#other than maybe it started updating at some point during the night and the update got interrupted or was somehow incomplete?

[dontsh0vethesun]

misunderstandings

part five of home for christmas

natasha romanoff x reader

The hallmark movie inspired Christmas story that nobody asked for.

Natasha Romanoff fell out of love with Christmas, but perhaps a certain someone could help her find the festive magic once again.

Coming home to her small hometown from her life in New York City, the children’s author is reunited with the people of her past; some are happier to see her than others.

But, will rekindled relationships inspire the Christmas story she’s struggling to write? Or will she go home empty handed?

these gays are dumb, glimpses of the past, idiots in love, they’re actually just so stupid, christmas, probably too much dialogue

a/n- ik it’s not christmas anymore but there’s only one more part!! also my christmas was dookie so i’m letting myself take ages on this <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part six

wc: 3.6k

“I heard there’s an update on the Natasha situation,” Sam smiled, his grin was mischievous and you almost wish you weren’t so attuned to his compulsion to stick his nose into business that’s not his.

“Where’d you hear that?” you answered, directing a pointed look in Wanda’s direction whilst she worked on a coffee order.

“Don’t look at me,” she defended, raising her hands in surrender.

“I’m an intuitive guy,” Sam smirked in return. “I don’t need anyone to tell me, the weird look all over your face is all I need.”

“You need to be this invested in your own life,” you groaned. “Where’s James these days, huh?”

“I’m not falling for that trap,” Sam laughed. “What happened? What’re your feelings? Please tell me,” the man practically begged.

“Fine,” you conceded with a sigh, leaning against the counter whilst there was no line of customers needing your attention. “We bumped into her at the fair last night, that’s all.”

Your dismissive shrug on the topic was not enough to appease him, however, and the faux scowl he addressed you with was enough to let you know that he was aware of your downplaying of the situation.

“Alright, fine,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. “We talked a little and I’m still confused,” you surmised.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Did she apologise? Are there…butterflies? Give me something,” Sam pleaded. “I need to know whether to give her cookies laced with laxatives or not.”

You laughed at his seriousness - it may have happened a couple of times during high school but you all took an oath of secrecy.

“She didn’t apologise,” you frowned, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible lest you allow your apprehension on the topic to swallow you whole. “She seems different though. I want her, so badly, to be different. But maybe I’m stupid to hope for something - maybe we really just aren’t a good match.”

Sam’s eyes were soft and comforting, his lips parted to speak before another voice piped up opposite you. Kamala had arrived for her daily hot chocolate - extra whipped cream and marshmallows, of course. She takes the promise of free drinks for friends very liberally.

“As someone who’s been trying their hardest to be neutral,” she started. “You did look cute together last night - and the way she looks at you - God, it’s like a real-life rom-com. Kind of gross, actually,” she rambled on. “By the way, I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

“You weren’t?” You smirked, eyebrow twitching in question.

“No,” Kamala quickly replied with a shake of her head. “It was just, uh, intuition.”

“Wow, you might have a superpower there, Mala,” you scoffed laughingly.

“Really though, it definitely seemed like there was something there - on both sides.”

“I dunno,” you sighed with an exasperated shake of your head, cheeks flooding with heat at the three pairs of eyes witnessing your bashful feelings towards a certain redhead. Whether you hide it or not, all of your closest friends have developed a certain sense of reading between the lines painfully well. After all of these years, you suppose it’s merely a trait of a strongly entwined bond. It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though.

“At the risk of forcing you into a ‘mushy and embarrassing’ state, as you call it,” Wanda voiced from beside you. “What are you feeling about her now? You were pretty good at avoiding my questions last night,” she smiled with a poke of her finger into your side.

It was a tricky feat for you to let yourself be raw and vulnerable, it never is a comfortable thing. But, with a problem you were struggling to make sense of on your own paired with the sickeningly sweet and supportive smiles directed your way, it was harder to keep it all in than let it out.

“It - it kinda feels like before. Like, no time has passed, y’know?”

“In a good way?” Kamala asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I dunno, it’s like, somehow, all of those things I felt towards her all those years ago had never actually left. Like they were just sitting there in my stomach waiting for the right time to come back out.”

“It kinda sounds like you know what you wanna do then,” Sam smiled.

“I think I might,” you nodded. You tried to smile but the nerves that made their way throughout your body made it difficult and, as though it was written all over your face, your friends seemed to know just what to do to bring that smile out. You were pulled into Wanda’s familiar hug with Sam closing his arms around you from the other side and with some difficulty you were manoeuvred into Kamala’s reach. It was hard not to laugh at the glimpse you caught of her, leaning across the counter, practically kneeling on a plate of cookies nearby as she stretched out to join the embrace.

Whatever happens next, they’ll be there for you.

—

Meanwhile, Yelena sat cross-legged on Natasha’s childhood bed whilst her sister lay on her back with her eyes directed at the ceiling. She could still see the mark left behind from the glow-in-the-dark stickers you’d struggled to plaster up there, ones that had slowly begun to fall down. She’d never had the heart to throw them away and the used and tattered celestials still sat in the drawer of her desk.

“This is exhausting, Natasha,” the blonde groaned. Having been witness to it all from the beginning, watching it all play out as it has has been nothing short of tedious for her. She’s never been patient and this was no different. In her trademark Yelena fashion, she resents the long and drawn-out trail of feelings being muddled up and left behind, she would rather you both get on with it.

“You don’t think I know that?” her sister sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated,” Yelena mocked in a less-than-perfect impression of Natasha’s voice. “What’s so difficult, huh? You’ve always had the hots for her, she’s always ogled you, it’s simple.”

“It’s a little more nuanced than that,” she mumbled. “So much time has passed and I made a stupid mistake. I left her behind, Lena. I just left and didn’t come back - she deserves better than somebody who’d just do that.”

“You were stupid,” Yelena agreed. She didn’t let her role as Natasha’s sister blur the lines between right and wrong, when it came to what she did she didn’t shy away from berating her.

She remembered the evening it happened, the redhead coming home in tears that were a rare sight to see. She held a book in her hand that was soon shoved to the back of her wardrobe to never see the light again; she comforted her sister as best as she could but by the time she’d unmuddled the series of events Natasha was already gone. She’d made plenty of phone calls telling her sister to come and make it right but the fear had sunk its claws in and nothing she said swayed it in her favour.

“I know I was - I know. But, when I saw her that night with Pietro it just looked so real. I think I was looking for a reason to chicken out of telling her, y’know?”

“And letting yourself believe she was already dating someone was easier than her rejecting you,” Yelena nodded. She understood her sister’s reasonings no matter how illogical they truly are.

“Yeah,” she nodded with a sigh. “I mean, she’s so perfect, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d been lucky enough to date her. I saw it, so why wouldn’t somebody else?”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to listen but you know I can’t help myself,” Melina suddenly announced from the doorway. Of course, she’d decided to come upstairs just as a ‘confidential’ conversation was occurring. “You never told me all this.”

“That’s because you’re a gossip,” Natasha groaned, sitting up against her headboard whilst her mother took a seat on the bed too.

“I just like knowing things,” she shrugged. “So, tell me what happened.”

“Fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at the clear excitement on Melina’s face. “So, it was Christmas Eve, the first one after starting college. At that point, it was like we were still in high school, we were all in contact and we were all meeting up on the weekends - nothing had changed.”

“Mhm, I remember,” Melina nodded. “I was scared you were all gonna drift apart, well, until you were the one that separated from them.”

“Yeah,” Natasha sighed with a frown. “So, we were all here and I’d had a lot of time to think. I mean, I was at a different college - she was at the same one as the Maximoff’s - and, it was a lot of time without her. It gave me a lot of time to think about her, it was so different not having her at my side all the time, y’know? So it made me realise that I just had to suck it up and be honest with us both about how I feel about her.”

“I think you two were the only ones not to know,” Melina muttered beneath her breath, earning an agreeing laugh from Yelena.

“Anyway,” she scowled. “I guess it was something I was always trying to avoid. I didn’t want it to ruin the friendship we had but it got so hard to ignore. All of my assignments - the stories I’d write - they all ended up being about her. It was like all of the feelings I tried so hard to ignore were just forcing their way out like they were too big to keep down.”

She took a breath and cleared her throat, blushed at the mere thought of you and let the comfort of her mother’s hand on her arm urge her to carry on.

“I wrote her this story - it seems so silly now,” she scoffed. “It was so cheesy - the kind of thing we’d make fun of - but I couldn’t help myself. I illustrated it and wrapped a red bow around it - it was hideous but I knew it’d make her smile. And, on Christmas Eve, I made my way to where I knew she’d be.

“God, just remembering it is so ridiculous. I don’t know why I let myself get in my head,” she grumbled with a shake of her head. “She was there, sitting in the quiet part of the town square, but she was only there with Pietro. Looking back, I know that Wanda must’ve been on her way but in that moment nothing was logical.

“I stood there, just looking at her for a second. I watched her laugh and I remember being amazed that my heart truly did feel like it skipped a beat - I always thought that was just some cliche until her. And as I stood there just watching, I saw Pietro point to this piece of mistletoe hanging above them. I thought it was funny at first and carried on walking to them but then his hand was on her cheek and in my mind that was enough to make me turn back around. I suppose I thought that, in the time they’d had together whilst I’d been away, they’d - I dunno - realised feelings?”

“Oh, Natasha,” Melina whispered.

“I know. It was stupid - it was probably just some joke but I was so scared. You know I’ve never been the kind of person to wear their heart on their sleeve and that was the perfect out my brain was looking for.”

“You caused yourself so much pain, honey. So much pain you didn’t need because you feared she didn’t feel the same?”

“I suppose so,” she nodded. “I thought that, maybe, if she was happy it was enough. So, I went back to college and left it all behind. I felt awful, I did, but I wanted to keep myself away for both of our sakes. If I wasn’t there, she could get on with her life and I could try and move on. I put all of my focus into studying and then into my work - I found that pushing away all of those things that hurt me would just shield me from coming to terms with things.

“So, the friendship I tried to protect was ruined because of me. Because I was scared.”

“But now? How are things with her this time?”

“I think - I know that I still adore her. And, if she’ll have me, I would want nothing more than to just let her know how I’ve felt for all my life.”

—

Before Natasha had begun to associate Christmas with the ache in her heart, the 24th of December was a treasured occasion.

The group of you had always met up, sneaking eggnog from her parent’s fridge when you were younger, sharing it around with sips from a shared glass around a makeshift fire you’d conjure up in the garden. The cup would be passed around in secrecy and clumsily hidden beneath a blanket when an adult would approach.

As you grew closer, the two of you began to uphold a tradition and for the couple of years leading up to her departure, you’d meet up before the remainder of the group arrived. She’d meet you at the cafe with two hot chocolates in hand and she’d offer you her jacket no matter what; she always did and you always declined but it made your cheeks hot to the touch. She’d always refrain from reaching out to feel the warmth beneath her palm.

You’d walk back to her house taking the long route just to savour one another's company and neither of you would think too much about the hand she’d rest on your back whenever you’d cross the road.

You’d sit beneath the decorated canopy in the middle of town, watching people enjoy the festivities, failing to hold in your amusement when people would slip on icy ground. She’d look up at the mistletoe and swear she’d kiss you beneath the winter sprig one day, that she’d use it as one of her many excuses to press her lips to yours. She would imagine that you’d tell her she didn’t need a reason to kiss you, that she could do it whenever she liked, but she’d find any moment she could to feel your lip balm-coated mouth with the tip of her tongue.

The one year you had forgotten your gloves and, for practicality of course, she linked her hand with yours for warmth and left it there until she was leading you up to her front door. You’d help her mother with preparations for the evening’s party whilst Natasha would smile at the close relationship the two of you shared. And when the rest of the invitees would trickle in, she’d revel in your laugh. The one you’d let out at something Kate or Kamala would say when recounting the goings on of their days and the giggle you’d share with Wanda whilst having hushed conversations in the corner.

…

The last Christmas Eve you’d seen Natasha until this year, was the same as always. You were planning on meeting Natasha at your usual spot, only an hour after leaving the Maximoff twins where they were.

You sat with Pietro whilst Wanda made her way back with a cup of hot tea for herself and a latte for her brother; they were meeting up with Monica and Carol before the annual party and you were waiting with them until it was time for you to go. You’d told them you had some last-minute shopping to do and they bought the excuse - you felt rather smug at your deception and were pleased to keep your tradition with Natasha a secret. It wouldn’t be the same if it turned into a group affair - you didn’t admit that you merely wanted her for yourself. Even if it was for only a couple of hours.

You missed the teasing grin on Pietro’s face when he’d spotted the mistletoe above you and only realised what he was doing when he tugged it from its place and held it above your faces.

“Ew, Pietro,” you’d laughed, shoving him away whilst he faked a warm look your way.

“There’s something I simply must say,” he joked, cupping your cheek with a soft hand. He inched closer and closer whilst you held in your laugh, acting into the joke of a scene he was creating. “I- wow, this is hard to say,” he sighed. “I just need you to know that - that I forgot to get you a gift and just added my name to Wanda’s.”

You gasped before you both laughed.

“That actually better be a joke.”

You waited for Natasha until you got a text saying she was stuck helping her mum and the rest of the evening was sullied with some kind of unspoken melancholy that you could not understand.

…

Two weeks ago, Natasha was called into her editor’s office to be given the task of creating a winter story. She listened to the requirements she was expected to reach; a heartfelt children’s book, the wonder of winter with a happy ending.

It wasn’t something she was overly familiar with anymore. The magic of the season had long left her when she left you and, though she accepted the job, she was unsure of how to complete it. Her books always held a part of her, every story she wrote had a piece of her soul bared throughout the pages.

She’d gone home and began to plan, sipping a glass of red wine whilst her laptop screen remained blank.

After a few days of sitting on the problem she’d been presented with, and a lengthy conversation with her closest friend in New York, she thought it time to visit home. After all of this time away she thought she could go back easily enough, feelings may have been dulled and the town that was the epitome of a winter wonderland would fuel her creativity.

She just didn’t expect to take one look at you and have every feeling she’d ever held for you to come flooding to the surface. It was quite a story indeed.

And, though she was apprehensive at first, she’d found that opening up the warm-hearted part of her that she had forced closed many moons ago was just the spark she needed. She’d found inspiration at home - her true home. She found it with you.

…

Your heart was beating with the buzz of nerves in your chest, stomach swarming whilst your palms grew clammy despite the biting cold that came with the slowly falling snow.

Each step up the Romanoff’s driveway drew you closer to a conversation that made your head blurred. It had taken the entire group of your friends to give you the courage to leave your apartment for this; despite the way it was your decision to confess the feelings that were eating you whole, you were the one holding yourself back.

After much convincing, you bit the bullet to finally let yourself pull your heart from your chest and hand it over. They’d all assured you they were a phone call away no matter what happens.

You almost dared to turn back as soon as your knuckles tapped against the translucent window of the front door; you could see the blurry sight of a Christmas wreath against the glass and you could hear Yelena shout that she would answer the knock.

“Oh, hi,” she smiled as soon as she saw you, taking in your nervous appearance.

“Hi, Yelena,” you returned. “Um, is Natasha here?”

“No, actually,” she answered. “She went for a walk - think she said she might be going to the bar. You might be able to catch up with her if you hurry.”

“Alright, thanks, Lena,” you smiled. “See you tomorrow,” you finished with a wave.

“See you tomorrow,” she smirked, clearly planning to go and conspire with Melina about why you might be looking for her sister.

It wasn’t a particularly long walk, and the few minutes it took only enabled you to think about what you were going to say. You had it planned as perfectly as you could get it, a curated script you hoped she’d conform with. You’d risk making a fool of yourself otherwise, treading with the possibility of letting your butterfly inducing feelings for her get the best of you.

And, when you saw the bar ahead of you it only made your heart hit against your chest even faster. You saw the back of her head through the window, hair plaited and falling against her jacket; somehow, just seeing her, made your steps grow almost up to speed with your heart.

You opened the door into the bustling building, making your way past a few people with the subtle scent of beer lingering in the air.

You saw her before she saw you. The large grin that pulled at her eyes was directed elsewhere, though, and the hug she stood up to take part in was not with you. Her body locked with another woman’s, somebody she was familiar with by the way it lingered. Her cheek was kissed and her smile never wavered and your heart that had been beating so quickly you feared it might explode was now still, sitting in your throat as you swallowed thickly.

They shared large smiles and their hands entwined atop the small wooden table.

You couldn’t see anymore. Your fists clenched at your sides and you left as quickly as you arrived, not sparing a glance backwards. If you couldn’t be with her tonight, you wanted to be alone.

[octopineslime]

Baby Girl

Natsu was never someone who would think deeply and far ahead of his life. He was more than content to live in the present, enjoying food, brawls and going on dangerous missions with his Fairy Tail family day by day.

But he did give some thoughts about the future during the dead of some nights, when he's brimming with too much restless energy to sleep and Lucy strictly forbade his entry to her apartment for some sort of "girl nights"(urg, he wouldn't dare enter the dubbed danger zone during those time willingly either, less he wanted to be beaten black and blue by a certain scary scarlet head).

Fairy Tail was no doubt the one big and only family he would fight to death to protect, and everyone was always very welcoming and protective of one another despite coming from all walks of life. But inside the one big family, there would be smaller family units that hold certain members closer than others to their hearts, and these groups would become inseparable, irreplaceable with their core members given the utmost trusting and loving bond they shared.

He could definitely see those existed in the Connell family, the Conbolt father-son duo, and even in the bond shared between a certain metal-eating freak, his Exceed and their resident script mage. For a while, the fire dragonslayer could only see himself carrying this bond with his trusty, blue Exceed, and he was content with that.

But then Lucy, with her golden and buxom appearance, sassy and no-nonsense attitude, starry heaven magic and too big of a kind heart, came falling into his life and the transition of his family of duo turned into trio was so natural and seamless that he couldn't bear remembering a time before this beautiful, sunshine girl.

With the celestial mage by his side, his future now looked brighter and more exciting with countless adventures awaiting them to embark on as it's always more fun when they're together. And the idea of settling down sounded both daunting and appealing at the same time, as he knew that was what he wanted eventually in a near point of future, given how solid and fulfilling his and Lucy's relationship now going strong for 3 years as romantic partners among the 6 years of friendship.

Both he and Lucy shared the same idea of having a big family, maybe 2-3 kids, given how lonely it had for him to survive alone in the wilderness within the brief period after Igneel's disappearance and before Gramps found him; and the painful abandonment Lucy experienced as an only child without a loving mother and a grief-stricken father.

Natsu always thought his firstborn would be a son, not because of stupid prejudiced thoughts that boys were better than girls, but more so because he felt he could bond with the boy the same way Igneel had with him. He would teach the youngling how to harness and control his dragon fire, assuming that the kid took after his magic, how to fight and win a brawl (definitely when against the droopy-eyed ice princess kids), and to take him on fishing trips, missions and hunting escapades not only for father-son bonding time, but also for the child to hone his survival instinct and skills, and become stronger so one day he could protect his family and friends on his own.

And that excitement grew larger the rounder Lucy's belly got, carrying the proof of their love after a year into their marriage. It always fascinated him how a woman's body could hold and carry around the entire weight of a human being inside, no magic could hold the candle to this and this is amazing, his Lucy was amazing!

Whenever they were out, Natsu's arm was hardwired to automatically wound around his wife's waist, both to readily protect her and their unborn child from any dangers and to feel the heated warmth radiated from the baby bump against his palm just to assure the child were there. And when Lucy told him the baby could start hearing as their ears are now developed, courtesy to Polyusica's update from the celestial mage's bi-weekly pregnancy check-up, Natsu and Happy would start babbling to the baby bump about the guild, their teammates, the adventures Team Natsu had gone on. and the plans he had for the child when they came out, etc. as Lucy lovingly stroked his hair and pet between Happy’a ears as she listened to them.

They opted not to discover the baby's gender during the pregnancy, wanting to be surprised when the time came. On nights they laid in each other's arms, the couple would discuss about the possible names for their baby, often ended up with giggles or exasperated huffs from Lucy as the ridiculous names Natsu would come up with (no offense to Happy, but who would name their kid Happy Jr?!)

In the end, they decided to go with Nasha Layla Dragneel for the girl, and Igneel Jude Dragneel for the boy, in honoring of their late parents. Everything was going in the right direction and Natsu couldn't wait for the arrival of their child.

And the time finally came in the form of Lucy shriek and his too numb hand from the insanely tight grip of his wife as she giving birth. The guild resident fire dragon slayer had never liked to see his celestial mage in pain, even if it was because of their child, and he could only helplessly whisper soothing words into her ears and prayed for the quick process.

A piercing wail finally echoed the infirmary as Wendy rushed to clean and swaddle the baby in a blanket. Natsu was stunned to hear Wendy congratulated them on the beautiful baby girl and his brain took some times to proceed the information. He dazedly watched Lucy cradled their daughter close, and smiled those radiant smiles of her that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. Happy, now allowed in the infirmary, hovered over Lucy and the bundle as his eyes sparkled with starry wonder as he took in his sibling.

He only snapped out when Lucy turned and asked him if he wanted to hold their Nasha. The pinkette could only dumbly nod as he shakily formed his hand into the practiced form as Lucy passed the baby to him.

The moment his daughter laid in his arms, Natsu’s heart were instantly overwhelmed with the feeling of love and gratitude as he cradled his baby girl close to his chest. Nasha seemed to take a liken to his abnormal body heat as she subconsciously squirmed closer and his heart swelled with adoration.

He could see wisps of pink hair adorned her head and the moment she opened her eyes to show the world her murky but undoubtedly brown orbs so similar to the woman he loved, right then and there he decided that she was the most beautiful baby girl in all Fiore. Any objections could eat his flaming fist to their face.

At that moment, he decided that any baby of his and Lucy was absolutely perfect and he would lay his life down to protect and ensure they had the best life as possible.

***

It had been a few months after Nasha’s birth and life had been eventful to say the least to the first-time parents. Despite the heavy bags hung under their bloodshot eyes due to the lack of sleep from their daughter wailing (that girl sure had the lungs of a dragon), and the fret to discover the causes, Natsu wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the warmth and fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever he looked or held his baby girl.

Nasha was now laying on his broad chest, his large palm anchored her tiny form to his as they laze on the bed with the warm afternoon light filtered through the bedroom window and basked their form. Happy had left for the guild to spend time with a certain white cat that had now warmed up to his advances.

Looking at the pudgy and rosy cheeks of his cute daughter, Natsu couldn’t help but lightly prodded and pinched the doughy flesh for his own amusement. Not liking the teasing from her father, Nasha’s doe brown orbs started growing glassy as her tiny mouth formed the beginning of a wailing.

“Shh, don’t cry Nasha, please don’t cry baby girl, Daddy’s only kidding. Shh, go back to sleep” Natsu immediately shushed his daughter by rubbing her back gently and pressing kisses to her wispy pink hair. His nose inhaled her heavenly baby smell and the subtle mixed scent of his and Lucy, and his body subconsciously relaxed and heated comfortably to calm the baby down.

He must have dosed off briefly as his sense woke up from the gentle combing on his scalp and the familiar scent of camellia and star dust filled his nose. Natsu opened his eyes to take in the pleasant visual of his beautiful wife smiling lovingly down at them as she whispered “Hey Daddy and Baby, I’m home. Do you mind if I join in the napping session?”

Opening his unoccupied arm invitingly, Lucy crawled into the bed to lay on his biceps as her dainty hands joined his on top of Nasha’s snoozing form.

As he curled his arm and pulled his wife tighter to the side, Natsu exhaled contently as he couldn’t help but think he was the luckiest bastard in the world to have two beautiful and loving girls in his arms.

He really wouldn’t trade anything in the whole world for this.

[reorientation]

zyn anon. sorry again for the long ass updates I shall stop unless I get pregnant lmao.

speaking of, have more faith in me 😭 Ive been playing it mostly safe. kinda. I don't have to stop smoking and i dont want to 😒 and all this is mostly reversible unless he gets me pregnant, so I'm a lil more cautious. and im not pregnant i checked a few days ago, not because of a pregnancy scare but just paranoia lol im definitely a dumb whore tho. we've discovered he has a breeding kink. LMAO. lol. im so fucked

anyway so, as it turns out I was right about lacking self control.

he went on a camping trip for a few days, and i was really pent uppp and so was he lol. and when i came over to his place, almost immediately horny brain took over. we just started kissing on the couch, and took it to his room. thankfully his roommates still on holiday. i got so desperate and pathetic, i begged him to fuck me even though no iud yet. he was definitely enthusiastic lol. he only took his pants off enough to take his cock out. he also ripped my panties 😒 he went to grab a condom from the night stand,

he was like "gotta play it safe now aha" and i was like

"no. go bare. 🗿"

he didn't even question it, i was so wet and i felt how easily his cock slid on me before entering.

he only ever went raw a handful of times even before my failed vow of celibacy. since he thought it was dumb for me to get plan B even if he swore he didn't cum at all in me. other than that one time. he'd tell me when he's close, and immediately pull out to finish on me.

but this time it was so primal, being skin to skin and that bare and close was insane. he had a hand on my hip, and he'd basically pull me back down on his cock but fuck lol it just felt so strong. we stopped at one point, i was still all the way on his cock and on top of his lap but no riding. is that cockwarming?

idk but I want to do it again. i felt his dick like. move inside of me during that. all we did was make out but it was way too hot.

anyway, he pushed me on my back and told me he was close, as predicted, I told him to cum in me. he asked if I was sure and not only did i beg him to cum in me.

i told him to get me pregnant 😭

i wasn't thinking properly and I got scared immediately after saying it. i was worried it was gonna put him out of the mood but it did the opposite 😭😭 he asked smth like "oh, you wanna have my kids?" and omfg he kept mumbling about it. telling me to take it all deep, telling me hes gonna get me pregnant.

i came so hard, and only with penetration. it was such a weird feeling, and before i could become rational and tell him its just a prank. pull out. it was over, he came in me while mumbling about knocking me up 😭😭 i was short circuiting lol. and it was different than last time. it felt more shakey, and he kept doing these small thrusts after I think most of his cum was already pressed deep, and then he just settled all in me. he was soft by the time he pulled out, i was way too hazed out ngl

he came a lot. some started to drip down when he pulled out, and i felt him finger it back in me.

he said he didnt nut the whole trip, and was saving his cum for me. he knew id be too horny and impulsive to make good decisions. 😒.

as it turns out, he has a big thing for breeding, but was scared to tell me incase i took it a bad way.

im terrified of having a partner who gets off on the idea of getting me pregnant but I can't stay away.

i complained that id have to wake up so early to run out and get plan B, and buying it will be expensive.

so he told me to just not get it then. and I'm like .. well .. I'm not on any birth control and im full of cum .. like maybe risking it be a bad idea. ironically, like you had once suggested, he suggested I leave it up to chance.

I did take plan B after. twice lol. im still really anxious, but incredibly horny and I didn't know both could exist at once

he's arrogant now too. ill go over after work and when we're about to fuck, ill ask him to wrap it. and he's like "nah, don't feel like it tonight". he also threw out his condoms. but even if i bring my own he doesn't use them 😒

my birthcontrol method was to start riding him when he's about to get close, and pull off before he's about to cum. but he caught on and now just grinds me down on him as he's cumming

i told him about my detrans kink and he leans heavyy in it. or he probably is just an actual straight man. he reminds me daily that he can't believe i ever thought i was a boy. he doesnt even say it in a kinky way like he just means it. lol :/

im pretty much always thinking about it. everytime he finishes in me, im stuck dripping his cum for two days, and im still paranoid that ill be carrying more than just his cum from this blip up lol. and also, you taught me more about post nut clarity right. he told me to risk it maybe half an hour after he came. surely hed have post nut clarity and not actually want a baby, right?its weird to feel fear and horny at the same time.

(Previously)

have more faith in me 😭

-

I told him to cum in me. he asked if I was sure and not only did i beg him to cum in me. i told him to get me pregnant 😭

Oh, I certainly have faith in you, Anon. I know you're going to do just what you're supposed to. 🖤

Come on, sweetheart. Do you really expect to make it out of this without him putting a baby in you? You begged for him to knock you up, took a week's worth of his cum in your unprotected pussy, and then just lay there blissed out and hazy while he made sure every drop ended up inside you.

Sure, you took Plan B afterwards. But now he knows what kind of girl you are, and that you won't stop him from keeping you full of his cum. Sooner or later, you'll be ovulating, and you'll conceive for him.

And that makes you dripping wet, doesn't it? Knowing that your straight boyfriend, who never thought of you as anything except a girl, is doing his damnedest to give you a baby bump. That you already came off T for him, and now you're taking his load in your fertile pussy whenever he tells you to.

When the day of your IUD appointment comes, I hope he just holds you down and fucks his cum into you, instead of letting you go. Clearly, he'd be justified: you can't possibly claim to be a reliable source on what you really want.

You thought you wanted to be a boy, but you eagerly turned back into a girl the minute a straight man got his cock into you. You thought you wanted to be safe, and then you begged for him to knock you up. Hell, you thought Zyns were worth whoring yourself out for, and you don't even like them. Why should he think that not wanting to have his babies is the one way you really know your mind?

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part one: "The Night You Met"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader [Series Masterlist]

Summary: You have a bad Monday back at work and grab a few drinks at a nearby bar with a co-worker who takes the opportunity to have a certain attractive lawyer buy you a drink.

Or

How you meet Matthew Murdock and then repeatedly embarrass yourself.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: So I'm finally sharing a few of these installments on tumblr, but I've been posting them on AO3 since the beginning of the year. Currently there are 74 parts posted on AO3 (almost 300k words total) and still counting. I update this series a few times a week and I figured I'd finally share a few installments here and maybe, eventually, post them all on tumblr? Please heed the warnings--there is a ton of sex later in this series (y'all who've read it know what I'm talking about) and some hurt/no comfort for a bit later during what I deemed Big Angst. If you haven't heard of this series, I certainly hope you enjoy it!

Tapping your fingers lightly against the cold bottle in your hands, your eyes fixed on your beer, you blew out a rough breath. Classic rock was playing in the dimly lit dive bar, a random one you and Katy had last minute ducked inside after work. Neither of you had been here before but after the rough Monday back at work, both of you were dying for a drink and it didn't really matter where.

"I feel like I'm chasing a goddamned dead-end," you complained, glaring at the half-finished beer. 

"Maybe you need a new angle?" Katy suggested. 

She threw back the rest of her beer from her place beside you before raising a hand, flagging down the surly bartender. The older woman behind the bar headed back towards you both and Katy ordered another drink. 

You were lost in thought for a moment, focusing on the story Ellison had been telling you to drop for over a week now. Running a hand through your hair exasperatedly, you picked up your beer in your other hand and took a long pull from the bottle. Your head was buzzing from more than just the alcohol in your system as you swallowed the drink down. 

"Didn't Ellison give you a new piece today?" Katy asked, her attention returning to you when the new beer was set in front of her.

"Yeah," you answered her with an eye roll. "Fluff piece on the local animal shelter. Which, don't get me wrong," you said, raising a hand, "I love dogs and all, but I'm not really in this to write about dogs. I didn't bust my ass to get onto The Bulletin to write fluff." You sighed, eyeing Katy beside you. "What's he got you working on now?"

"That warehouse murder last night," she answered.

"Fuck," you grumbled, slamming your head to the bar counter. Immediately you regretted the action, raising your head and pulling a face as you rubbed at the sticky dampness the bar counter had left behind. "Ugh," you grunted. "I'm on his shit list this month, aren't I?"

"Yup," Katy answered bluntly. "You know he doesn't like any of us chasing dangerous stories about mobsters after…everything that happened a little while back."

You groaned in frustration before picking up your beer and finishing the last dregs of it. Katy nudged you abruptly in the arm, just about causing you to spill the beer. You swallowed, turning to shoot her a pointed look. 

"Isn't that Karen Page?" she whispered, gesturing her head towards the blonde at the pool table. "The one everyone whispered about saying Ellison supposedly fired her because she might know Daredevil's identity?"

Your eyes turned to the pool table, examining the blonde who was laughing with two other gentlemen. "Yeah, looks like her," you answered. 

"Now she had some good shit she wrote," Katy said with a grin. "You know, before Ellison started doling out pieces on animal shelters."

Your eyes returned to your empty beer, but Katy continued to stare at the pool table, fingers drumming on the bar.

"Maybe we should stop talking about work," you said. "The point of grabbing a drink was to forget about this shitty Monday. I'm currently not forgetting."

"Mmm, I wouldn't mind forgetting about my Monday by getting underneath him," Katy replied, her eyes still on the pool table as she gestured her beer towards someone.

You glanced back over, your eyes landing on the man drinking back a beer with Karen Page. It was obvious Katy was drooling over the dark haired gentleman with the red glasses and cane. His jawline was perfect, his hair practically begging to have fingers run through it, his body clearly well-built under that tight dress shirt with buttons tempted to pop when he moved just right, and he had an absolutely breathtaking smile.

"Isn't that Murdock from Nelson, Murdock, and Page?" Katy said after a moment, her eyes narrowing. "They're the guys who took down Fisk. Shit, he's hotter in person." When you didn't respond, Katy glanced back at you, eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. "Is your silence you disagreeing about that man’s perfection?"

You shook your head, your eyes landing back on the man. It almost seemed like he was looking at you and Katy at the bar, but considering he was blind, that would have been impossible.

"He's attractive, yeah," you agreed with a shrug. 

Katy's eyes widened at you. "Really? That's it? That guy looks like sex on legs and I'm pretty sure I've heard rumors that he is amazing in bed and…that’s all you’ve got?"

"Your point?" you asked.

"Are you serious right now?" she asked in disbelief. "You wouldn't want a night with that guy?"

You let out a heavy breath, your eyes returning to the now empty bottle of beer as you debated on another or just going home and making dinner and writing that pointless article for Ellison.

"I wouldn’t know what to even say to a guy like that," you muttered. "You know outside of interviews I am shit with human interaction."

Katy chuckled lightly before shaking her head. "You do have a knack for being awkward. But you wouldn't need to say anything, just let him fuck you senseless as you're screaming his name on your back." 

Katy abruptly threw out some light, breathy fake moans that had you slapping her arm sharply and your face burning up. 

"Pretty sure you could handle that ," she teased you with a light laugh. 

"You're a fucking animal," you joked, burying your reddening face in your hands.

"You're thinking about it though," she shot back. 

You glanced at the man between your fingers, face still buried in your hands. He was holding a beer in one hand as something that looked like a smirk broke across his face. He was standing by the pool table, his gaze in your direction as his friends focused on the game they were playing. Your heart sped up at the thought of him throwing you onto your bed and you swore you saw his lips pull up even higher before you turned away. 

"Would literally never happen," you mumbled. "Guys who look like that don't talk to chicks like me." 

"Sexy and awkward?" Katy supplied. 

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Only one of those is an accurate description," you replied. "Anyway, I should probably get back. Make dinner and slam my head into the wall repeatedly as I write that piece for the next issue."

"Or you could stay and see if you're awkward enough to scare away Hell’s Kitchen’s sexiest lawyer," Katy suggested with a playful grin. "Maybe end up finding God on your back."

She opened her mouth and got out one moan before you kicked her shin. 

She laughed, waving a hand at you. "Alright, fine. Let me chug this and I'll leave, too. I've got a lead I need to check out tonight anyway."

You watched her raise the beer to her lips and toss it back, downing the last half of the bottle before slamming it to the counter. You slid off the bar stool and turned to leave only to run head first into someone. You stumbled backwards muttering out an 'oh shit' as your back hit the bar counter, and then your eyes went wide when you saw it was the attractive lawyer you and Katy had just been talking about.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't see you there," you blurted out an apology. 

"Neither did I," he answered, a grin spreading across his mouth. 

"Right, because you're…" you trailed off quickly realizing how rude it would be to point out his disability. 

Katy appeared just beside him, her eyes going wide as she gawked at you, shaking her head sharply. 

"Blind?" the man finished for you. 

Your cheeks burned as you awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He was somehow even more attractive up close and he had a nice, deep voice. For a moment you couldn't help but imagine him on top of you in your bed again and your heart stuttered in your chest.

"And I'm tactless," you breathed out. "Sorry, I didn't mean to literally run into you and then be completely rude. I'm just going to go," you said quickly, trying to skirt around him.

"Or you could buy her a drink," Katy blurted.

Your eyes widened as you stared open-mouthed at her, entirely taken aback. Katy shot you a look, shrugging a shoulder. The man chuckled, the sound drawing your attention back to him beside you. He was grinning in your direction and you internally groaned.

"You want me to buy your friend a drink?" he asked curiously.

Your eyes narrowed to a glare at Katy as you quickly answered him. "She's kidding," you told him. "You know, just a bad joke ," you said, the last two words coming out at Katy between gritted teeth. 

"Well," the man mused, "I may not be opposed to the idea."

Your palms immediately began to sweat as Katy sent you a wicked grin. Your heart was thundering wildly in your chest as you chanced a glance back at him. He looked entirely calm and collected as he stood there with a charming smile on his face.

“That’s uh, that’s nice and all, but I actually have work to finish tonight–”

“No you don’t,” Katy cut in sharply, eyes narrowed. “You could write that article in thirty minutes with your hands tied behind your back using only your tongue. You don’t have work.”

The man whose first name you were still unaware of chuckled good-naturedly beside you at Katy’s words. “I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, but that sounds like quite the talent you have,” he teased.

Katy snickered loudly as you audibly groaned, shrinking back into yourself. This was easily the most humiliated you had felt in a long time. 

She turned towards the man next and pointedly told him, “She had a bad day, she’d love another drink.” And then her attention returned to you, a sly grin on her face as she said, “Now I actually have a lead to follow up with. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She proceeded to mouth ‘you’re welcome’ before she turned and left.

You were torn between trying to chase after her and feeling obligated to converse with this insanely attractive man who was for some reason giving you the time of day. You were tightly gripping the strap of your crossbody bag with indecision as you stood there uncomfortably. Thankfully he spoke and broke the awkward tension.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked, gesturing towards the bar beside you both. “You could maybe tell me your name?” he suggested. “And why you’re having such a bad Monday?”

“Look,” you began, “you really don’t have to. She was just being a pain in my ass thinking that she was–” You stopped short. You couldn’t exactly finish that thought and tell him she was trying to help you talk to him because you obviously thought he was attractive and you would never approach him on your own. That would have been even more embarrassing. “I just–you’re clearly here with your friends and I don’t want to pull you away,” you quickly shot out instead.

His dark brows rose up behind his glasses, a slight amused grin forming on his lips. “Oh? You were paying attention to who I was with before you even ran into me?”

Wincing, you wished a bus would just barrel through the bar and hit you, putting you out of your misery and ending this embarrassing conversation. How the fuck were you even supposed to deny that?

So you decided to do what you always did when things got too uncomfortable–run.

“You know what, I really do need to go,” you said, quickly turning and stepping away.

“Wait,” he called out.

And you did. For some unknown reason you actually paused, back still towards him. You could see his two friends at the pool table still enraptured in their game, currently either unaware or uninterested in the fact that he wasn’t back with them.

“Okay, I really am blind, so you’re going to have to actually, you know, acknowledge that you’re still here so I know I’m not just talking to myself right now,” he said.

You cleared your throat nervously, your eyes dropping to your scuffed up dress flats. “Wouldn’t exactly be too out of place in a bar, at least,” you muttered.

He laughed lightly, the sound causing you to glance back at him over your shoulder. He was smiling and the sight nearly gutted you. You wished he’d take off the glasses so you could see the entirety of his face–his eyes were probably as beautiful as the rest of him.

He slid onto the bar stool beside the one you’d just been on, folding up his cane as he patted the seat beside him. “Please, sit. Let me get you a drink,” he offered again.

The words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Why, are you just that curious how far I can shove my foot into my mouth?”

Your mouth immediately clamped shut, one of your hands flying up to cover it as your eyes grew wide in horror at how your sarcastic comment actually came across. His eyebrows once again flew all the way up to his forehead, his lip twitching up at the corner in amusement. 

“Another one of your curious talents?” he asked with a slight laugh.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, taking a step back. “This is the most embarrassed I’ve probably felt in years,” you blurted. “Which is saying something because I have a tendency to make things incredibly awkward and uncomfortable and I should just really go home now.”

He was fighting the grin on his face as he shook his head. “No, please, don’t be embarrassed. This conversation has honestly been the highlight of my day.”

“I’m glad my mortification brings you joy,” you said flatly, taking another step back, “but I’m pretty sure I’m teetering on the edge of being the first person to actually die of embarrassment. So I should probably really go now.”

“I’m Matthew,” he said, extending his hand out towards you. “Usually I just go by Matt.”

Your eyes dropped down to his extended hand, staring in silent confusion at it. Why the fuck was he offering his hand and introducing himself to you?

He cleared his throat, hand still outstretched. “I know you said you’re a bit awkward and all, so I’ll let you know this is usually the part where you shake my hand and introduce yourself, too.”

“I–” you began, hesitating as you continued eyeing his outstretched hand. “I just told you like five times that I should go…”

“I know, I’m blind, not deaf,” Matt said, grin still intact, causing you to flush further. “But yet you’re still standing here instead of actually leaving. So,” he continued, extending his hand out further towards you, “my name is Matt, and you are?”

“Dying of embarrassment,” you muttered, unable to resist the slight smile on your mouth when he chuckled again. 

And then you caved and against your better judgment you shook his hand, offering him your name as you sat on the bar stool beside him. 

“That’s a pretty name,” he told you.

“And that sounds like a line,” you quipped back.

He raised a single brow at you this time, the corner of his mouth quirking up. You watched as the bartender made her way over towards the pair of you, the surly expression on her face morphing into a large smile when she saw Matt.

“What can I get you, Murdock?” she asked.

Matt turned towards the woman, a charming smile on his face as he said, “Just another beer, Josie, and whatever this lovely lady is having.” His head tilted towards you and Josie’s eyes followed curiously.

“Uh, just a beer, thanks,” you muttered awkwardly.

She nodded, lightly tapping a hand to the counter before sauntering off to grab two beers. You took a moment to take a deep breath, not entirely sure what to make of the evening so far. Normally you’d have scared someone off by now, making them entirely too uncomfortable to try to endure conversation. But not Matt. He was still sitting beside you, clearly relaxed and comfortable.

“So why’re you having a bad day?” he asked.

You glanced over at him. He was studying you, head tilted to the side and one arm resting along the bar counter, the cane folded up on the surface beside him. With the way he was turned towards you in the bar stool, and you towards him, your knees were almost brushing.

“Just a bad day at work,” you mumbled. 

“Where do you work?” he asked curiously.

“The Bulletin,” you told him.

He appeared to perk up instantly, sitting up straighter in his chair as his head shifted further to the side. “You’re a journalist?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered. “Or at least, I try to be when my boss isn’t throwing fluff pieces at me instead of letting me chase real stories.”

You briefly noticed the thinning of his lips at your words before Josie’s return with two beers caught your attention. You thanked her with a smile, surprised when she returned one, and watched as she disappeared. You took a deep drink from the beer, definitely feeling like you needed it to survive in Matt’s presence. When you set the beer back on the bar, your right hand absently playing with the condensation on the bottle, you turned your attention back to Matt and noticed the slight frown on his mouth.

“So you’re…chasing a dangerous story and your boss doesn’t want you to?” he asked curiously.

“Yeah,” you answered simply.

“Maybe you should listen to him,” Matt suggested.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “And what, write about the upcoming adoption event at the animal shelter forever?” You shook your head. “No, that’s not what I signed up for with this career. Your friend over there is Karen Page, right? She was the same way when she worked at The Bulletin, too.”

“Yeah, and you see how she no longer chases after the dangerous stories for a newspaper anymore, right?” he replied, his tone more serious than it had been.

“I’m sorry but, I just met you literally minutes ago and now you’re trying to dictate what I should be doing?” you asked skeptically.

Matt abruptly shook his head, his charming smile returning. “You know what? You’re right. I just remember Karen having some terrible situations arise because she was chasing a story. I shouldn’t project that onto you. I apologize.”

You continued to study him curiously as you raised your beer to your lips, taking a drink. You swallowed, voicing your thought aloud as you asked, “Why’d you want to have a drink with me so badly?”

“I liked the sound of your voice,” he answered easily. “You sounded nice and I thought I’d like to continue hearing you talk for a bit more tonight.”

You snorted loudly, shaking your head. “Okay, now that is a terrible line,” you said.

“Says the woman who wanted to show me how far she could shove her foot into her mouth before she even knew my name,” he countered.

You blushed furiously, shaking your head with a grin. “No, I said you wanted to see that, not that I wanted to show you,” you shot back.

“Well,” Matt said with a shrug of his shoulders as he brought his beer to his lips, “I’m blind anyway so I couldn’t actually see it one way or another.”

“How many blind jokes are you going to make tonight?” you asked him.

He grinned smoothly back at you, swallowing down his beer. “As many as you continue to easily drop into my lap,” he answered.

You laughed, your eyes darting to the beer beside you. Matt’s knee nudged yours and you glanced back at him.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked softly.

You shrugged a shoulder, eyeing the beer again. “I can’t decide if I’m regretting staying for this drink or not yet."

"Oh, ouch," he said, feigning hurt. 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "I mean I’m still debating whether or not you laughing at my intense embarrassment has been worth it or not yet for the current conversation."

"Uh huh," he replied. "So where are you landing with that? On a scale of one to ten?"

You pulled a face, head tilting to the side. "How would I even rate that on a scale?" you asked him curiously. 

"Well, one would be 'Oh shit I'll just stop talking and slip away since he can't see me’–'"

"Jeez, has that happened to you before?" you asked, cutting him off.

He shook his head, bringing his beer to his lips again as he answered. "No, but I get the feeling you might."

Your face reddened further as you watched him take a drink, eyes lingering on the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "No," you corrected, "I'd at least blurt out something weird and then sprint out of the room. You'd at least have some warning."

"Oh, well I appreciate that at least," he teased. "But really, scale of one to ten how much are you regretting staying for the drink?" 

You eyed him, bringing the bottle to your lips and thinking over your answer for a moment as you studied him and took a drink. He was charming, that was obvious, and he didn't seem even remotely put off or like he was struggling with conversation no matter how awkward you'd been so far. In fact, you'd go so far as to say that you were surprisingly having fun.

"Okay I'm pretty sure you just told me you'd at least blurt something awkward before you disappeared on me," Matt joked.

You grinned, unable to help it. "A seven," you answered. 

His eyebrows shot up onto his forehead again, an amused smile still on his lips. "A seven isn't bad but I was hoping for higher," he mused. "Why so low?"

"You could do with some better jokes and your lines are terrible," you told him.

"Duly noted," he answered quickly. 

"So what about you?" you asked somewhat nervously. "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you regret asking me to stay for this drink?"

You anxiously took a sip of your beer while he cocked his head to the side as if he was in thought for a moment. 

"An eight," he answered. "But only because I'm still waiting to find out how far you can shove your foot in your mouth."

You choked on the beer you were drinking, coughing lightly as Matt laughed and asked if you were alright. It was a moment before you recovered but his next question had you reeling again.

"You want to stay longer than that one drink? Meet my friends?" he asked when you'd recovered. 

Your cheeks flushed as you bit your lip, taking only a few seconds to think over your answer. "Yeah, sure," you said. "I've got time."

"Considering your friend said you could write your article in a half hour with your hands tied behind your back using only your tongue," he mused, "I imagine you do. You need any help with the restraints for that, by the way?"

You threw your face in your hands, groaning loudly as Matt let out another bark of laughter beside you. "I cannot believe you just said that," you mumbled.

"Really?" he asked curiously. "In the probably fifteen minutes you've been conversing with me you really can't believe I would say that?"

You began to laugh behind your own hands, turning your face to peek at him through your fingers. He was smiling wide, perfect teeth exposed, as he gazed in your direction. 

"Okay, yeah, maybe I can," you answered. 

"But you seem a little more relaxed now," he pointed out. 

He was right, too. Somehow after all the awkward tension and comments you'd found him funny and a little disarming. And he still hadn't run off, instead he seemed like he was also enjoying your company and he clearly didn't want you to leave yet. Which you certainly hadn't expected.

"Yes, maybe marginally less embarrassed," you agreed.

"Good," he responded. He slid off the bar stool, knees briefly grazing yours before he grabbed his cane and began to unfold it. "So, would you like to meet my friends? Stay a bit longer?"

You smiled, shrugging a shoulder. "Sure, let's give my anxiety a bigger audience," you joked, sliding off of your bar stool. 

"I have a feeling they're going to like you, too," he assured you.

You smiled nervously, feeling your palms sweating a bit again and trying to discreetly wipe them against your dress pants as he led you towards the pool table. He'd just said he liked you and you felt yourself becoming a bundle of nerves all over again.

But he couldn't possibly have meant it like that , right?

[thisisnotthenerd]

the perils of xp leveling: junior year

now that we're a fair bit out from the finale, it's time for some analysis. i've covered parts of this previously:

the spreadsheet [d20 xp leveling]

the original post [rat grinders levels]

the first follow-up [bad kids level up through sophomore year]

mall madness update

pre-last stand update

the last stand exam

rock the boat update

statting out the rat grinders

file aaa-bkq-04-doj

same stipulations as before:

xp for encounters is evenly divided six ways

monsters are either taken directly from the phb and other source materials or i calculate their CR based on dpr and other statistics

some opponents/encounters will have contextual multipliers--generally these are applied to account for the number of opponents, but may also account for other complicating factors such as environmental hazards, puzzles/traps, and the addition of other objectives to the battles.

as always, this is a combination of statistics and my own meta.

let's get started.

the cult of the night yorb: i previously covered this in my initial estimation of the bad kids' xp gains, but we're repeating it here for the sake of archival consistency. as a reminder, the majority of the yorbies fought were out of battle, so they start with ~70000 XP gained from fighting the yorbies over the course of the summer. no contextual multipliers for this fight--it was pretty straightforward and appropriately leveled for the bad kids.

yorbies: CR 3. this category also accounts for things like the yath-mags. total of 15 fought in battle. 10500 XP.

the night yorb: CR 19. total of 22000 XP for the sealing

total XP count: 32500 XP, plus 70000 for the yorbies they fought previously, for a total of 102500 XP, or 17083 each.

mall madness: this one is tricky for a couple of reasons--first, the number of opponents, and second, the complicated interactions with cassandra. thus, this battle has a few modifiers to account for the difficulties. i do think it was initially leveled correctly--the bad kids were handling the threats appropriately and responding both to the time pressure of the fight and cassandra's crisis. the turning point came with the shrimp incapacitation. it was, at root, brennan exerting control over the battlefield to ensure the fight wasn't just the bad kids whaling on the enemies--it just ended up turning into worse consequences than maybe anticipated.

shatter-stars: CR 3, based on their abilities. total of 13 fought, 6 defeated. 1.5x modifier for number. 6300 XP

rage mages: CR 5, based on their abilities. total of 10 fought, 3 defeated. 1.5x modifier for number. 8100 XP

cassandra: i placed her at CR 22, equivalent to her stats as the nightmare king. since she shifted between being an opponent, an ally, and incapacitated, i placed a 0.5x modifier on her. 20500 XP

kalina: CR 18, as established in sophomore year. i modified her as well because we really didn't see her do very much during this fight. 10000 XP

total XP count: 44900 XP, or 7483 each

frostyfaire folk festival: the title is really long and i'm not doing the whole thing. anyway, this fight is of a comparable level to the night yorb fight, with modifiers applied for number of opponents and the additional objectives of the fight (saving gorgug's parents, evacuating the civilians, protecting ruben, the vulture dimension)

principal grix: CR 13, as an ~18th level spellcaster with lair actions. 1.5x modifier. 15000 XP

sex lawnmower: CR 10, with a 1.5x modifier, for 8850 XP

washer/dryer: CR 7, with a 1.5x modifier on each, for 8700 XP

dildo robots: CR 4, for a 1.5x modifier on each, for 4950 XP

total XP count: 37500 XP, or 6250 each

baron's game: this one was a fun one to stat out. i deliberately did not include the divine interventions as part of the encounter because they did not actively fight them, they only escaped them. otherwise, it's a fun little puzzle with pvp mechanics included as part of the fight.

baron from the baronies: the version we saw didn't have too many abilities beyond the mirror travel and possession mechanics. it's possible baron v2.0 might have been a more powerful opponent. CR 10, with a 1.5x modifier for the possession mechanics.

zayn darkshadow: essentially a ghosty 12th level spellcaster. CR 8. 1.5x modifier for the time mechanics and environmental factors. his particular bane (edgar) went unused against him. 5850 XP

gulsom: uses flesh golem stats. CR 5, with a 1.5x modifier for the time mechanics and environmental factors. 2700 XP

zara sool: same deal as zayn, but as a vampire warlock. CR 8. 1.5x modifier for the time mechanics and environmental factors. her particular bane (garlic) went unused against her. 5850 XP

jawbone: uses actual werewolf stats, at CR 3. his particular bane (wolfsbane) went unused and he was not actually faced in combat, thus a 0.5x modifier was applied. 350 XP

kalina: CR 18, as previously depicted. 0.5x modifier because she wasn't actually encountered but instead defeated by the destruction of the curse and escape from baron's dimension. 10000 XP

alt gilear/athenriel: we don't know what his actual abilities would have been, so i put him at a CR 12, with a 0.5x modifier. essentially this is the XP gain for breaking the curse of the armor of pride. 4200 XP

total XP count: 37800 XP, or 6300 each

the last stand: this one i covered in my in-universe meta as shared above; i did change it slightly after running it through some encounter simulators. everything gets a 2x modifier because they were taking a test at the same time and dealing with a literal mob of enemies, though the strategy was incredible. they also had some extraordinary luck in this encounter in terms of gorgug's crits, adaine not taking hits, and kristen's true sight. since i've gone through this already this breakdown is going to be very simple.

otyugh: CR 5 for 3600 XP

ochre jellies: 3 total at CR 2, for 2700 XP

gorgon: CR 5 for 3600 XP

hydra: CR 8 for 7800 XP

skeletons: 8 total at CR 1/4, for 800 XP

mimic: CR 2 for 900 XP

manticore: CR 3 for 1400 XP

shrimp dragon: using young black dragon stats, CR 7 for 5800 XP

roper: CR 5 for 3600 XP

umber hulk: CR 5 for 3600 XP

stirges: 8 total at CR 1/4, for 800 XP

wyvern: CR 6 for 4600 XP

crab man: using hulking crab stats, CR 5 for 3600 XP

rust monsters: 8 total at CR 1/2, for 1600 XP

pentacorn: using modified unicorn stats, CR 6 for 4600 XP

purple worm: CR 15 for 26000 XP

total XP count: 75000 XP, or 12500 each

rock the boat: another one i've briefly covered before; much like the last stand, the bad kids are running with multiple objectives, but the combat itself is very much hit point sinks. everything has a 1.5 modifier for the party and ship mechanics, since the bad kids had to split their turns between shepherding votes and keeping the ship in the sky.

black dragon wyrmling: CR 2 for 675 XP

white dragon wyrmling: CR 2 for 675 XP

green dragon wyrmling: CR 2 for 675 XP

blue dragon wyrmling: CR 3 for 1050 XP

young white dragon: CR 6 for 3450 XP

young black dragon: 2 total at CR 7 for 8700 XP

young green dragon: CR 8 for 5850 XP

young blue dragon: CR 9 for 7500 XP

adult red dragon: since it's functionally two dragons with the legendary actions of a single dragon, i modified it up to CR 21 for 49500 XP

ancient blue dragon: CR 23 for 75000 XP. oisin's grandma, killed by riz gukgak the dragonslayer.

nightmare king: CR 22 as normal, with the 1.5 modifier for environment. i halved that to 0.75 because of k2's divine intervention, so it ends up as a 0.75 modifier. 30750 XP

total XP count: 183825 XP or 30638 each

ragenarok: i covered this in the full year file, but it's been slightly modified since then. as stated by brennan, the rat grinders have 20th level class/subclass features without the hit points or strategy to back it up. reference statting out the rat grinders above for my commentary on the builds. they have the benefit of jace being 4 allied spellcasters in one, and porter being an ascending deity. everything gets a 1.5 modifier because of the additional objectives and the number of opponents; it would have been higher, but the bad kdis effectively avoided the environmental hazard of lava by using ice feast and ended up using it as a weapon.

shatter-stars: 3 total at CR 3 for 3150 XP

ivy embra: CR 11 for 10800 XP

oisín hakinvar: CR 11 for 10800 XP

ruben hopclap: CR 11 for 10800 XP

kipperlilly copperkettle: CR 11 for 10800 XP

mary ann skuttle: CR 11 for 10800 XP

buddy dawn: CR 11 for 10800 XP

jace stardiamond: CR 16, as a 20th level sorcerer. there are four of him, so this becomes 90000 XP total

porter cliffbreaker: in a logical progression from their previous fights, porter is CR 24, for a total of 93000 XP

total XP count: 250950 XP, or 41825 each

overall total and final comments:

over the course of fantasy high junior year, the bad kids earned 732475 XP, or 122079 individually. that's enough to get them to 13th level on just what they earned this year. it functionally triples the amount they earned in sophomore year, but works in a logical progression, since they tripled their gains from freshman year in sophomore year + oneshots.

they're looking at an overall total of 1091813, or 181969 individually, which would put them comfortably into level 15, assuming they immediately level up post-ragenarok.

if we go by my original rat grinding estimate, that would put them almost equal with the projected gains of the rat grinders at the beginning of junior year (assuming they're fighting rats, spiders, and twig blights with no variants).

now we know they weren't actually fighting rats, but instead xp farming larger creatures from the mountains of chaos--at some point i would love to figure out what they 'defeated' to get to their prospective level.

in terms of the general combat structures this season, we saw a return to the battlemaps. lots of puzzles, fun bits, and easter eggs from the art department.

we saw some tactics shift with character decisions:

fig's dip into paladin effectively made her a third melee fighter for the party while maintaining her mid-level spellcasting for AOEs and buffs

K2, while deeply silly and affirmed by the universe in her comedy, served as a second cleric that could keep the party up

gorgug did still serve as a raging tank, but leaned harder on the artificer side of his build to enhance the party through buffs (flash of genius), reactions (absorb elements), and unique parts of his subclass

riz worked with utility magic to enhance his tactics beyond just getting sneak attack

fabian and adaine retained and expanded on their previous builds--they served as pillars of stability as the party's tactics changed.

i do think we saw a major shift as the season went on; before the last stand combats felt difficult but appropriately scaled; just over the edge of deadly for the party, lots of puzzles and environmental mechanics, and variety throughout them. the xp gains align with that--in the first few battles, they're equal or underleveled in xp terms, which aligns with previous patterns from fantasy high.

furthermore, it fit with the themes of rage and stress, while providing impetus for organic narrative investigation post-battle:

the end of the night yorb battle segues into the first day of school

the end of the mall battle goes into fabian's party where we met the rat grinders

the end of frostyfaire leads to finding lucy and yolanda in the far haven woods

the end of baron's game leads to investigations in hell

they neatly fit the structure of battle-rp-downtime. this rhythm is maintained until episode 14, as the bad kids go into the last stand. afterwards, we get two downtime episodes that have major rp/lore reveals and then three consecutive battle episodes.

the last three battles (the last stand, rock the boat, ragenarok) all escalated the scale of combat to an almost absurd extent. it stands as a testament to the skill of the players as well as some absurd luck that the bad kids all survived the combats. i did feel a loss of tension to some extent--once they proved they could survive the last stand, the bad kids were pretty much unstoppable, both on and off the battlefield. i'd be excited to see how they could escalate from it in senior year if they ever decide to do it.

[asterias-record-shop]

BINGO: friends to lovers w/tasm!peter parker

Prompt 17: "Do you think they heard us?" "Yes. We did."

reader & peter having a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of thing going on for a while/just so much pinning with stolen stares, hugs that last too long, the other boiling with jealousy but never saying anything because it’s not their place.

then it all just comes to a breaking point where one of them is acting off/distance and they have a fight about it until they confess to the other that they’re in love with the other and it hurts too much to be around them and that leads to smut 🫶🏽

—𓆩[will they, won't they]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, angst, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.3K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Peter had a more… complicated friendship. Best friends since childhood and ever since then, you both have always danced around your feelings. You finally decide to drop your feelings for your best friend after he starts spending more time with Gwen Stacy, and decided to go out on a date with one of the jocks from school and pull away from Peter, unbeknownst to you him, Gwen, and some more of your best friends are planning a giant date proposal for you.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - I gave y’all some extra friends cuz y’all don’t have enough- || you definitely know about him being Spider-Man, and your friend group || you have glasses now! (During studying) || he accidentally blows you off for Gwen but with good reason! || cursing and foul language || you think Peter likes Gwen so maybe a little bit of angst but it’s resolved quickly || yeah no maybe a bit more than a little bit of angst- || made up OC that’s a jock and you go out with him smut warnings: sex with people in the same house as you, Peter is a fucking munch no one can change my mind, more experienced reader x less experienced Peter, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, creampie 

“So, we have her favorite flowers booked, we have her favorite food, anything else?” Gwen looks up from her clipboard that was meant to make her look more professional. She and Carter, a guy that pushed his way into your friend group, along with Alia and Jamison, all had a bet on when the hell this was going to happen.

Gwen placed two weeks, and Alia was already out because she said three days, while Carter said one week and Jamison a week and a half. The winner would have your child named after them; it was a good bet.

“Do we have her favorite songs lined up?” Peter was chewing on his thumb, anxiously walking back and forth on the roof of his apartment. “And-”

“Peter, you’re overreacting so much,” Gwen says laughing, holding up her clipboard. “I already have everything ready! You have no need to worry about anything, I got the flowers, the lights, the food, everything! It’s going to be perfect.” She looks down at her watch, nodding. “Now, it’s almost eight-”

Peter quickly looks down at his phone, gasping. “Holy shit, I was supposed to meet Y/N at seven for movie night! I’ll see you later, Gwen, thank you!”

He grabs his bag, jumping off the roof and shooting a web out to catch him.

“Go get her bug boy!” Gwen yells as Alia comes behind her, biting into one of your favorite candy bars.

“You think they’ll fuck?”

“I highly doubt it.”

It didn’t take Peter long to get to the fire escape of your apartment, settling himself onto the railing to watch your scrunched face stare down at a physics worksheet. You mumbled softly, flipping through your notes and pushing up your glasses before slamming your head down onto your desk.

It makes Peter wince as you groan loudly, quickly pushing up your window making you look back with a gasp. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I’m late, I was with Gwen-”

“Peter, what are you doing here?!” You whisper yelled, quickly standing and pushing against his chest. “You need to leave! Now!”

“What? Why?” He looked down at his suit, more specifically where your hands were on his chest before he heard more footsteps. “Is someone here?”

“Peter, leave! Now!” You pushed him out the window, quickly closing and locking it before shutting the curtains.

“I brought us some snacks!” A voice says, Peter peeking into your room in the slight exposition of the curtains. “So, strawberries or cheese? Or both, like in Ratatouille?”

You giggle, walking toward the form, Peter almost growling when he saw Henry’s pretty face and blond hair. “You know, strawberries and cheese aren’t that bad. I’ve tried it before.”

“Oh yeah?” Henry laughs. “How about we watch Ratatouille and reminisce instead of doing physics?”

You laugh. “Oh, I wish. What about we get some work done and then we watch Ratatouille?”

Henry nods, plopping onto your bed in the same space Peter always did making his fists clench. “I’ve never been good at physics.”

You giggle, shaking your head as you spin your chair around. “Me either.”

He hummed, rubbing his chin. “What about your friend? Parker? He’s good at physics, isn’t he?”

Your eyes flicker toward the window, Peter raising a brow as he nods his head in agreement. “His name is Peter,” you stand, quickly shutting the curtain correctly. “And yes, he is sickeningly good at physics.”

“Why don’t we call him up?” Henry opens his binder, humming. “I’m sure he could help.”

Your brow ruffled when the doorbell rings, quickly standing. “Who could that be?”

“Let’s hope it’s Peter,” Henry laughs as he follows behind you, your pretty apartment organized chaos.

When you open your door, your face falls when you see Peter in his clothes, obviously messy like he changed coming down the stairs (which he did, thank you), a smile on his face. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Peter!” Henry says, smiling. “You’re here!”

“I am,” Peter tries not to make his voice sound completely and utterly annoyed. “Got a sense that someone might need my physics powers.”

“Well, your sense was wrong,” you said immediately, Henry laughing.

“No, it was right. It really was.”

“You gonna let me in?” Peter asks as you glared up at him.

“Henry, I think it might be best if we continue this another day. You have to be home by eight thirty anyways, right?” You look back at the blonde boy who looked down at his very expensive watch.

“Oh, where did the time go! Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow night?” He starts walking toward your room, Peter taking that as his chance to sneak in.

“Yes!” You yelled back, shoving Peter who barely budged thanks to his new abilities. “Tomorrow night sounds good!”

Henry comes walking back out, bag over his shoulder. “Perfect,” he smiles at Peter. “Maybe I’ll see you before then, Parker! Hopefully we can get some physics done, my mom is making pot roast that is literally to die for so I need to get back.”

“Ooo, pot roast,” Peter says all posh like Henry does, and you roll your eyes instead of laughing like you normally would. “That sounds so good. You can’t miss that, Henry.”

“Right!” Henry laughs, turning to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

You nodded. “That sounds great, Henry,” you say as he slowly walks out, slowly closing the door before Henry quickly puts his hand between the door and the frame. “Yes?”

“I uhm… have a good night, Y/N.”

You inhale shakily, smiling. “You… you too, Henry.” Slowly, you close the door and lock it before turning around, jumping when you see Peter. “Peter!”

“What’s going on tomorrow night?”

You scoffed. “Henry’s taking me out on a date.”

Peter froze, quickly fixing his glasses as though his vision would affect his hearing. “What?”

You rolled your eyes. “You heard me. He’s taking me out tomorrow night to a restaurant his father owns.”

Peter shakes his head. “I… we have plans tomorrow night, Y/N.” Tomorrow was the night, you couldn’t not come on the night.

You shake your head back, crossing your arms. “Well, I thought you’d be late to that like you were today.”

Peter scoffs, rubbing his chin. “I was late one time, Y/N! You know I always come!”

You put your finger out, wiggling it toward him. “No! No, it wasn’t one time! It’s been every day for the past three weeks, you’re late to class and you say, ‘Sorry Y/N, I was with Gwen’, or study halls, ‘Sorry Y/N, I got caught up with Gwen’, or something with Gwen fucking Stacy! If want to hang out with her, you hand out with her, but don’t make plans with me whenever you’re going to be late or you don’t fucking show up at all!”

He didn’t stand you up that many times, did he? He goes through all of them, wincing slightly. Maybe he had stood you up a lot.

The room was silent as you inhaled shakily, rubbing your face with your palms. “Just… I need to finish my homework. You wasted my time arguing with me about something I’ve told you about for the past week.”

Peter’s face scrunches. “You haven’t told me about going on a fucking date with Henry fucking Ford.”

“His name is Henry Baltimore!” You yelled at him once again, covering your mouth. You had yelled more at Peter tonight more than you ever had before. “You would know that if you would read your fucking texts. Now, I need you to leave before I say something I can’t take back.”

Peter shakes his head, quickly coming in front of you. “No, Y/N, please. Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t go, don’t go out with him tomorrow night. I need to tell you something important.”

You shake your head, inhaling shakily as you press your face into your hands to hide your teary eyes from him. What was he going to tell you, that he and Gwen were dating?

“Peter, I don’t want to see you, please leave.”

He shakes his head, holding your shoulders. “No, I’m not leaving, I’m not-”

You shoved him, gasping in air to hold back your tears. “Peter, get the fuck out!” He inhaled deeply as you wipe at your cheeks, sniffling. “Y/N-”

“Peter, I’m not going to tell you again. Get out.”

Slowly, Peter walks toward the door as you stand there, arms cradling your own body as you try to control your breathing. He doesn’t say anything as he opens the door, looking back at you as you breathed shakily. “Y/N,” he says softly, but you shake your head, refusing to look back at him. “I just… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, grabbing the blanket from the couch. “Lock the door on your way out, and leave the key under the door.”

Your heart aches as he does exactly what you said, but what else could he do? You wanted him to do one thing but told him another, how could he know what you wanted him to do?

Peter kneels down slowly, slipping the key back under your apartment door before that special tingle comes in. “What do you want?”

He slowly stood and turned around, sighing when he saw Henry. “Oh uhm… I-I left my charger.”

Peter nods slightly, holding back a scoff. How the hell do you forget a charger? “Right.”

“Peter?” Henry says as he starts to walk away, pausing. “You… you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

The one time the stereotypical jock had to be smart, the one fucking time.

“You just… you treat her right and I won’t kill you.”

You were going to kill Peter Parker. Henry called you an hour before your date after you spent hours getting ready, hoping to have the pretty dress you spent good fucking money on ripped off at most three hours into the date and the makeup you spent hours on ruined by the morning.

But no, Peter, Peter fucking Parker bad to ruin it all — all of it.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really think you should talk to Parker before you go on a date with me. If nothing changes, I’m here.”

Changes? What the fuck was going to change?

You banged on the door, your knuckles burning as you looked down at the pink dress dotted with hand sewed strawberries all over, especially on the pink area of the corset. You did not spend almost two hundred dollars on a dress (with matching lingerie) to not have it ripped off.

When Gwen opened the door, she gasped. “You’re here!” She looked down at her watch. “And early! Why aren’t you on the roof-”

“Where is he?”

Gwen pauses when she hears your voice, slowly letting you inside as you stomped toward his room, unknowingly following the path of red rose petals.

“Hey Y/N- Y/N?!” Carter was shocked to see you before you opened Peter’s door, looking around before groaning and slamming the door.

“Peter! I know you’re in here! What the hell did you do, Henry called and canceled on me!”

You continue to turn around, gasping when you see him kneeling down in front of you. This was not happening.

“What… what are you doing?”

“We-Well uhm,” he quickly stands, fixing his suit. Peter never wore a suit. “That was probably too formal, the kneeling, but uhm-”

“Peter,” you say finally, inhaling. “Hurry up and say what you were going to say.”

He slips his hand into his pocket, slowly taking out a velvet box. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry it took me so long, I am, I just wanted it to be perfect.” He opened it slowly, a thin silver band with a diamond in the center making you gasp. “It’s just… I didn’t know what to do. You said, you said you always wanted a promise ring and-”

“Hurry up, Peter!” You almost screeched, quickly covering your mouth as he smiled, his pretty whiskey eyes looking up at you.

“Well, do you want me to kneel down or-”

You cupped his face, quickly pulling him down to kiss you, humming as his hands quickly found their place at your hips. You could feel the pressure of the small box, slowly stepping back as he follows obediently, groaning against your lips before the back of your knees bump against his mattress. Slowly, he pulls away just enough to press the velvet box into your hand.

His cheeks are red as he brushes his nose against yours, humming. “Is that a yes?”

You nodded, gasping as he slipped the ring onto your finger before setting down the box. He inhaled shakily as he lifted your hand to press against his lips. “I hope this is okay. We’ve been friends for years and-”

“Dammit, just shut up, Peter.”

You pulled him down to kiss you making him rush to put his own ring on push you down against the bed, groaning as his fingers rub against the satin ribbon keeping your dress on your body. “H-How the hell do you undo this-”

“Just pull it, you need to untie it,” you giggled, sitting up just enough for him to tug on the string and press kisses to your skin. “Peter, Peter fuck-”

“I know, honey, I can feel you,” he whispered, body already shaking. He could feel every little thing you did, he could hear every sharp breath you took as his fingers trail over your back and finally untie your dress and the cold hits your skin. “I can feel everything you do.”

Most of all, he could feel how aroused you were. He could smell it, as weird as that sounded, a sweet aroma filling his nose as he kissed into your neck and the small sparks that traveled through his fingers.

He pulls it down to your waist, hissing as you lift your hips into his just enough so he can pull it down your body, but the feeling of your body so close to his makes his eyes roll back. Your hands start to tug on his blazer before he can even finish pulling down your dress, pulling away from his lips to let out a soft whine.

“Peter, please, please-”

“I know honey, I know,” he whispers back, pulling off his blazer before he is able to focus on your body. You didn’t have a bra on, of course you didn’t because your top was a corset, but the amount of exposed skin made him stop. “Holy shit.”

“Peter, you have way too much clothes on.”

He nods frantically, quickly obeying your not so subtle command, unbuttoning his shirt before you pull him down for another kiss, humming against his lips. Your fingers push into his slacks, a whine leaving his mouth as you pull out his shirt to finish taking it off, his hands going behind his back to grab the cuffs and pull it off.

The kisses were hot, your tongue pushed into his mouth as he groaned loudly, his hands cupping your face as your own press along his chest. He pulled away just a bit for breath, letting his eyes trail along your body before your hands pressed against his chest, stroking along all of his scars.

You were the one who healed the wounds before the scars, it was only right you were the one who kissed them afterwards. With that thought, your lips pressed to the waxy skin as his hands started to undo his belt, thankful for the fact he hadn’t been able to put on his shoes.

Oh but yours, the pretty white platform heels that had to have been more than four inches and the Velcro strap around your ankles really made him want to put them around his waist, or over his shoulders — whichever came first.

“Peter?” You whisper, his eyes quickly flashing to yours. You gasped, his pupils wide as he stared at you, his hands shaky. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just…” he whispers, shaking his head as he pulls his pants and boxers off, inhaling deeply. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. It’s my first time after… you know, and I swear I can feel everything.”

“Everything?” You swallow, gasping as your cunt clenched around nothing, his eyes rolling back as he slowly begins to pump his cock.

“Everything.”

You shiver as he slowly pressed his head against your pretty lace underwear, the pink fabric embellished with strawberries embroidered onto it. He inhaled as he watched the beads of precum spread across the lace, groaning loudly.

This couldn’t have been for Henry, no. This was for him and him only, he was going to make sure of it.

“This was for that preppy mother fucker?” He almost growls, leaning down to slowly slip the panties down your thighs. He certainly would have kept them on if he wasn’t planning on absolutely devouring you.

“Peter, h-he’s not-”

“Important?” Peter suggests, kissing against your plush thighs before groaning against your skin. “Gonna make you forget his fucking name.”

Your eyes rolled back as he slowly slipped his fingers down your slit, smearing your wetness up to your clit as your eyes rolled back, gasping as his fingers firmly rub circles onto your sensitive bud. It makes you whine as he gets faster, watching as it starts to get swollen and puffy.

He groaned, leaning down to press open mouth kisses to your lower lips, sucking and tugging with his teeth as his fingers rubbed faster against your clit. He could feel you squirming under him, hands tugging his hair as you whined loudly. “Peter, Peter please-”

“Please what? Hm?” He teased you, smiling as your hips buckled. “What do you want?”

You whined loudly, the sound making the hairs on his neck stick up as he groaned into your cunt. “I-Inside, please inside-”

He hummed, his fingers slowly teasing around the tight ring of muscle. “You want what inside? What, hm?”

“Y-You, any of you, all of you!” Your voice is loud, eyes rolling back as he slowly pushes in a finger. You moaned loudly, the feeling almost foreign because you haven’t had sex or touched yourself in a long time. “Fuck!”

His finger is long and thick, curling inside of you and he could feel that tough part inside of you. He stroked it, watching as your eyes rolled back and he started to thrust his finger, pulling in and out joint by joint before pushing in until his knuckles pressed against your wet cunt. You screamed out, whining as your hips rode his digits.

“You’re so desperate,” he whispers, lips latching onto your clit and sucking loudly. He could feel your nails digging into his scalp with another whine. “What do you want, hm? Another one?”

He watched you nod, hips bucking. “Yes. Yes, I want another one, please!”

Slowly, he pushed another in, watching as you whined loudly. He could feel your body spark in slight pain and discomfort, so he lets them stay still for a minute as you panted softly. “You okay?”

You nod, humming as you slowly move a hand to his cheek. “I’m perfect, Peter. More than perfect.” He smiled, slowly thrusting his fingers to hear a mewl fall from your lips. “Fuck!”

He laughs at the pretty curse falling from your mouth, something too foul and disgusting dripping from your pretty lips humoring him. “Don’t be rude now,” he says immediately, his other hand firmly rubbing against your puffy clit. “I won’t be so nice if you start getting mouthy on me.”

You shake your head. “I won’t, I’m sorry, please please-”

He starts to thrust his fingers, eyes rolling back as he stares at your scrunched up face covered in makeup. As much as he hated the thought of ruining your pretty mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow with painted strawberries on it, he wanted nothing more than to ruin it.

He pushed your clit between his fingers, sucking hard as you squirmed before he moved his hand just a bit to press against your pelvis. “Behave, bug.”

The nickname made you whine, your hand continuing to tug on his hair as he pressed firm kissed down your slit, thrusting his fingers in and out of you as the other rubbed firm circles into your clit and your walls clamping and clenching around his digits made him moan out and rut his hips into the bed.

“You want another, darling? Hm? I think you’re going to need it for me, honey, truly.”

You nodded, gasping as he slowly pushed another one in and thrusts his fingers slowly, watching your body writhe under him. He inhaled sharply at the feeling, groaning out as he kissed against your leaking cunt. Your hips buck up into his fingers, whines falling from your lips before shaking your head. “Peter, Peter! Peter, I want you- please. Please, need you now-”

He laughs. “What, you don’t want me to finish stretching you out? You just want to feel my cock?”

You nodded, tugging his head back. “Yes. Yes, yes please!”

Slowly, he pulled but his fingers, sucking and kissing against your entrance before pushing his fingers into his mouth. “You just want to be stretched out by me, don’t you?”

You nodded, gasping as he sat up and kneeled over your body. He takes his cock that was leaking precum drip out steadily as he pumped himself and watched it slowly spurt onto your cunt. It makes you whine as he slathers it around with his tip, pushing it down your slit before pushing his head into your cunt.

He watched your eyes roll back, a groan falling from his lips before he ruts his hips deeper into you. You whine, hands quickly rubbing against his back before your nails dig into his skin. He let out a shaky moan, groaning loudly as he pressed a kiss to your head. “Fucking hell, darling, you’re so tight. So, so tight.”

You squirm. “Feels good, feels so good,” you say, gasping as he starts to thrust, whining loudly. “Oh! Holy shit, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

He groaned into your neck, cursing as he held himself up by his hands and rolled his hips. “Fuck, fuck baby, barely been in for a minute and I’m already going to cum. You’re so fucking tight around me, I can barely breathe.”

You nod repeatedly, your head shaking as you pull him lower. “Please, please, inside. Don’t pull out, I don’t want you to pull out.”

His eyes rolled back as he choked, your walls tight as he started to thrust harder and harder, the bed slamming into the wall. Your nails scratch against his back, sobs of pleasure falling from your lips as his cock drags against your walls and hits that spot inside of you that makes your body shake. Your hips almost instinctively rolled into his own, desperate for more before he pulled your legs around him, the cold faux leather and your heavy platforms settling against his lower back.

“Fuck, fuck baby,” he whispers, almost growling as his thrusts get harder and unhinged, your body bouncing withe every test. “Fucking hell!”

You moaned his name over and over, the only thing calling from your mouth Peter, Peter, Peter… like a mantra, whines most likely interrupting every syllable. He could feel every twitch of your fingers, every clench of your cunt, every breath against his neck as he pressed kisses to your shoulder.

He dragged his tongue along your skin, teasing his teeth against you before sucking. He could feel your chest against his, your stuttering breath before you pulled him up for a kiss and your fingers shakily ran through his hair. He almost whimpered, hips moving faster before you clamp down on him with a loud moan and a creamy ring enveloping his cock.

His hips stutter, loud moans falling from your lips before he inhales deeply and thrusts into you as deep as he could, screaming out your name as he comes inside.

His eyes roll back, broken moans leaving his lips as you breathe shakily, hands rubbing against his cheeks. “It took you long enough.”

Peter smiles. “Yeah, it did, didn’t it? You know… I was always with Gwen because she and the rest of them were helping me plan this.”

You gasped, looking back. “You think they heard?”

“Yes! Yes, we did! Everything! The cumshot too!”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Vinny/Tony, Fourniers; one-trick pony

For the prompt: Dying for a Vinny/Anton update!

Thomas never had time for hobbies, not really. As a child, maybe, but the first time he volunteered to play goalie in house league he knew that was what he wanted to do.

He doesn't mean in a ‘with his life’ sort of way, though it was that too. More like every time he wasn’t actually on the ice, in the net, he thinking about it, practicing skills for it, working on his reflexes, his flexibility. Doing a hundred jumping jacks a day after a teammate’s older sibling told him it’d make him taller. He kept it up even after his coach told him that wasn’t how height worked, just in case he was wrong. Anything to get better.

It’s not that Thomas slacked on the rest of his life or anything — when he was at school he was at school, and when he was with friends, he was with friends, though he did make Meg shoot on him more than he probably should have, and when he was camping with his dad, he was in the wilderness.

But he never had enough ice time to satisfy him, never had enough teammates putting shots on him, never had enough time one-on-one with the Sudbury Wolves goalie coach that gave him some sessions as a favour because he was his teammate Zack’s uncle. Because Zack told him that Thomas had ‘it’.

And if Thomas didn’t have ‘it’ before those sessions, he did after, that edge that nobody else his age had. Advice on his blocker hand, sure, but more important things: on eating a clean diet. On prioritizing mobility above everything else. On what he could play through, and what he couldn’t, and if he didn’t know, to take that time just to be safe. That his mental toughness was as important as his physical toughness, and then some.

He had teammates who would sneak time during the long drives to games in the surrounding towns, entertained by Game Boys, books, Pokémon cards, but Thomas had a bad case of motion sickness he didn’t manage to shake until he was in Juniors, and spent so much time on a bus it started to feel stranger not being in motion. Besides, he was already thinking about the game ahead.

But lack of practice or not, Thomas probably should not be doing worse than two fifth graders at Pictionary. Right after he was worse than them at Just Dance — ‘Uncle Vinny, you’re supposed to be an athlete’ was said, and his feelings are still a little hurt. Also worse at baking cookies, apparently, though all three efforts tasted pretty good to him.

“Can’t you do anything other than hockey?” Vanessa said, so offhand he knew it wasn’t meant to sting, but, of course, it stung anyway.

Thomas doesn’t know how to explain being so focused on one thing impoverishes everything else, and he definitely doesn’t know how to do it in an age appropriate way. It’s good, he thinks, that they don’t understand — at their age he’d already started cutting away parts of himself that didn’t, couldn’t fit. He couldn’t join any of the after school clubs, or play any other sport above house league level. No sleepovers, except with teammates, because he had practice first thing on weekend mornings. At a certain point it was just hockey. It had to be.

Vanessa and Olivia can be anything they want to be. Maybe not literally — there was a point he remembers Olivia wanted to be a mermaid, and he doesn’t know how achievable that goal is, though he does know if he ever brings it up Olivia will furiously deny that ever happened and then refuse to speak to him for the rest of the day.

But they have Fourns and Chloe as parents, two of the most supportive people Thomas has ever met, and Fourns had a long, successful NHL career, so money isn’t a barrier either. They can try everything, do what they’re good at, what they enjoy, what they love. Which is dancing to Rihanna, baking cookies, and hurting a poor goalie’s feelings.

That night, Thomas brings his batch of cookies home with him, because the girls didn’t want them, and eats three standing right at the kitchen island. They’re perfectly good cookies. He doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

Anton comes downstairs when Thomas is on cookie three, hair damp from the shower.

“Good day?” he asks, then says, “Cookies,” before Thomas can actually answer him, shoving one into his mouth.

“Good cookie,” Anton says, through a mouthful of crumbs, squeezing Thomas’ shoulder on his way to the fridge. He doesn’t even notice Thomas beaming at him, too busy investigating, probably because last time Thomas went to the Fourniers he brought back half a cake and two pizzas. The Fourniers don’t do leftovers.

Thomas doesn’t know if Anton would have even played hockey if he wasn’t Vladimir Petrov’s son. It’s not exactly something that could ever be tested. Anton’s been surrounded by hockey his whole life: he literally sat in the Stanley Cup before he ever got a pair of skates. Hockey wasn’t just an option, it was the option.

Anton loves it, Thomas knows that — he wouldn’t have gotten this far if he didn’t genuinely love hockey. Wouldn’t put up with hearing ‘as the son of the legendary Vladimir Petrov…’ if he didn’t love it, or the teammates he calls immature idiots, like he didn’t get into an elbow-off with Thomas over who got the last pancake just last week.

He definitely wouldn’t put up with the media if he could avoid it, and he likes meeting fans more than he pretends he does, especially when they’re kids, but he likes his privacy more, and nobody gets much of that in Montreal, not if they’re playing for the Habs.

Even Thomas finds it a little overwhelming at times, and he not only gets recognised less than Anton does, he loves meeting fans. It makes it feel real to him, when sometimes the practice-game-flight-repeat lulls him into taking it all for granted. There’s only so much time left before it’s all over, and Thomas doesn’t want to waste it.

He’ll probably need hobbies in retirement. Scratch probably: Thomas gets bored when they go three days between games.

And retirement isn’t that far away, he knows — every contract he’s depending on the Habs still wanting him. The minute they don’t, his choice is going to be retiring or going somewhere else, leaving behind his city, his team. Tony, who’d probably take it pretty personally. And that’s if Thomas could even bring himself to do it. He doesn’t think he could. But without hockey, he doesn’t know where that leaves him. Here, he guesses. Making subpar cookies.

“How were the monsters?” Anton says.

“They said my cookies sucked,” Thomas says.

“What?” Anton says, immediately outraged on Thomas’ behalf. “They’re good cookies!”

“I thought so!” Thomas says.

Anton grabs a second cookie, taking a big bite out of it.

“Good cookie!” he says through another mouthful of crumbs. Thomas doesn’t plaster himself against him right then just because he’s afraid the cookie might choke him. He waits for him to swallow.

[starberry-cupcake]

I come here with further updates on my gideon the ninth read as per the favorable responses in my previous shares . You asked for it, so you're gonna have to hear it (@lady-harrowhark maybe you'll have fun with this one)

previously, in gideon the ninth:

this happened

currently, having just finished chapter 29:

gideon had tea with the eighth

actually no, scratch that, gideon sat in a chair while mayonnaise uncle's hair got braided, they never got to the tea part

false advertising

mayonnaise uncle gave half info, as people seem to like doing here

duracell bunny nephew stepped up and called him out

good for him, actually

you go, duracell bunny nephew!

it's gonna end terribly for him, but we stan

gideon left that Situation and found teacher saying ominous things

gideon left that Other Situation and found regina george twin being intense with swords

chad came in and she bit him

I see a trend alert with these third necromancers and the biting

gideon left that Yet Another Situation and went to the ninth room

gideon proceeded to open the closet

gideon got brad pitt-ed in the movie seven, but instead of gwyneth paltrow's head it was protesilaus'

it's not gideon's best day

now, hear me out

I know how this will sound, but hear me out

I haven't read past this scene, I haven't started chapter 30, all I know is she found the box

but hear me out here

just, just listen

hear me out

I still blame dulcinea

no, no, come back, I have a theory

I don't trust her, she's shady, she's too suspiciously fake kind, she's desperate and she has mentioned wanting gideon as a cavalier

I think it was back when gideon was turned into a blood sprinkler during the whole temple run key second trial thingy

or maybe later, after jeannemary left the mortal plain, but she said it at some point

and gideon has told harrow she wants her to free her to be dulcinea's cavalier

which, over my dead body

or maybe not, people here are dropping like flies, but anyway

dulcinea knows things others don't seem to know

she says things that gideon doesn't follow up on because she's horny and dense (affectionately)

I don't trust dulcinea

in case that wasn't clear

so what if

hear me out

seriously, I swear I have a point

what if harrow was set up?????

no, no, come back, listen, listen

gideon said something like the box wasn't well hidden

and I doubt very very very much that if harrowhark harrowldine harrowmina nonagesimus would have ended a bitch, she would have half-assed anything, much less the hiding

like, she'd either kill in plain sight and make a show of it or make it disappear and nobody would know

harrowhark harroweena harrowline nonagesimus pulled an edward and alphonse on her parents and only 3 people know she did

the entire system of these houses is unaware of that fact, as far as I know

so, if she wanted to hide a murder, I think, I hope, she would do better than this

also, keeping a head in a box doesn't seem her style, that's very haunted mansion and she's more halloween horror nights

so

what if she's been set up????

and gideon has like 3 brain cells working right now so she might fall for it??? hopefully not but maybe????

and side with my mortal enemy dulcinea instead?????

am I crazy????

am I too latina for this and seeing things???

is dulcinea the soraya montenegro of this story??? or is it me??? am I the drama???

this might all be absolute nonsense and in like 1 chapter I might be proven wrong but I don't trust dulcinea del toboso the seventh and I never will

if you pictured the always sunny meme while reading, that's the right energy I'm trying to share here

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

this was a lil while ago but it's been on my mind and it was rejected by actual Reddit for containing references to violence lol so it's c&p from back when this happened w a minor update but AITA for saying I'd curbstomp someone for saying the N word??

I, (27NB) attended a murder mystery birthday party back in May for a friend Annie (25F) with our mutual friends (24-28 various genders) (There was 7 of us total). We all had a pretty good time despite a lack of planning for the party and general weird vibes (Annie had been upset all day at something their partner, Sean had done).

Towards the end of the night, myself and a friend we're discussing anagrams, I believe specifically for the word "ginger", I was very drunk and did not hear the letters being spelt properly so I guessed the word was "Rigger". The other party goers conversations were coming to a natural end so they joined in mine and my friend's convo. Upon hearing me say "rigger" and pulling a face when I realised what exacty the bad word was my friend was referencing was, Sean then said "Oh it's (n word)!". Another friend, Betty did not hear what they said and asked them to repeat in, which they did loudly. The whole party stopped for a moment. At this point I think I fucked up because I was immediately shocked and said "You can't say that!" and then they said "what, (n word)?" and repeated it another time. I made a comment saying I believed the only person in the friend group to be racist was Dan. I've since privately apologised to Dan for this comment as I don't think Dan is racist at all, and Dan has accepted that apology.

Pretty much immediately after that everyone started making plans to leave, within five minutes cabs were called. Everyone left the room leaving me and Sean alone. I think this is also where I fucked up, I approached them and said they cannot say that word, it's not theirs to say etc, in which they just kept repeating "I'll use that word if I want to". (edit from months later: apparently Betty's boyfriend was in the room and didnt like do anything and just watched this play out). At this point I was pretty much blackout drunk and threatened to curb stomp them if they carried on. Betty came in and diffused the situation and took me home. Betty says myself and Sean were stood very close to each other but I was visibly drunk and stumbling and clearly was in no shape to carry through with the threat (Sean is also significantly larger than me in height and weight so I don't think even sober I would be able to land a punch, not that I want to).

Betty filled me in on a lot of these details the day after as I didn't remember a lot but apparently afterwards I tried to be extremely friendly to Sean and sort out plans for us to hangout this week, something I obviously won't be following through on. (edit: we haven't spoken to each other at all since this)

I messaged Annie on the sunday to wish her a happy birthday(edit: the party took place on the Friday iirc) and she also told me what happened (she was not present for any of this as she went to bed early at the party, feeling sick) undoubtedly hearing only Sean's side of the story. Knowing it's her birthday and I didn't want to bother her with drama I just said maybe their partner shouldn't of said what they said, and she stated after having a mild go for me for threatening to curb stomp her partner that she can't weigh in. So I stopped speaking about it to her and just forwarded her some videos I took from that night (silly videos, one of her blowing out her birthday candles, etc) and she replied saying thanks.

I've messaged Sean saying we need to talk about what happened and basically said while I'm sorry for it happening in their house during Annie's birthday party, I'm not sorry for calling out thag disgusting behaviour. Betty and another friend, Jack have both said I was well within my right to kick off like that, and that I was clearly not going to follow through with any threats, and Sean was wrong to not only say the words multiple times but then to double down when called out both in front of everyone and privately. But i have doubts since it was a birthday party and perhaps saying I'd curb stomp them is a bit much. I don't recall myself being particularly angry while shouting at them but they've said they definitely felt threatened by me and put off on talking to me.

I also find it odd they feel so threatened by me/find this behaviour of mine odd as I have reacted a similar way (less aggressive) when Annie was also racist in front of me, Betty and Sean. I've also spent the last two weeks meeting with Sean, bankrolling and planning this birthday party with absolutely no issue (i don't think a birthday person should plan/pay for their own party and Sean is unemployed) and we've had fun! We joked around a lot and I feel like I'm pretty open about being too weak to throw a punch but always ready to fight (like a chihuahua). I even came over early to help set up for the party, because I liked spending time with them. So for them to feel threatened by me is such an odd feeling. I also feel uncomfortable in the fact that Annie and Sean feel comfortable saying slurs in front of me. The whole friend group feels weird about this situation, no one really knows what to say.

(edit: ok this is where the original post ended but there's still some drama) so the day after I called Sean(with consent, to talk) but Anne picked up and said she would speak on Sean's behalf and I was on speakerphone. He did not apologise (neither did Anne) and Anne defended his behaviour pretty heavily. her/both of their's resolution was for Sean to just not say the N word around me. I obviously said that's still incredibly fucking racist and I don't want to be friends with racists? I cut them off after the phone call and said I'd like the money back I spent on the party from Sean. Anne ended up paying it back two months later when I politely brought it up at another friend's birthday.

Betty and her boyfriend still hang out with Sean and Anne and seem to be pretty good friends with them. Betty mentions Anne to me fairly often and all I say is why are you friends with a racist and then she goes quiet. Everyone still maintains I'm the asshole that ruined the friend group and I still feel pretty insecure about what happened. I don't think I should've threatened violence but they all say "chat shit get hit". so idk. AITA? sorry for how long this is lmao

What are these acronyms?

[nowoyas]

Boiling Point 1: Rabbit Season - Miguel O'Hara/Reader (NSFW)

Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: hi I'm very normal about miguel o'hara. come be normal with me.

EDIT 9/20: DUE TO A URL CHANGE LINKS ARE CURRENTLY BROKEN. FOR EASE OF READING PLEASE PROCEED TO AO3. I HAVE NINETY FOUR FIC LINKS TO UPDATE SO IDK WHEN THIS WILL BE FIXED BUT SOON.

Summary: You are determined to put an end to the onslaught of your toy collection. In your quest, you set out to re-train yourself into some discipline.

Warnings: smut, vibrator use, masturbation. reader is afab and a sub.

Word count: ~3000 words

You are really starting to hate Miguel O'Hara.

Oh, sure, you’d follow him to the ends of every earth, Earth-47 notwithstanding—fuck Earth-47 and its migraine-inducing everything—and you will never thank him enough for everything he’s done, for you and all the other dimensions saved by him, directly or otherwise. He’s brilliant, he’s a genius, he’s easy on the eyes, his leadership is instrumental to holding together All of Everything, all that which you can comprehend and conceive, all that which you cannot. He does not always have all the information, but you trust him to do as much good as he can with the information he has. He is fundamentally good to a fault, and while he can be abrasive at times—perhaps more often than not—we can’t all be winners all the time.

No, your issue with him has nothing to do with any of that.

Your head is more than a little fuzzy right now, given your current circumstances, so I’ll be nice and put this in a way you can understand:

Miguel O'Hara keeps breaking your fucking sex toys.

Like I said, he’s easy on the eyes. Maybe too easy. Maybe, more than once, you’ve fought at his side and had an entirely separate fight in your head just to keep your mind on the matter at hand. Maybe, one time too many, you’ve seen his fangs flash during a flare of the temper or a slip of his guard and not quite forgotten the sight. Maybe you’ll need to be lobotomized if you want to forget that time you’d gone on a mission with him and he’d leapt directly at you, claws out, fangs bared, eyes vermilion, to tackle you out of the way of some particularly dangerous debris and stayed on top of you for a full eternity after that to make sure you were okay.

If that final image was the one seared behind your eyes as you sighed and pressed your vibe into yourself this fine afternoon, that’s between you and no one. And, in fact, it wasn’t, because you are never admitting to getting off to the general thought of your—boss?—your boss, not today or ever, under oath or the threat of death.

That being said, it had started as a bit of a coping mechanism.

He was stupid hot, and he walked towards you like you were quarry he had hunted, and the first time he’d done it, your brain had gone completely offline for a full five seconds. Getting off that night had been unrelated, you tell yourself—you didn’t think while pumping two fingers into your cunt, let alone about him, let alone when you’d added the third because you were certainly not imagining something thicker plunging into your heat. Fingers hadn’t been enough, not for a job like that, and by the time you overheard him finish a playful spat with Lyla with the words “good girl”, you’d given in and broke open the vibrator collection, a relic of a much more impulsive time, before you were fucking yourself on toys definitely not to the thought of your boss.

The first casualty had been your green rabbit vibe. It was a mainstay, and your oldest toy—a thruster, thick, good insertable length, great battery life, not so loud you struggled to get off for fear of your next-door neighbor hearing its buzz. Miguel had bitten someone during a mission that day, just held them and sunk his teeth in and set them down as they slumped, paralyzed, and wiped his mouth of the blood afterward like it wasn’t the hottest thing known to man.

Monsterfucking porn had been your saving grace. You’d turned to werewolves and tried not to overthink the image in your head when you pictured their teeth scraping your flesh, and then your old reliable rabbit vibe had made an odd noise between your writhing that tore you out of the image entirely. Seconds later, it stopped thrusting whether you wanted it to or not. When you hit the button, it made a pathetic noise like a spent lover, wriggled a moment, and went right back to motionless.

You’d groaned in frustration, pulled it out, told yourself it had just died, except it was still making that buzzing noise and the clitoral stimulator was still working fine. You pulled the third orgasm of the night out of the clit stimulator and your wrist work alone—it had been a bit better, because the ruined orgasm 2.5 had ultimately turned out to be an edge, and a name that no one would ever be able to prove was Miguel’s ghosted your lips by then. A good cleaning, a good charge, and some cooldown time, and you determined that the thruster of your poor little green rabbit would never work again.

Miguel O'Hara’s second casualty among your collection was nearly as tragic. You’d come to see him at the wrong time that day—walked in, said his name, and he’d turned to you with red eyes and actually growled at you, and holy shit, you couldn’t calm down for the next hour or the rest of the night.

Your green rabbit had been relegated to a glorified dildo and clit vibe, and as you thrashed on your bed, desperately chasing just an echo of the things that ran through your head when he growled at you, pressing the vibe into yourself as far as it would go and nearly there nearly there nearly there, it buzzed oddly and its power suddenly fell away.

You’d choked back a sob at that one. Again, you assumed it’d been a case of poor battery life, though you hadn’t charged it all that long ago. When you reluctantly pulled out the dripping vibe and saw its indicator lights flashing and flickering in the dark room, you did sob, and then, because you were still thinking about the growl in his voice and the flash of his fangs, you dragged yourself out of bed, dumped your old friend in the trash, and found your backup vibrator to finish the job.

The next casualty of your collection had been your pink vibe—she was an upgrade in every way to the green one. More speed options, rotating beads in the shaft, an attempt to imitate “tongues” on the clit, however the hell that was supposed to work, and more money to have discreetly shipped to your apartment.

This time, Miguel hadn’t even done anything in particular to catch you in his toy-breaking throes. He’d just been existing. Vibing, if you will. And your horny ass—by that point you were starting to suspect yourself some kind of nymphomaniac, and that was before casualty number three—saw him just sitting there and eating food like a normal-ass person, had some really fucking horny thoughts (first about just cooking for him, nice, domestic, sweet) (second about him pulling up the apron you’d wear for him in the first scenario and splitting you in half over the kitchen counter), and that was it for your evening post-shenanigans.

So, naturally, when you got home, you took off the bracelet, stashed it in another room, leaned over your kitchen counter, and revved up that rotating-beads-in-the-shaft thruster, pistoning it into your cunt with obscene squelches like your life depended on it. You’d kept it up, free hand clasped over your mouth, until you were forced to finish on the couch lest your legs give out, and the poor thing overheated from the strain of trying to keep up with the image you had in your head of Miguel and the thruster never moved again. Great investment, that one.

It was at this point in time that you had two options:

First, seek therapy to help you through the excruciating condition of being sex-crazed for one Miguel O'Hara.

Or, secondly, you could funnel those feelings through a surrogate and fuck someone else’s brains out so you didn’t have to think about him.

You, in all your overwhelming genius, decided that the city’s superhero could not retain the services of a therapist in any way that mattered, let alone any of the Spider-Therapists abound at HQ, and instead found your way into a myriad of fuck-buddy relationships with perfect strangers.

You found your pool of eligible fuck-buddies wanting, to say the least. You never used to be all that picky—I mean, sure, you were never exactly all that attracted to anyone before the whole Spider thing, and then you were a little too busy to worry about it, but you still probably would have slept with someone if they were decently pretty enough and nice to you—but then you tried to find someone and filtered out half of them on looks alone.

Hair too light. Too waifish. I could snap this one in half.

Some were just generally not great candidates as you swiped through: weird thoughts about domming, one whose bio mentioned how he would expect you to throw out your toys once you were “dedicated” to him (those were expensive and you’d been forced to throw out one too many already), misaligned kinks, one guy who literally said “I don’t believe in safewords” and didn’t see how that was the biggest red flag in the universe.

It took too long, once you’d settled on a few choice matches, to figure out what they all had in common beyond making profiles on a hookup app and claiming to be dominants:

They all reminded you of Miguel.

This, admittedly, did not become clear until later, when you slept with the first one for the second time and it wasn’t all that bad and while he had you blindfolded on the bed, you forgot yourself and moaned a name.

Not ‘sir’, like had been discussed in your initial meeting.

At first, you’d frozen because you’d forgotten to use his title, and that meant you were due for punishment. Then, it was because you realized the real mistake:

That hadn’t been his name you’d moaned.

You broke it off shortly after that. When the second guy went the way of the first, you gave yourself one last shot with this whole diversion idea, and that went pretty well. You lasted three whole months with this one—he was sweet, he was funny, and when it came time for you to be tied down and have your brains fucked out, he respected your hard stops and made your head fuzzy by the time he was done with you.

He bit you in the heat of the moment, and you moaned the wrong name again, and this time, you gave up on having any sort of sex life, even though he tried to be understanding of the misstep.

His teeth weren’t sharp enough to live up to who you wanted him to be, anyway.

How many casualties had Miguel O'Hara racked up in your bedroom, now? Three partners, two thrusting mechanisms, one vibrator, and now, as you sit on your knees on your bed and ride the half-defunct pink rabbit, the still-functioning vibrator buzzing in the night, you give in and admit to yourself that what you need more than anything is for him to break you in half. To chase you down, clamp his teeth on your throat, and have his way with you.

Riding this stupid toy isn’t enough. You slump face-first onto the bed, ass in the air, and try to imagine how his hand would feel on the back of your neck as you reach a hand back to pump the toy into your weeping pussy.

This, too, is not enough—you resort to full-power vibrator, nearly spasming as you try to reach the heights you need to feel satisfied tonight. And you even nearly get there, before Miguel O'Hara’s stupid everything claims its seventh casualty and the vibrator sputters out with a noise that you’ve come to associate with a profound sort of grief.

You throw the broken vibrator aside, reach for the shitty purple bullet vibe that had come as a free gift with one of your collection. In your haste and with the strength that comes with being a Spider, the fucking thing snaps in your hands. Another casualty of his. At least you didn’t pay a hundred dollars for that one.

It’s little consolation. Tears slip down your cheeks as you reach back to do the job manually, but no amount of fingering yourself or frantically rubbing at your clit is going to be enough, and fuck it, you know that by now, but that was your last toy and now there’s nothing left and his stupid pretty face is still in your head and you have to do something!

It’s no good.

Nothing you’ve tried has ever quite been good enough, and you know that.

Short of buying yourself a fucking machine, too expensive and noisy and hefty to even really consider, you’ve got nothing.

After fifteen frustrated minutes of crying and trying to bring yourself up to that climax you so desperately need, you throw yourself down fully onto the bed and actively cry into your pillow.

He’s stupid.

He’s burned through every sex toy in your collection, every vibrator and thruster, every partner you’ve tried to lay with since meeting him.

You are really, really starting to hate Miguel O'Hara.

~

Okay, so that’s one unhealthy coping mechanism lost to your complete inability to be chill. Luckily, you’re not just a sex-crazed simp for him, you’re also an adrenaline junkie, and if your substitute for all the lost sexual outlets happens to be taking some bigger risks than you normally would when caught up in some fight or another, that’s between you and the wall you went through.

Keep telling yourself it’s sustainable, and maybe you won’t have to worry about the weird look from one of the many various Peters running around or the stern look on the face of Miguel when you report back in. Which Peter? Fuck if you know. You were faceblind before joining the society comprised of 95% the same guy in different flavors. They don’t take it personally. At least you almost always get the name right.

And really, it is! It is completely sustainable! Bruises are a thing you wear with pride, and you’re beyond the worry for broken bones and serious injury by now. If anything, the dull ache in your back could be a useful grounding point to keep yourself from thinking about things you shouldn’t, a skill you probably should have been practicing well before you broke the first vibe.

Nothing you try works, of course, not when he’s standing in front of you looking an awful lot like he has something to say.

“I should head back, too,” you say when your backup Peter has moved to leave. A perfect segue to heading back to your home dimension and—

“[name]. Stay back a moment.”

He doesn’t word things like requests. You’ve learned, over time, that he is requesting, in a way, but his voice is forever just a bit too deep and rumbly for your body to interpret it as anything but an order, and god you’re useless. So much for not thinking about the things you’re trying not to think about.

You have to remember that you can’t stay here and chat, so you remember that you can’t stay here and chat, and so you turn to leave anyway. “I can’t really stay and chat—“

“That was stupid,” he interrupts.

Ah. He was watching you fight today.

He raises a single eyebrow as he studies you. (You hate his stupid face you hate his stupid face you hate—)

“You could have moved out of the way.”

You snort, brush it off. “He was just some villain of the week type. I thought it’d be cool if I could get him before he hit me.”

“You let him hit you because you thought it would be cool?”

“No, I waited too long to move the way I wanted to, because I thought it would be cool. It’s not like I really got hurt, anyway.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh, muttering something in Spanish you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I can’t decide whether you’re stupid or just need discipline.”

That is decidedly not what he said. You caught enough shreds of his muttering to know that much. And anyway, it doesn’t matter, because it takes all your willpower not to reply with discipline me yourself then, coward and you’re so focused on that thought that it clicks.

Oh.

What you need is not to get over your monumental attraction to him.

It’s discipline.

Before you fucked the life out of every vibrator you owned, you had discipline.

Before you met him, you had discipline.

It was something you’d given over to sexual partners to handle—to tell you when to masturbate, when to cum, when to pull your toys away regardless of how needy you were.

And, in the absence of any such partners between your newly exacting standards and inability to sleep with anyone without thinking of someone else, it’s once again going to have to come from you.

You meet his eyes, a new fire within you. “I’ll do better.”

He holds your haze a long moment, his expression one of those enigmas you could spend centuries trying to crack and still turn out to be wrong in the end.

He breaks it off first, turns away from you.

“Then do it. I’ll be waiting.”

You slip out of the room and clear out of the dimension.

You’ll get your discipline back if it kills you.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet

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[nurgletwh]

Update part two (this is the rest of it, there isn’t any more… at the moment O.o).

February 2024

It took all of two days for my BP to return to my ‘normal’ (the value I expected and where it’s been for a few years now).

It took over a week for me to feel mostly better, and two to approach feeling normal.

Chug away through the rest of the month, but I’m not energetic at all.

March 2024

Nothing super-exciting, although I slowly but surely feel more and more drained—almost exactly the way I felt when I went in because my blood sugar was high. Which was very confusing, because it was great.

Late March-April 2024

I felt awful again. I could barely get the energy up to do anything, and I was back to sleeping all the time. 14-16 hours per day on the weekend, falling asleep in my chair when I got home from work, waking up enough to crawl into bed and go right back to sleep for the night. Which also adds up to 14-16 hours per day.

Warning: diet talk

———

Remember how I started Ozempic? It does weird things to how I perceive hunger. Add that to how well I remember to eat and…

At some point I realized that in the last three days the only things I’d eaten each day were a couple of pieces of toast w/peanut butter for breakfast, nibbled on jerky for lunch, and maybe ate some more toast for dinner.

Thinking back further, I couldn’t figure out a recent time frame where I had done better than that. I had weighed myself in early February, and remembered wondering if dropping 25lbs. (11.3kg) in eight weeks was a good idea.

Shit.

(FYI: no*, it isn’t.)

So I got my exhausted ass out of the house and grabbed a case of Ensure, multivitamins, and other snacky crap I knew I’d eat. My goal was to get things back together enough to get the energy to start fixing my diet, nothing more. I knew aiming higher wouldn’t work until after I could do something besides work and nap.

(*Experts recommend an initial weight-loss goal of 5% to 10% of your starting weight within 6 months. For me, it should have taken nearly seven months to hit that 10%. Granted, these rates are for ‘unassisted’ dieting.)

———

It took all of three days for me to feel significantly better. Not great, but better. I still didn’t have much energy, but my sleeping patterns altered drastically. I was still napping after work, but I would wake up two hours later and accomplish something before going to bed. I didn’t accomplish much, but it was more than sleeping and more sleeping.

Things slowly got better, but again, getting to “ok” was faster than getting back to “normal.”

I know I dropped off the face of the earth, but it felt like every time I announced that things went wonky but I was feeling better now and put out a few chapters, things would blow up again. I wanted to make sure things were better this time.

Which was a poor choice; I should at least have posted something that said I was fucked up but working on it. I apologize for that lack of communication, although things did blow up again…

April 26, 2024

TORNADO.

A FUCKING TORNADO WENT RIGHT THROUGH OUR WORKSITE.

FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK!!!

I know I posted about it. It wasn’t very strong (HA!) by the time it came over the hill and destroyed the house at the top of it, merely (MERELY!!) tossing over a few rail cars and flipping a few semi-trailers.

We got lucky. This very same tornado absolutely wrecked Elkhorn (west of Omaha, NE).

I’ve stated I live and work in the Omaha area, so I’m not too worried about posting this, but here is an overlay of that tornado’s path on top of Apple Maps with my little blue dot while sitting at my desk.

May 2024

Most of May went fairly smoothly. I even got a little writing done!

Unfortunately, I had fallen so far behind on projects at work during all of the above that I was now trying to get caught up. Said project was over four months late at this point. I was working a bit late (not crazy-late, but about an extra hour most days) while still drained, so I didn’t have a whole lot of extra mental energy for writing.

I was, however, finally back to plotting and planning! Yay! Progress!

Until… (is anyone shocked at this point?)

The Friday before Memorial Day I felt a bit drained.

I woke up Saturday with a headache, feeling achy and sore. It didn’t get better, so I took my temperature around noon. 100.1ºF.

Wonderful.

I took a Covid test (that’s my default action to feeling crappy now), but it came back negative. Note that I wasn’t coughing, and I didn’t feel particularly short of breath or anything.

Nothing improved over Sunday, but it didn’t change much, either.

Same for Monday (Memorial Day). But this now made three days with a fever (also three consecutive negative Covid tests).

I agreed to @grumpyoldsnake’s and their friend’s demands to get my ass to a doctor the next day if I still had the fever, although I really wasn’t feeling too bad other than achy. Note: still no coughing (I promise this is important).

I woke up in the middle of the night when I heard something that sounded like a goddamn goose in my bedroom.

Have you ever woken yourself up by making some weird-ass noise that you then can’t duplicate? Even though you know you made it?

I was able to duplicate it. Without much issue. It fell under “well, that’s odd,” and I went back to sleep.

A bit later I woke up to a different weird noise, but I was sidetracked by what I heard and felt after I coughed a few times. My chest was making a sound like a freshly opened pop can. When my mouth was open, it was even worse. I could feel it bubbling away (it didn’t hurt).

Fuck.

Guess what?

PNEMONIA!!

Fuck my life.

Prior to Friday, I hadn’t been sick. They tested me for the flu; that was negative.

Pneumonia is almost always a secondary infection, not primary. You have a cold, or Covid, or bronchitis, and it turns into pneumonia when bacteria settle into your irritated bronchi.

Me, on the other hand…

I never really coughed all that much. Reviewing the blood oxygen data from my Apple Watch, I could peg when the infection started really kicking in, although it looks like something started about a week prior to that (when I did a round-trip plane trip, spending five or six hours on a plane and in an airport two days in a row…).

It took a week to get to a place where my breathing to start feeling easier, nearly two before the oxygen levels started crawling back up.

I did start coughing.

And coughing up… liquid. It was the weirdest sensation. I’d cough, and end up with a mouthful of what felt like slightly thick water. It didn’t really taste, and was nearly colorless.

I coughed that shit up for nearly three days.

I never coughed up the stuff that had any sort of color, although it did get thicker and more ‘traditional’ for stuff you cough up when you get sick. Which puts to lie that you can tell you have a chest infection by the color of the crud you cough up. :-/

It took another nearly two weeks after finishing the ten days of antibiotics to feel like my breathing was normal. The first day back to work was one hell of a reality check, though. I hadn’t been moving around much, and I knew I was short of breath, but I made it all of fifty feet from my car, then about ⅓ of the way up the stairs to my office before I had to stop. I couldn’t catch my breath and was dizzy.

That was the first time I thought, “that could have killed me.”

Not walking up the stairs, but what led to me standing on the stairs, gasping like a landed fish.

It was emphatically hammered home when I made a joking comment to a coworker that it thankfully wasn’t that bad.

Her response?

“Oh, no. Your x-ray was bad.”

>.<

I’ve been getting better. My nutrition went sideways again due to being utterly distracted, but I think that is fairly understandable. :-P

I refuse to say “I’m doing fine now!!”

Fate doesn’t need the temptation.

I hope to get back to writing. I hope even more that I can tackle the monster my inbox has become (both at AO3 and my personal email, which has been just as neglected).

Take care, everyone. Stay healthy.

[ingydar-phan]

Happy birthday Dan. I found you at a very, very low point in my life. It’s funny, because that point was only a few months ago. March 3rd. March 3rd. Jesus Christ. I was dealing with severe bullying, depression, hopelessness, isolation, gender dysphoria (i have been out/socially transitioned for like 5 years), and most of all, loneliness. I had a circle of about 3 friends who i talked to regularly, but only 1 i even saw in person more than once per year. Then, two of those 3 people began having relationship issues and were on the verge of breaking up. I felt like i was a bother, a burden to their already existing issues. Every single day I’d walk into school, put my headphones on, and not talk to a single person. I’d read, sleep, listen to music, dissociate, and sleep some more throughout the day just to distract myself from everything. From class, from parents, from the outside, everything. I fully and truly believed everyone besides those 3 people hated me. They found me disgusting, annoying, taking up space, and simply didn’t want me there. I think that is true to an extent, but i don’t like how i was just letting that be how it is. My dad was genuinely hopeless, he told me to just ride it out and if i could try to be just a little bit normal-er, maybe i wouldn’t be ignored by every person every day. That didn’t work. Instead, i decided to do some self work. Or rather, my dad stopped intruding on my free time which allowed me to still be awake and do things i wanted to do in peace. I thought, “Dan and Phil….those two emo guys with the cat whiskers….i have such a vague memory of a friend mentioning them or scrolling across a post of them, who even are they?”. I typed into the YouTube search bar “Dan and Phil”. A gaming channel? Are these people streamers? Oh god (i did not know you were one of us 🏳️‍🌈….or british…..). I watched one video. Now, ACCORDING TO YOUTUBE HISTORY, i somehow watched What Dan And Phil Text Each Other 4 as my first video. Not even the gaming channel, i don’t know how this happened maybe YouTube is lying to me. Whatever. Ok so which ones Dan and which ones Phil? Why do they look SO different? They’re British? I started watching Dan and Phil edits on TikTok. Ok, i know who you are, i get the vibes. Oh, coming out timeline? Gaming channel timeline and hiatus? Reacting to PINOF? On March 13, i watched Basically I’m Gay and Coming Out To You. It took me an entire month from then to watch Why I Quit YouTube. By late April, i was in it. I was watching Dan or Phil every day. Before, during, and/or after school. Since then, I’ve purchased YWGTTN (limited edition signed updated paperback). It was 38 fucking dollars in USD but it was worth it. I also now own TATINOF and DAPGO, one of which is signed by Phil, i bought second hand. So yes, now this is my new thing. But you know what else? I was getting happier. I was going to more concerts. I was doing my schoolwork, or at least trying to. I was reading!!!! I’ve since finished The Secret History. I made a friend; reconnected with an old childhood friend and started eating lunch together and hanging out and having shared trauma dump sessions, and we are so so close now. My two friends broke up, but it’s ok. I’m best friends with one of them and he’s so much better off, and the other and i are still casual friends!! I value them both for the multiple years I’ve known them. I’ve taken family vacations and done religious holidays with genuine care while getting to reconnect with my family. I’ve very passionately finished acting in a musical that I’ve put so much care into for about 5 months. I’m graduating tomorrow!!! And me and my close friend will be going to a concert tomorrow night afterwards, and I’m going to have a great summer where i see my close friend who i haven’t seen IRL since March of 2023. I’m getting closer with my dad and seeing a new therapist. I am having medical problems as of right now, but i would 100% be lying in bed crying and skipping graduation had i not found a reason to enjoy my days.

Did i just take one sentence referencing Dan to write a whole autobiography on tumblr? Yes, but also no. Dan and Phil are real people. They really do rescue pigeons named Steve and getting 10 sauces for their pizza and say hi across the city with binoculars. But they also genuinely have an impact on people, and they see that, and they LIKE to see that. I don’t think Dan will see this post. But I’m making it anyway. For me.

I love Dan so much. I cried twice while watching We’re All Doomed in my kitchen. I have actively watched Dan and Phil videos while crying at school. Once, in my bedroom, i was having a panic attack. I had an overwhelming rush of thoughts around 10 or 11 at night about how worthless i am and how terrible everything was going. I opened my tiktok, and there was THE edit that saved me. It was a video of fetus Dan on YouNow talking about his dream home. And then it was cutting back and forth to the Phouse. Then, Dans hopeful monologue in Basically I’m Gay. Finally, Dans hopeful monologue in We’re All Doomed. All of this in a softly shaky screen with sad music behind it. I cried a lot. This aspect of my life means so much to me. I think about the Halloween 2023 baking video at least 5 times a day (and sister Daniel’s….uhm….legs…). I am still so mad i did not buy the satanic Craft shirts. I just rewatched Dans interview last year with Anthony Padilla just because of how goddamn much I’m obsessed with that angle of Dan with his cute chin and cheeks and fucking dimple. I think about Dans bluntness in his defined-self and truly feel inspired to be like him. I look at his change over the years, his comfortability in his body, seeing that his face and neck are shaped like my face and neck, and he’s fucking beautiful. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable in my weight if not for Dan Howell, and i mean that so insanely sincerely. I read Dans book whenever I’m feeling hopeless and need a soft sexy British man to tell me the scientific reasoning behind why i feel this way and to assure me he’s felt worse. I’m so serious when i say i cannot imagine a day of my life without Dan and Phil. I truly don’t understand how i lived before or how I’d expect to live without it. “Live”, in the sense of find a way of life, not as in “stay alive.” I can’t imagine a day without those big brown boba eyes and that cute dimple and mainly that calming voice that reminds me someone else has felt this way. That reminds me love is possible. That reminds me i have so much ahead of me, so much life and love and joy.

Phil’s birthday stream may be my favorite piece of Dan and Phil media, or at least one of them. I find it so comforting and wholesome and beautiful and hilarious. I have such high hopes for Dans birthday stream. Until then, I’ll be working on my long-awaited (still very very unfinished) 2009!Dan and Phil art piece within my art initiative (pinned on my profile) (just for funsies, no money or anything involved). I’m going to sit there at 3pm (my time) and watch with a huge smile on my face to see my amazing dads spend the time of their lives being sexy and old and happy and disgustingly homosexual while i just embrace all you’ve done for me.

Happy birthday Dan

@danielhowell

[rockybloo]

Since I've never really talked about it before, I think it'll help for added context on why I draw some stories more often than others.

SO first off, I got a fulltime job. Not just any fulltime job but a job where I work OVER NIGHT. Which means I have a vampire sleep schedule of sleeping during the day and being wide awake at night.

It's why I take frequent naps because those naps are actually my 9 hours of sleep y'all would usually be having at night. It's also why you see me posting at ungodly hours of the night.

My sleep schedule is surprisingly not that bad but my free time very much has to be rationed out.

Much of that free time is taken by me juggling Beanstalked and Glitter and Guilt which is only possible because of the fact I know my pace with working on comics and I've been at it for like...good ass while now so I'm quick enough to get two page done in one week.

I could push myself for more but then I'd be in the danger zone of overworking myself and burning out and I don't want to risk that just so I can update quicker.

When I am not working on webcomics, I like to draw and doodle just to chill out. And I default to what my brain wants to draw. Typically that is the most frequent OCs y'all wind up seeing because they are easy enough for me to draw due to muscle memory and they are the ones I think about the most.

And then typically by that point, I gotta sleep again and start my next work week.

This is why I can't work on every single story I got at once and why the max amount of webcomics I can work on is only two at a time.

This is also why, whenever someone asks me to draw an OC more, I just go "when I got the juice for it, maybe". Rocky is tired and just trying to chill. Rocky chill by drawing fav OCs...typically OCs I ship together...typically Red Beans.

SO YEAH

there's some added context for y'all

[zurdurer]

Re-listening to malevolent from part 1 and I'm less than 5 minutes in and am already getting so worried for the next updates - also my tired brain is making shoddy (probably very obvious) connections

Btw it's been a while since I started this and I did not go further in the 1st episode than 5 minutes cus I stopped to write this lol

So urh spoiler warning for Malevolent probably!!

So it starts by flicking through radio stations followed by Arthur making panic noises. Then he's scared, can't remember who/ where he is, what happened and has a voice inside his head. Soo this got me thinking, obviously there's significance in the music. There's no way that it's JUST setting the scene of the office, it may be that in part don't get me wrong but given later context there may be a lot more in it.

Obviously there are musical associations with Kayne so this could be symbolising the beginning of his interest, the point where Kayne discovers Arthur? Or at least this one to see how he works out situations. There are probably things I've missed or forgotten that meant my brain thought of this but I cannot remember right now for the life of me.

What sticks out to me though is that the only times we hear or have mention of radio (to my knowledge) is when Arthur is in the coma (it's mentioned that John listened to the radio during) and at the end of part 43 after the resurrection. So they're pretty big events. The entity appearing, John's time alone in the care of the nurse, Arthur coming back.

I mean this could all mean nothing but if either idea holds any truth to the meaning of radio in this show then I have some ideas (and concerns) for what may happen in 43.

If radio signifies the attention of Kayne then 44 may include a visit from a very irritated and blood stained god. Which yk- that could be fuuun!!

However! I'm more worried about how similar that last snipet of 43 is to the beginning of 1. I'm concerned that maybe this will be cyclical. People are talkin about Arthur losing memories but oh my gods is that a concerningly possible future. Maybe I'm misremembering 43 but book event followed by Arthur not having fun followed by the KIY being his friend in some capacity with radio somewhere in the mix feels far too similar so it would not at all surprise me if memory fuckery was back too.

bonus thought about the beginning of the first episode. the song that played could have been a little reference to their developed relationship. The switching stations being their rocky start and journey before settling on a song that is preferred and turned up high as they accept their love for the other and they both become each other's main focus. The lyrics do just fit so well I mean come ON

"I cant forget the night i met you, thats all im dreaming of // and you call it madness, ah but i call it love"

ITS LITERALLY THEM!! Gods they make me sick

Anyway. Yeah so I'm concerned for 44 but am way too tired to think about anything much longer

[arriansarchive]

Sub!Peter B. Parker/Dom!Male!Spider!Reader

Hdhdjd

Warnings because I always forget them: uhhh scent thing? scent kink???, getting caught, PANCAKES, porn, simple dick sucking

I tried to make the scent thing less weird but I think I failed with the wording I'll be honest

Before Mayday of course

Okay for my update schedule I'm going to try and get something out every/every other Sunday and maybe sooner if I feel like it

I'm easing myself into using the word dick and penis more can you tell? I damn well hope you can cause I go through hell trying to do it

I hate the word suckle

This is less mean!dom!reader then I usually do but it'll have to work because I'm on a time crunch here

Summary: would you like some plot with your porn???? yes? too damn bad

Your house was surprisingly quiet and desolate tonight as you flip the pancakes you were making for dinner. Nobody ever said a Spider had to have a good eating schedule to be a hero, you know.

The last pancake got shoved onto the plate, and you wooped in hurray. Hunger was one of your biggest weaknesses during missions (and everyday life).

"Peter!" You called.

Your fruitcake boyfriend, Peter B. Parker, was also a Spider working for Miguel. He had recently got home from a particularly hard mission, so the pancakes were mostly for him.

No call back or footsteps came from your shared room. You wait a second, a minute, ten minutes, still nothing came.

But then you hear a slight squeaking from something against the wall. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you walk slowly towards the room, preparing for a fight.

You slammed open the door to a quite erotic scene. Peter had a pair of your boxers from the dirty clothes basket you both shared held up to his face. His hand that wasn't holding them was stroking his dick furiously.

You lean against the door frame and watched for a second, contemplating whether to continue the moment or ruin it once you make yourself known.

"Peter." It was almost like a command.

Your voice was lustful and your eyes glazed over with the thoughts that consumed you like a body of water you were sinking in.

His eyes shot open and he lowered the hand covering his face with the boxers to his lap. His expression was surprised and shocked.

"M/N, I thought you were making pancakes." He muttered.

You chuckled a little. "I was until I heard our ridiculously loud bed creaking and then walked in to this."

His face was completely beet red at this point, and his hand had let go of his painfully erect 'problem' he was dealing with.

"The pancakes are done then?" He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You nod. "But I'm going to finish what you started before you eat them."

His face looks bewildered and slightly betrayed. You guess he feels this way because your letting the pancakes get slightly colder than normal.

Once he talks, your thoughts are confirmed. "M/N, the pancakes will get cold!"

Without a word, you crawl quickly onto the bed and capture his red and puffy lips into a ferocious kiss that took all the breath away from you.

It feels like you pulled away all too soon to kiss down his jaw, neck, and finally arrive at his collarbones where he was the most sensitive.

Peter groans a little when you start to suckle on one of his sweet spots you had hit not even two nights before.

He tries to snake his hand through your entangled bodies to touch himself, but you bat his hand away quickly.

"No, I'm going to do it." You declared darkly.

He furrowed his eyebrows in testy defiance but ended up not acting on it. His arm went to hold onto your shoulders while you straddled him lightly.

Leaning down silently, your lips wrapped around the tip of his weeping cock. Peter's groans filled the air that was heavy with the scent of erotica.

His legs were shaking violently and squeezing around your head while you lick a stripe up the vein of his dick.

"Oh shit, M/N!" He sucked in a breath quickly. "I'm gonna cum."

"Already?" You half-heartedly complained.

He whined as you came off with a 'pop' sound. Leaning on your elbows, you look up at him through your lashes in thought.

"Should I let you cum yet, Peter?" You tilted your head in faked innocence.

He blinked in confusion and then rolled his eyes affectionately because he knew what you wanted from him.

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. "Yes, please."

Grinning evilly, you lowered yourself back onto him, immediately setting a fast pace to get him to achieve his orgasm.

He screamed, probably loud enough for the neighbors to complain about, and white ropes of cum shot out of his tip and into your eagerly waiting mouth.

His breaths were labored with the strain of staying up even if he was leaning on the headboard. Peter looked at you in contemplation.

You stood up slowly with a mischievous grin present on your face.

"Where are you going?" He questioned.

"I don't know about you, Pete, but I'm going to eat some of the cold pancakes I made."

With that, you walked away from Peter briskly, leaving him to wallow in his post-orgasm clarity.

[midnightanxietytm]

The rites of spring

Summary: Amidst the spring rites, Narinder learns something about his usurper.

"What could that mean? Had the Lamb not taken a consort during the previous fertility rituals? That was very unbecoming, it should be a God’s duty to bestow such blessings upon their followers…"

Author’s Note: So, before starting, a few things just for context: Since i'm not really into anthro, the lamb and their respective followers have human forms and wear animal masks that correspond to their role in the cult; The lamb is the leader obv, cats are “keepers of the house” aka they are organizers/overseers of other tasks, crows are gatherers, moles are miners so on so forth.

Also, I’ve imagined that as The Lamb, after achieving godhood, has a face that’s perfect to an unsettling and undescribable degree and that only the ex-bishops can actually look at them unmasked for more than a few seconds.

Also also, Masks, man! I love the concept of masks that both hide and reveal identity, don’t you?

Contents/warnings: Narilamb being toxic yaoi/yuri. This author is self-indulgently using the sex update for content. Non-explicit sex (aka we fade to black because i got lazy). Some angst. Mention of spouse death. Pinning, banter and all that fun stuff

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

“I wonder if our glorious leader will give anyone the honor of spending the night with them this time…” Muttered one of the Crow-masked followers, and Narinder frowned upon hearing it.

What could that mean? Had the Lamb not taken a consort during the previous fertility rituals? That was very unbecoming, it should be a God’s duty to bestow such blessings upon their followers… Maybe Narinder should take this as an opportunity; point out their flaws, make them uncertain, shake their foundation… Yes, surely that was the intention behind him making his way to the fields, where the Lamb-masked deity stood, casually talking with their followers.

Said followers, upon seeing the former god approach, promptly bowed to their leader and left quickly. Narinder was still proud of that, even decades after losing his godhood, they still avoided him in fear, yes, surely that thug in his heart was pride… This new mortal body of his was confusing sometimes…

The Lamb sighed upon seeing their followers flee, but turned to Narinder with a soft smile; “Yes, Narinder?”

The former deity put on a cheeky grin; “I heard you won’t take a partner for tonight’s ritual…” He said, softly dragging out his words. “Your followers are feeling uneasy…” An exaggeration, but a necessary one, it doesn’t matter if the followers were still as loyal as ever, Narinder would make sure to point each and every flaw until they weren’t.

So the giggle his usurper let out in the face of that treat came as a surprise. “Really, is that your pick for today? Okay then, your complaint is registered, Nari.” They said with a soft laugh. “You are free to go for today, We’ll begin soon.” And they left, just like that…

Usually, Narinder would retire to his tent sooner for the Fertility Ritual, along with his siblings. That year though, he chose a hill a little further away from the main clearing, sat down, and chose to watch from afar.

The dances began right after the sun was down; a large bonfire was lit, drums resonated, and beyond it all, The Lamb was sat on a large, elevated wooden throne, and on the opposite side of the valley, Narinder stared at them.

The hours dragged, the activities and celebrations getting more lewd by the moment, and to Narinder’s surprise, from up the hill, he saw his brother, Leshy, leave his own tent, grab the attention of a follower with a orange cat mask, and disappear with them behind the temple. Ew.

Narinder looked back to the Usurper; now they had one leg thrown over the throne armrest, mask lifted and resting on top of their head, their ethereal features full on display, but none of the followers were paying attention, all either asleep from their exhaustion already, or engaged on lascivious displays with one another.

And they both watched, Lamb’s kaleidoscope eyes hooded, a small, satisfied smile on their face, as if their follower’s pleasure was their own… And maybe it was, Narinder couldn’t know; The Lamb had more domains than he had even at the height of his godhood, he chose not to follow that train of thought.

The night went on, then passed. The sun would be rising in about two or three hours, and by now most followers had either retreated to their shelters—most with a partner, so their fun would continue—, or fell asleep around the dying bonfire. The former god rose from his watching spot, and crossed the large clearing with slow steps. He jumped over sleeping, naked bodies, and climbed over to his new deity’s thone.

“You didn't take a lover tonight after all…” He said, and again, the deity laughed.

“So you were just curious after all?” Narinder chose not to give an answer, but The lamb didn’t desire one anyway. “This existence you doomed me to, Narinder, is a lonely one, you should know.” They mused, though there was no hint of sadness on their face, it was a mere observation.

Narinder growled either way; “I doomed you to it? Need I remind you that it was you who took it by force?!” He grabbed the back of the throne forcefully, leaning over the god laid down on the seat.

“I don’t mean godhood, Nari,” Says the lamb, laughing yet again, their eyes hooded, their soft smile never leaving. Utterly infuriating. “I mean immortality… I’ve taken a few lovers before, but they all left me, they die, whether of age or of their own volition, so why try?” The deity then reached both their arms towards him, hugging him by the shoulders, Narinder had to prop his knee on the throne as the Lamb refused to let him go.

“Mortals die, Lamb, that shouldn’t bring you pain, you are weak if it does.” He whispered tauntingly, but the usurper’s face still did not falter.

“I guess…” Hummed the Lamb; “But we both know that gods die too, even if just by the hands of another, and so what’s left for us?” Their hands slid upwards, from his shoulders, to his neck, then his face, where they took off Narinder’s mask and carefully placed it aside.

“That’s a fool’s conundrum, Lamb.” Narinder snarled. And only then, their smile fell, and they sighed heavily.

“I don’t know why I thought you’d understand,” Their hands left his body, cold, and they grabbed the black cat mask, holding it as if made of gold, staring longly at it. “even imprisoned you had Aym and Baal, before that, for better or for worse, you had your siblings…” They carefully placed the mask back on his face. “Leave, Narinder, The one Who Waits. If you must think me a fool, then so be it.”

And out of all the outlandish things Lamb said to him in those decades since his defeat, this is what took him back the most, this blatant dismissal of his opinion of them was something he wouldn't stand by. He growled again and spoke his mind; “You think you can just dismiss me like that?! Don’t forget I was a god before you, I am your predecessor!”

And his former vessel simply sighed and stood up, forcing Narinder to take a step back. “Narinder, can you honestly say you miss your godhood? Because as far as I’m aware, I’ve taken a huge burden off your shoulders, along with the chains on your wrists…” They then reached again for him, but now to pull him roughly by the back of his neck, until their faces were inches apart. “And you have eternity with me in order to learn to appreciate it.”

Then they let go and promptly turned to leave, and it was the second time in a very short timeframe where Narinder was left stunned by the damned lamb. Utterly infuriating. Narinder turned around quickly and grabbed the darned usurper by the arm. He had to say something, had to give a comeback, something, anything, to shut them up.

Yet nothing came out.

He looked at the crown, resting on the Lamb’s head, and for the first time, the sight didn’t infuriate him. “At least take a partner for the next ritual. When you’re immortal, you have to move with the time.” He said after a moment of silence. “Besides, whoever you choose will surely be grateful…”

The lamb spun on their heels with a smile, all of a sudden. “Whoever I chose would be grateful?” And Narinder knew that cheeky smile better than he’d like to admit. “What if I chose you?” Came the dreadfully anticipated honeyed words.

The former god made sure to keep his expression plain as he slid his hand down their arm and granted their hand, kissing their hand. “I would be honored, my God.” He much preferred this type of teasing, he could deal with this better than the dismissal and nonchalant attitude his little lamb would sometimes display.

The usurper hummed softly, their usual smile back to their face, they pulled their mask back over their face, and Narinder felt as if pulled into a trance, one he had allowed himself to be put under, he regretted nothing. “The night is still young, my darling.” They said, and Narinder allowed himself to be pushed into sitting on the throne himself, and happily allowed the Lamb to straddle them.

Suffice to say the haze from the ritual had not yet passed, and no one would dare prevent a god from enjoying it too. Narinder surely wouldn’t.

And by the time morning came they were already apart, Narinder in his shelter as if he never left in the first place, and Lamb diligently helping their followers through the afterglow of the ritual.

By mid-day, when they gathered for a sermon and a feast in celebration of the successful ritual, Narinder heard a rabbit-masked follower gossip that during the haze of the night, they thought the Lamb had taken a lover, and they might have been delirious, but they still commented that in his mind, their Leader had the most ethereal body, and made the most beautiful sounds in the heights of pleasure.

And Narinder agreed in silence, but that was no one’s business.

Author’s Note²: Yay my first COTL fic! I quite like it, but expect me to play around with their characterization a bit in the next ones. I especially want to give a shot to cannibalism as a metaphor for love, as one does. Hope my interpretation of them in human form with masks wasn’t a dealbreaker for yall, but i can barelly describe normal body language, much less antho body language, I’ll give it a shot too, soon.

Anyways, that’s it for today, thanks for reading and feel free to give me some kind criticism if ya want! Byee!