you stew in your shock he gently folds the mask in half and sticks it under the spray paint can so it doesn’t blow away in the cold night air.

“What the fuck man, you’re Spider-Man?” you ask with a thrilled laugh at his familiar grin, totally forgetting for a moment you wanted to kiss him until he passed out.

He nods shyly in a way that cuts deep and reminds you of the last time you saw him.

You can’t lie and say you didn’t stare at him longingly on the last day of classes. He was just so cute and sweet you couldn't help but develop a silly crush on the quiet boy that sat beside you in class, but regardless of your weak heart, that didn’t stop your friends from teasing you every time you talked about him for just a minute too long or whenever they caught you from making gooey eyes at him from across the cafeteria. That teasing, and his shy demeanor, were probably the biggest reasons you never made a move on the guy.

You just always felt like you were too much for his nice clean image, and regardless of the way he’d smile ear to ear when you’d whisper to him for an answer to class work, you thought he could never feel for you the way you did for him. So he just became an image of admiration, and more embarrassingly an image of desire when you were alone with just your hand and your thoughts. Never in a million years did you think the wide eyed and soft toned boy you’d fallen so hard for would end up being a superhero known for amazing and unmatched strength.

“Yeah I probably should have said something when I first got up here huh?” he cringes slightly at the verbal realization and adverts his eyes from your amazed glare, “but you know I kept hearing about this new graffiti artist running around the city, and once I saw some of it for myself I immediately remembered the little doodles you’d leave on my notes when you’d borrow them. I knew it was you and I needed to find you.”

“Well you sure as hell found me,” you tug at the restraints around your wrists to drive your words home, and the bubbling laughter that rises between you makes your heart feel warm.

“Yeah sorry,” he hums, “I’m sorry for everything actually, but when we started bickering I just felt gross because I always really liked you, I thought I fucked it all up. But then it got flirty and, again I had such a huge crush on you I just got carried away.”

“You had a crush on me?” you ask in disbelief, feeling a weight of guilt on your heart when you realize you brushed past his apology.

“Yeah, really bad,” he admits and his ears start to burn a bright red that makes you smile, until he moves to try to unwind his web from your wrists, “sorry I get if this is all weird and ruined the moment.”

“Hey, hey,” you stop him from getting any closer by lifting up your foot and pushing it into the dip below his ribs gently, “it was shocking, and maybe a little weird yeah, but I don’t think it ruined any mood. Not for me at least.”

“It didn’t?” his head jerks forward and you smile when he reaches up and wraps both hands around your ankle to keep the sole of your shoe pressed tightly against him.

“Not at all,” you shake your head as your heart starts to hammer against your chest, “I mean considering I also had an immensely huge crush on you, I thought it was going to be the obligatory reveal before the dramatic kiss. I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“That you have,” he breaths out in disbelief, moving your foot to the side as he gets closer and making your leg hitch around his hip, “I can’t believe you liked me too.”

“I can’t believe we both liked each other and nothing came from it,” you shake your head as much as you can from the way his forehead now presses gently against your own, and you think your heart might leap from your throat from how his nose brushes against your own as he crowds your personal space.

“I think we might be idiots,” he grins at you and you can feel you body leaning into him as much as I can, and before you can respond in agreement, he presses his mouth softly against yours.

Kissing Mark is almost exactly the way you imagined it so many times before. He’s gentle and a bit apprehensive, but the slight chapped skin that lines the seam of his mouth pulls a rolling groan from your chest and even when your eyes flutter shut, the dancing lights of the city around you bleed through your eyelids and you feel warm regardless of the cool air.

His free hand travels down momentarily, wrapping around the bend of your leg and lifting it up until it mirrors the one curled around his hip.

Once you’re wrapped around him tightly, he lets the flat of his palms slide carefully up your thighs and his tongue prods at your lips and teeth until your jaw drops and you finally get a taste of him.

You don’t mean to jerk your hips towards him as roughly as you do, but when his arms wind around your waist and his hips press into you, you can feel the warmth in your belly grow.

He seems hesitant to pull away from your mouth. It takes a few tries for his lips to trail down, he takes a second about three times to get one last taste, but once he finally gains some self control, he starts to softly nip at the skin of your cheek, jaw, and jugular until finally sinking his teeth harshly into the soft skin at the side of your neck.

It takes you a second to realize the soft moan you hear is crawling from your throat, especially with the way he covers it with his own rumbling growl. You can’t imagine the damage he’s doing to your neck, but when one of his hands slips from behind you to push under the fabric of your shirt and up until it’s crawling under the fabric that covers your chest, your mind is cleared of concern for that and you're begging for some acknowledgment.

“You want to do this? Up here?” you ask and your voice shakes more than you’ve ever heard it before. The syllables come out as pants and huffs of warm breath and you squirm against him and your hand clench open and closed and you await his response.

He reluctantly pulls away, and you can feel the thin string of saliva that connects your skin to his eager tongue before he breaks it to speak, “what? Is the badass graffiti artist scared or something?”

“So much for the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” you say as sarcastically as you can before he pressed his mouth back onto yours. He chuckles quietly as his tongue licks into your mouth, your muffled grumbling entertaining him entirely too much.

You get a more solid answer than his teasing gave when his thumb brushes over the peak of your nipple, playing as gently as he can with the rough fabric of his suit covering his hands, before he turns to pinching it and tugging with his thumb and index finger. And the squeak you let out in response to the friction is rewarded with a bite to your bottom lip and him softly grinding his bulge into you and making your underwear stick slightly to your dampening skin.

“Mark,” you whine between the short breaks he gives you to breathe, “please, something.”

You don’t think you make sense, and how could you with the way he’s stirring around your brain, but he must have his senses turned up a few notches enough to realize your dangling on the edge of insanity.

He doesn’t take his lips and tongue away from you, but his hands move down together to tug roughly at the band of the dark sweatpants you wear. The elastic that keeps the fabric on your hips is tight enough that as his shifts them down your thighs, they pull your ruined underwear along with them.

It feels weird, and a little degrading, with the cold air licking at your skin. You’ve never been so out in the open in the way you are now, and when the fabric pools around your ankles, you can’t help but want to hide.

Your legs squirm around as they no longer have the job of being locked around his hips, and your heart starts to thud against your sternum when his fingers start to dance around the expanse of your trembling thighs. You think you might make a muscle cramp up from the way you tense everytime he dips to your inner thighs, and especially when they start to travel closer and closer to where you drop desperately for some form of attention, but when he shows a moment of hesitation, and pulls his hands away to inspect the texture of the part of the suit that stretches across his palms, you want to cry out.

“Don’t know,” he mutters to himself, and you can’t stop the way your chest deflates slightly at the thought of him having second thoughts, “probably might not be the most gentle thing I could use right now.”

He spreads his fingers out as he shows you his palm, expelling your worries as he admits to not wanting the texture of the suit to make you uncomfortable. He shrugs slightly once he drops his hand, but you still can’t help but feel like he might be backing out.

“There’s always another way right?” he asks rhetorically, the slight mischievous spark to his voice letting you know he’s glad to offer you his plan b, “it’s not like I haven’t wanted to do this for years anyways.”

You can’t question him before he’s dropping unceremoniously to his knees, his body just a whip of red as he uses his shoulders to nudge his way between your thighs. And regardless of the excited nerves that bounce through you at what he’s planning to do to you, you widen your stance as much as your restricted ankles will allow to give him more space to work.

“This is kind of a dream come true,” he says playfully as he looks up at you with wide eyes. You find it a little hard to believe how cute he looks staring up at you considering what he’s moments away from doing and how he kneads at your thighs with a strong grip. But if anyone could manage it would be him.

“What, going down on me or being Spider-man?” you try to hit back just as playfully, but your voice simply doesn’t have the same strength, and the fact he took the moment after he spoke to lick at the arousal that had smeared across your inner thigh, you feel any resolve you had dissolving before your eyes.

“Both,” he nods with a sureness and a glitter in his eyes, “at the same time. The universe must love me.”

You would have continued the banter, tried to give him a nice back and forth he could really chew on, but your mind goes completely blank as he shows he’s tired of waiting by laying his tongue flat against your skin.

The muscle is probably as strong as the rest of him, competing almost perfectly with the strength of his arms as they wind tightly around your legs. And he combines these amazing feats of strength to lap wildly at your arousal while pulling you tightly against his face.

You don’t know why you hesitate to cry out, it’s not like anyone can hear you from how high you two are in the air, but the sounds get stuck in your throat and your back arches painfully as he wiggles the muscle until it’s dipping inside of you and allowing him to taste all of you.

You can only offer whimpers and crackled whines as he soils his pretty face with the mess of you, your thighs tightening around the sides of his head and your nails digging into the thin skin of your palms as he all but smothers himself and maps your skin with his hands.

It’s when he wraps his lips tightly around your neglected clit and sucks strong enough to make you see stars that you finally break and let a whining Yelp of his name.

The image of the sweet boy who would let you cheat off him daily in class is demolished by the man that has you in his hold now. His quick tongue licking harsh and long swipes against you before pulling the bundle of nerves back between his lips so he can roll circles and shapes around it makes your mind turn to mush, and your thankful for the insanely strong webbing that holds you up, because otherwise you would have collapsed at the first taste of pleasure.

Your hips begin to rock against his face against your will, and your mind isn’t present enough to even consider offering an apology. But his heated breath against you, the deep groans he lets stimulate your body, and the way he moves fluidly with every move you make, shows that he’s enjoying himself just as much as you.

The tense knot in your stomach winds tighter and tighter the more he devours you, and from the sounds that spill off your tongue he must know better than you how close to the edge you teeter.

Your eyes lock onto his as you chance a glance down, and he smiles as much as he can against you with how relentless he is to your nerves. And as your bottom lip starts to quiver and your thighs start to shake in his grip, he quirks his eyebrows up quickly to encourage you to let go.

You take a shuttering intake of the cold city air into your lungs when he pushes you off the edge. The sounds of the city below you are so much clearer as pleasure zips up your spine and even through your clouded mind you think you feel a biting sting from your nails breaking skin on your palms.

Your head knocks back against the flat space behind you as he laps at you as shiver through your orgasm, your eyes rolling back painfully as he doesn’t let up even when the feelings that encapsulate you become overwhelming. It’s not until you start to whine and kick your legs does he pull away as agonizingly slow as possible.

He strokes gently at the skin of your lower belly, staring at the space between your legs and making you very aware of every atom around you as he looks at you with a fascinated tilt to his head. His fingers dimple your skin as they press and move across your flesh, and you can’t help for just a moment but to feel like he’s studying you like a newly discovered species.

“Mark,” you whisper down at him, a rattling cough coming out along with the word as your throat feels dried out from the gasping breaths you had to take. and his head tilts up so quickly, almost as if he forgot you were almost there.

He mumbles a quiet ‘sorry’ as he begins to stand, and to your confusion, he pulls your underwear and pants up and back around your hips along with him.

“Does the super suit cut off circulation down there or something?” you ask in a joking tone, but it doesn’t fully cover the confusion that lays over you from his seeming lack of interest in taking anything further. And when he looks sheepish but equally confused, you explain, “I mean do you not want me to return the favor or anything?”

He only smiles in response for a moment, instead reaching up to start to pick at the webbing that’s just now started to loosen around your wrists.

“Don’t worry about it,” he starts as his eyebrows scrunch together and his tongue pokes out from his lips in concentration, “I only have underwear on under this thing, and I can’t really, y’know, pull anything to the side.”

He shrugs and takes a break from picking at the webbing to look you in the eyes, and you think your heart might escape through your throat when he rests his forehead against yours.

There’s another moment of silence between you, but this time it lacks the awkwardness of earlier. It’s a silence of acknowledgment, of letting your minds catch up with what exactly just happened and the time that it took for something like this to happen between you two. But it only lingers for maybe a handful of seconds before he’s locking his lips onto your and happily humming into your mouth.

The taste of you is so prominent on his tongue it’s slightly jarring, and it would be a lie to say it doesn’t make something in your core stir up again. You wish desperately that the web would just finally fall away, because you can’t think of anything else you’d love to do more than run your fingers through his hair and pull him into you until you possibly formed into one being.

“You can still return the favor though,” he reassures as he gives you a moment to breathe and begins to softly brush his thumbs against the sides of your face as he cradles your jaw.

His smile grows even bigger when your face brightens, and he mutters something under his breath that you can’t fully make out, but you’d be too embarrassed to admit you knew it was something endearing about you being cute.

“Let me see you again,” he bumps his nose against your again, pecking you lips as gently as humanly possible, “you’re not someone you’re stupid enough to let go of twice, so give me your number and we’ll call it even.”

“How about you give me your number,” you retort, tugging on the slowly dissolving web when he has the audacity to look confused, “my phone should be in my pocket. I’ll give you my password and everything to put it in yourself. Because I’m not interested in letting go of you again either Spider-man.”