#but expecting a variant of some kind

[raayllum]

me looking at july 26th and CHET... it's been a good run my friend

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

I know this may sound crazy but remember how in No Way Out, Sonic told Nine that he still considered him to be a friend while getting down on one knee and Nine calmed down? Later in Nine’s Lives, Nine says “Typical” when seeing Sonic run to the others and accused Sonic of betraying him when Sonic called the others his friends.

Nine was sort of acting like Sonic proposed to him and then cheated on him by being friends with the others.

Okay so first of all, I don't think you're crazy. During S3 there's actually plenty of evidence that Nine is jealous, both of the Tails variants and Sonic considering everyone else his friends.

One example that presents his specific kind of jealousy is during Episode 2 of Season 3, when Nine first appears to Sonic in New Yoke.

"Everything is collapsing... This is terrible!"

"Is it? That seems odd coming from you. As far as I can tell you only care about your own home."

Essentially what I'm getting at is this. I do believe that pre betrayal, Nine admittedly considered Sonic to be the most important person to him, and thought Sonic may have felt the same way. And the "betrayal" at the end of S2 hurt Nine very deeply. He had this image of Sonic in his head that was shattered by the finale, so he sort of instinctively switches to thinking the worst about Sonic because he can't trust that anything he thought before wasn't a lie. This is one of the reasons that he can't fathom Sonic caring about shatterspaces other than his own home.

But it's not just that he can't fathom it, it's that due to this deep hurt, Nine cannot allow himself to believe it.

Because if Sonic genuinely cares about the shatterverse as a whole, if he genuinely cares about saving all of these people, then to Nine, what made him the exception?

Sure, we the audience can see Sonic’s journey in Prime. We can see that by the end of S2, Sonic wanted to keep the shatterverse safe just as much as he wanted to bring back Green Hill. He wanted everyone to be alive and happy. But from Nine's pov here, he's just learned that Sonic lied to him, spoke honeyed words and manipulated him just to get to the prism. None of that is true, but he doesn't feel like Sonic actually cares for him or wants him. So at this point, for Sonic to put saving all of these people over saving his own home or genuinely worrying about their home makes Nine feel like the exception or that his feelings about Sonic must be wrong. Either one of those ideas he'd understandably like to avoid (because one means that Sonic is genuine with everyone except for him, and the other would mean to him that his feeling of betrayal and hurt feelings post S2 finale are misplaced and not allowed to be had, though he feels justified feeling hurt)

And that scene in S3 E3 No Escape is actually another big exemplifier of Nine's brand of jealousy and just how hurt he is.

"Don't worry. Beneath the surface, my new friends are far simpler than the flawed creatures you knew and loved. And all the more loyal for it."

Starting out strong, Nine takes a not so subtle shot at Sonic's friends while taking subtler shot at Sonic's loyalty, since Sonic had been his first and only friend.

"Ever wonder where we'd be if things had gone differently between us?"

"...Not anymore."

"I do. All the time."

"Not anymore." Implying that post the S2 finale he really had dwelled (at least for a time) on thoughts of how things could have been different. How he wished things could have gone differently.

And Nine gets visibly angry/frustrated when Sonic confesses he's always thinking about how things could have been different. Perhaps because it feels like a slap to the face, or feels hard to believe.

"Tch. You had your chance."

"...Right back at ya, bud."

And then, despite his anger, despite how he's been trying to get Sonic all along so he can drain his energy and save his home, Nine ignores Sonic's "should we get this over with". He puts on another one of those faces, similar to earlier when Sonic arrived and Nine talked about his "new friends". Perhaps to cover up exactly the way he's feeling in this moment with a veneer of superiority (he always did something similar when talking up Sonic to the Chaos Council).

"You know...after all this time...I think I finally understand you, Sonic."

...

"You wanna save everyone. Friends. Foes. Total strangers! You say it's because you're a hero and that's what heroes do, but deep down... After what you did—destroying your own home—it's the only way you can ever live with yourself. Even if that means you won't live at all."

And while I think Nine isn't incorrect—that there is a part of Prime!Sonic who's been acting out of selfishness, caring more about feeling like a good person than actually being one—these are still words from someone who feels betrayed by Sonic. I think there's a level to which Nine is seeing a part of Sonic no one else did, and also to a level which Nine is trying to recontextualize Sonic's more heroic/selfless seeming actions so he can reconcile them with how he feels about Sonic and sees him at this moment. In other words, while he's seeing a facet of Sonic he didn't see before, this is not all encompassing of who Prime Sonic is. It's just that perhaps by believing that Sonic's every seemingly selfless action is disingenuine, that all those nice words and intent to save people is just so Sonic can feel good rather that actually caring about anyone, then Nine doesn’t have to feel like the exception. Then he can see Sonic as someone who is pretending to care about all of this, and Sonic's other friends as fools who don't see what he (Nine) has seen.

But as I said, it's more complicated than that. Perhaps Nine is seeing a facet of Sonic that other people don't see or don't want to see, but Prime!Sonic is multifaceted. Perhaps he does want to hurry up and sacrifice himself in this scene because then he can finally feel like he's atoned for what he's done and he's absolved of/paid for his crimes, but that also doesn't mean he doesn't genuinely care about the lives of people in the shatterverse.

"If I don't make it, and you do, how do I know you'll keep your promise."

"Don't worry. Your 'friends' are safe. Once I have your energy, I can restore everything. They can have their silly lives in their silly spaces, as long as they leave me alone."

"Fair enough."

...

"And for what it's worth...I wouldda done the same for you."

"Don't lie to me..."

"I'm not–"

"DON'T!"

"Think whatever you want, but it's true. Even after everything you've done, everything we've been through. Together. Against each other. You're still my friend, Nine."

I really couldn't express more just how hurt Nine feels. That he doesn't believe Sonic would give anything up for him, even if he were to accept that Sonic would do that for everyone else. When he tells Sonic not to lie to him, frustrated, angry, voice wavering, I think it's because he can't take this again. If Sonic is lying just to manipulate him, if this isn't genuine, if he's just using him again, he can't take it again.

This is an incredibly intimate scene. With Sonic, standing face to face to Nine, inside Nine's safe space, his home that no one else has been into, behind the physical representation of the walls surrounding Nine's heart post betrayal, this is his first time all season really being allowed to speak to Nine directly. Here there's no one to perform to aside from each other.

But you can see that despite everything, Sonic still reaches Nine in this scene. It's not easy, but he reaches Nine's heart, leading Nine to start to believe in him again.

And that's why it's a pity the other variants show up when they do, using Sonic to breach Nine's walls. With the way Nine reacts after this happens, Sonic may as well have made Nine believe in that image of him again. Sonic may as well have made Nine believe that Sonic does care about him, that he'd do anything for him (or, at least, would give his life for him like he would for the others if it meant they could live), only to be the trojan horse that allowed the enemy™ to breach his safe space. The pretty lie.

At the beginning of S3 E4 Nine's Lives, Nine says "Predictable" when Sonic runs over to his friends. And, as anon mentioned, Nine says that Sonic has betrayed him for the last time, calling the deal off.

I wouldn't necessarily say here that Nine feels as if Sonic had cheated on him so to speak, but I would say that even if Nine doesn't see Sonic as a willing "trojan horse" here, Nine still feels like a fool for "falling for it again", for believing in Sonic. I think it's enough betrayal to Nine that Sonic would convince him that he cares about him and wants him to have a future too, only to then side with a bunch of people who want to beat Nine down and who would not let Nine be happy if Nine surrendered to them (from Nine's pov at least).

So in short, anon, I think you are seeing Nine's jealousy here. Even if he also has to believe Sonic is secretly fooling the others, to him this is a scene where Sonic is not only choosing them over him, but another example of Sonic (from Nine's pov) proving that he's a liar who doesn't care for Nine or his future/safety at all.

[yardofblondegirls]

one thang i will say about gifted kid burnout discourse is. its very annoying when people make it a huge part of their personality. but also like. yeah things that happen in your childhood affect how you exist as an adult. but also a lot of the problems with gifted education programs are kind of more reflective of why the american public school system AS A WHOLE needs reform

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.2k words

fic masterlist previous part pt seven next part

angst but kinda fluffy? straight after; mention of past violence (minor) — you wanted to know what those spanish sentences miguel made you say meant, him having kept that to himself. and when you do, having scouted miles, you’re left…well…shocked. your friends are also left shocked wondering who asked you to say those things. when you go to question miguel about it you find him in a state you’ve never seen him in before.

You had desperately wanted to translate the Spanish Miguel had chosen not to tell you. So much so, that you had began to scout HQ for a Spanish native speaker. You were too prideful to use your phone for translation, plus Miguel said nothing on not asking someone.

You remember Miles saying his mum was Hispanic. Even if his Spanish wasn’t top notch you’re sure he’ll understand at least a few words. Understand the sentences Miguel made you say.

You spot Pav talking with some other spider variants, using large hand gestures. "Pav!" You call, walking up to him.

He shifts his gaze to you, a smile soon following. “Y/n. How are you?”

You smile. “Good…yeah, no I’m good. I was just wondering if you knew where Miles was?”

“Oh.” He spins. “I swear I saw him over there.” He points in a random direction. “…now he’s gone. Maybe with Gwen.” He nudges you, raising his brows. You chuckle, understanding the meaning of those raised brows.

“Well, this will only take a moment. I just need translation for something.”

“Translation? To what language?” Pav asks.

“From Spanish to English. And I heard Miles knows a bit.”

“Ah…wait, but doesn’t Miguel fully speak it?” Pav pauses. ���Yeah, he’d know a lot more than Miles.”

You nod. “He just won’t tell me.” You mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Pav asks, brows furrowed.

You look back up. “Miguel’s just kind of busy right now.” You had no idea if he was or not. “And so I thought Miles might be free.”

“I see.” Pav nods. “Come on, I’ll help you find him.” Pav begins to head down one of the paths in the communal area where bunches of spider variants sat and stood talking.

“Miles!” Pav called out to nowhere in particular. “Miles!?”

“Is yelling his name really gonna help?” Your brows furrow.

“I like to think yelling will conjure up the whole ‘spider-sense’ thing.” Pav says, still gazing around. “Wait, maybe I need to sound more in distress.”

You chuckle, looking around. And that’s when you spot Miles and Gwen. “Miles!” You walk over with a smile. Pav is hot on your heels.

Miles turns, and copies your smile. “Y/n, hey.”

“Okay look, I’m sorry to ask this but can you translate something for me?” You ask, hopeful.

Miles tilts his head slightly. “Yeah, sure. As long as it isn’t French, or Dutch, or Russian. Or practically any language I don’t know.”

Your smile widens. “No, no. None of those. It’s just Spanish.”

“Oh.” Miles stands straighter. “I’ll warn you I don’t know a heck of amount. But I can give it go.”

“Thank you.” You grow more excited in way. All of last night you had been thinking about what you had said, really trying not to just roll over and grab your phone.

“Okay, so it’s two sentences.” You begin. Miles nods. “The first one is…’Me encantaría usar…tu cama para otras…cosas’.” You say it somewhat slowly, making sure you got it right.

When you look back to Miles, he’s staring at you blinking. You stare back. “What?” You ask.

“Um.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’m probably hearing it wrong.” He mutters to himself before he’s looking back to an expectant you.

“What was the second one?” He asks, a little more curious this time.

“Uh…’¿No crees que…me vería bonita atrapada entre…tus sábanas?’”

Now miles is staring at you. You eye him, brows furrowed. “What does it mean?”

He coughs. “Who said that to you?”

“Oh, no I said it to someone.” You answer. “Well, they asked me to say it…”

“You said it someone…” he drifts off, slightly gulping.

“What? Is it…bad?” Your brows are further furrowed. “Come on, Miles, please. I’ve been dying to know what it means all of last night.”

“Well, the first one…it means ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.” He mutters it out extremely quickly. That you think you don’t catch it right.

“What?”

“And the second one means ‘don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets?’.” Miles’ has looked away, scratching the back of his neck again, clearly a fraction flustered.

This time you’re staring at him, or more so through him. Then you blink. “What?” You repeat stupidly. That can’t be right. Why did miguel ask you to say something about his bed…

Now you weren’t dumb you were just…in shock. Because how does that make sense. And as the words settle in your mind a little more, you begin to feel the familiar burn in your stomach.

Recently your skin had begun to feel hot. In specific scenarios, around a specific someone. Every moment that he had touched you in some way you had either been injured, or fainting, so you hadn’t realised the reactions in the moment. But now, having your mind clear and your body healthy enough your skin grows prickly.

Then there was the touches on your chin…

At first you thought that they were a form of showing his superiority. It seemed like something he’d do. But when you really thought about it, you realised that he wasn’t grabbing Peter’s face like that, he wasn’t leaning over a chair that Gwen was sitting at.

Now you’ve grown hot. And your cheeks are probably bright red, considering how Pav is eyeing you. “Um.” You nod. You don’t know why you’re nodding. You just need to do something that isn’t stare off into space.

“Who, um, asked you to say that?” Gwen asks.

You shift your gaze to her, still slightly stuck in your own head. You felt the urge to fan yourself, but realised how implicating that would seem. Miguel got you to say that stuff? That seemed to be a repeating question in your head.

“Oh, uh, nobody.” You didn’t really want to tell them that it was Miguel. You felt it would put pressure on something that you were sure wasn’t even something. It wasn’t…right?

But now as you quickly thank miles and skim past them, your mind is whirring. Did Miguel…? You press your lips together at the thought, unbuttoning the first button of your dress shirt. You were sure you were reading into it. Though…part of you was actually hoping the underlying meaning you were thinking of was the truth.

You were even slightly shocked at yourself at this revelation. It’s as if it had always been on the tip of your tongue. Not falling off because Miguel is well…Miguel.

;;

“What was that about?” Pav asks, watching your leaving form. Gwen watches you go as well, eyes narrowing in her own inspection.

Miles was still going over the sentences in his head, really double checking he got them right. “Yeah…nah, that’s right.” He mutters. “My translations right.”

“Who asked her—“

“Asked who what?” Hobie appeared, clearly just back from a mission, as he leaned against Miles, resting his arm on his shoulder.

“Y/n.” Gwen says. “She asked Miles to translate something for her.”

“See, I knew this guy would be helpful.” Hobie slightly shakes Miles’ shoulders.

“I think someone has a crush on y/n.” Pav says, making Hobie shift his gaze to him.

“Who?” Miles asks, suddenly interested in the small ordeal.

Pav shrugs, but Hobie shakes his head, scoffing. Pav hadn’t seen you and Miguel interact a hell of a lot. Gwen didn’t pay that much attention to people’s gazes, and Miles was well…new. So, maybe Hobie could give them a break, but he still couldn’t believe how oblivious they were.

Hobie began to figure out Miguel’s little crush on you when Miguel had called him in for a last minute mission that Miguel could have easily done himself. He hadn’t needed Hobie.

And when Miguel’s jaw clenched at the mention of how he was supposed to be hanging out with you, Hobie began to clock on.

“Come on, you lot.” Hobie says staring at them. “Tell me, who speaks Spanish here? Fluently?”

Gwen looks down, thinking. “Miguel.”

Hobie nods. “Uh huh.” He presses, seeing their slightly furrowed brows. “Oh bloody hell, you lot are thick.”

“Oh…” Pav mutters. “Oh!” He realises, and Hobie gestures to him, sighing in relief.

“Thank anarchy.” He mutters, thankful one person caught on.

“Miguel likes y/n?!” Pav practically exclaims, earning a few side glances from other spider variants.

“It’d seem so.” Hobie smirks.

;;

Later that evening, you stood, not meaning to feel as flushed as you were. Standing in front of Miguel's bedroom door, you felt hot, your breathing quickening. After having found out what he got you to say—and having gone through the stages of confusion, denial and then shock—you've arrived back to sweaty palms.

You take a breath, knocking, but instead of the solid feel of the door, your hand falls through, the door having been cracked open a fraction—your nervous state must have forced you not to notice. It swings wider and your breath hitches.

Miguel's room is a mess, and not just his bed this time. Things are smashed, and his chair is thrown, lying lifeless on the floor. You then shift your gaze up to a heaving Miguel. He finally notices your presence, meeting your wide eyes.

Miguel had always been someone who was controlled. Sure, he got agitated easy, and clearly had some anger issues to deal with, but 'messy' was never a word you associated with him. And here he was hair ruffled, wet from the outside rain, and covering part of his eyes. His chest heaved to a mismatched beat, as his nose twitched in a snarl, his fangs very visible in the dim light. He looked like the definition of ‘a mess’.

"What are you doing here?" His low tone breaks you from your silent stance, your lips coming closed to rub against each other in...thought? You weren't entirely sure.

You gulp. "Did something...happen?" You scan his body for injuries, but find none. You glance at his open window. "Did you go on a mission?"

"Did you need something?" Miguel doesn't mean for his tone to come out so harshly. And watching your face twitch a fraction made him grind his teeth in annoyance at himself.

"I was going to ask you something, but..." Now you weren't so sure that this moment was the right one.

Miguel gulps, turning slightly away from you. "If you have nothing to say…go."

Yes, Miguel was acting clip and rude with you. And yes...maybe he did turn away so he wouldn't see your expressions. But then he hears your steps slowly draw closer. He shifts his gaze back to you.

Right now was the worst time to see you, he didn't want you to see him, he wanted you to go.

"I thought you had nothing to say?" Miguel briskly asks, but you caught the slight crack in his harsh tone. A crack that displayed a mix of emotions—stress, anxiety,...fear?

Before you know it you're moving closer, your feet, the rain and his breathing filling the other wise silent room. "Now's not a good time." His tone cracked even more. This time with anger.

You stop, a decent distance away. And maybe you should leave, leave him to this. But what is this? You voice that. "What is this?" 'This' as in the mess. 'This' as in Miguel's body language. He looked like he was not even a minute away from exploding.

"Are you...okay?"

Part of Miguel's facade broke at that. "I'm perfectly fine. Do I not look it?" He spits this, fully turning to you. Some droplets of water, that had drenched his hair slides down his cheek.

You know not to be taken aback by Miguel's words. But you'd never seen the word 'crazed' written in his eyes before...'frantic'. "No...you don't look it." You say, eyeing him. "You look...you don't look like yourself."

Miguel mockingly nods, his tongue dragging across one of his fangs, and actually drawing blood. "Right." He forcibly chuckles. "I forgot, I'm supposed to look...what? Composed? On task? In control?" He's stepped closer to you, each word coming out like a snarl.

"Not everything stays the same." Miguel is saying. "Not everything goes the way we plan." He grits out 'plan' like he despises the word altogether.

And as you glance from his hair to the window, to then his too clean of a suit, you realise something. It wasn't a mission, but he had gone somewhere.

"Miguel, where did you go?"

"I didn't go anywhere." He scoffs out.

"Yes you did." You say, narrowing your eyes in thought. And maybe now would be a good time to leave, leave him be. But of course you wouldn't, 'worry' now tieing you up tight. Then you pause. "Why are talking about things that don't go to plan? What hasn't gone to plan?"

"You know, you can be real nosy sometimes." Miguel wanted to punch himself. Why did he say that? You had never been nosy, only observant. Maybe too much for your own good, but it was surely a talent of yours. And here he was shaming you.

But in this moment you weren't fazed. Something was wrong. "Miguel, you've clearly just come in here angry. You're hair's wet from the rain, so obviously recently. Your room is a mess. It's never a mess. You're...never a mess."

"Oh, plenty of things can become a mess, y/n."

"Yeah, but never you. Sure, you've gotten angry before, but you've never trashed a room. There's glass on the floor...you broke that mirror." You gesture to the one hanging on the wall, a prominent fist imbedded in the middle.

"Don't tell me you're gonna deduce where I've fucking been by the glass?!" He was yelling. Not at you. Never at you. At himself. But he's always been very good at projecting. Especially when you're around.

"No." You breathe. "I'm asking you." You say, letting a hint of your concern shine through. You were concerned. Very concerned. Maybe Miguel would have noticed your concern, if he wasn't slowly loosing it. If the messed up room wasn't enough of a tell, he's hit his peak.

"What happened?" You ask again, and this time you finally get a response.

"I fucked up, okay?!" He exclaims, his heart pounding a mile a minute. "I can't take it back. And I've tried. I've really tried. But you know what? Maybe this is meant to happen. Maybe I'm meant to screw everything up."

You stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I..." Miguel drifts off, fisting his already disheveled hair. "I let them take it..." Hs voice has softened. But not to a nice kind of softened—a broken one.

You step a fraction closer. "Who? And take what?"

You can visibly see Miguel's strength ebbing away. He looks exhausted, and all in all done. Done with everything. You didn't like that look, you didn't like the inclination of it. "Miguel." You say slowly.

But he's going farther and farther back into his mind, getting tangled up in thoughts you could tell had begun to haunt him. Screwed up? What had he supposedly screwed up?

Then before your mind could work on overdrive, millions of questions wanting to surface, and before Miguel could step further back from reality, you stepped much, much closer, reaching up on your tip toes. And then you wrapped your arms around his neck...hugging him.

Miguel is frozen. Entirely frozen. His mind stops trying to murder him and the drowning sounds in his ears fade away. Now he can hear your breathing, a nervous beat clear. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should do what he’s thinking.

But then you’re slowly drawing back, arms leaving his body. And he can’t have that. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back to him, as his hands clench around your shirt.

Your breathing hitches as Miguel’s breath hits your collarbone, his head choosing to rest in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing part of your skin.

No. He had told himself he wouldn’t think like that anymore. It was exhausting, and he was tired enough as is. His grip tightened around you. To all the doubtful voices in his head, he was using you to say ‘shut the hell up’.

You could feel Miguel’s entire body practically slump against yours. And though your cheeks were red hot, and your heart was screaming you wrapped your arms back around his neck, your wrists meeting together by his hair.

For once Miguel heard silence. He had always had too many voices in his head telling him this and that. And that ‘this was what has to be done’ and that ‘no, you can’t get distracted’.

Now he felt a much relieving calmness engulfing him. You. His breathing slightly shuddered against your neck, the open of his mouth leading his fangs to lightly brush across your skin.

You shivered at this, earning Miguel to lean his head back. But he didn’t let your waist go. You stopped those voices and he’d be damned if he let you step away from his body now.

Your breathes met, as did your gaze. You were close, the seeming millimetre making you seem even more so. You could feel Miguel’s fingers fiddle slowly with the back of your shirt, your front still pressed against his.

“I’m…” You gulp, your voice coming out much shakier than you intended. “Sorry…I probably shouldn’t have hugged you.” You could practically taste his breath.

“Yeah…you probably shouldn’t have.” His tone is breathy, sounding out of body, as his gaze flickers to your lips.

They’re dry—of course. And now at the close proximity licking them made you feel ten times hotter. You prayed he couldn’t see your blushing cheeks.

“I’m sorry that I just…sorta came in.” You felt you had to fill in the silence. Miguel didn’t seem to mind it though, cause it meant that he could listen to your voice. And replacing your voice with the one’s in his head is probably the smartest choice he could ever make.

Well maybe the second smartest choice… He stared at your freshly wet lips, breathing harder. His thoughts had changed from ‘how much more could he take’ to ‘how much more…more…more’. He wanted more. More of your closeness, this seemed to not be enough.

In response to his thoughts his hands glided up your back, making your body lean more against him. Chest to chest.

“A-and I probably shouldn’t have assumed all that stuff…” you breathe out, as Miguel tilts his head, looking down at you. It’s safe to say your were flustered.

“I think you did alright.” He partially whispered.

“Well…you’re not throwing a chair..so..” Stupid, stupid, stupid—you think to yourself. “I mean…”

And to your shock you notice his lips begin to curve up. And not just to stop at a certain point. No. His lips continued to widen until he was smiling. An actual, genuine smile, that oozed amusement, and it made him look…happy?

“Careful.” You say. “You look like you’re expressing a ‘sparkly emotion’.”

“Oh no.” His grin doesn’t fall, and it only makes your heart beat faster. “We wouldn’t want that…would we?”

You quickly shake your head, and Miguel presses his lips together with further amusement, his eyes darting. “…cute.”

You freeze. And Miguel seems to realise his small slip up, as his eyes grow a fraction wider. He had slipped up in English. Goddamn English. You understood.

But what he didn’t know was that you understood a lot more than just that word. And as the reason for your arrival to his room came back to you, the simple word ‘cute’ seemed to mean a whole lot, lot more.

I’m sorry this one’s kinda short, and not too much is going on. but I wanted them to have a close moment like this before they…well…y’know.

at this point I’ve decided to do nine parts (it fits better) so next part…mhm…FINALLY we can get some closer HaPpIniNgS

plus next part im gonna go onto a deeper dive of where Miguel went and who the masked men are — i just needed a bit of tension filled fluff

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[strkie]

is it really you? logan/wolverine x male winter solider variant reader

logan has never really met a winter soldier before, and you’re not entirely what he expects. he’s not complaining, though.

notes. i love both these characters so obviously i had to mash them up - i actually like how this turned out ^_^

details. deadpool and wolverine spoilers, 1,500+ words, he/him pronouns, soft angst, depression mentioned, blood mentioned, winter soldier canon truama.

They meet you in the Void, naturally.

It's not easy to see nor tell what you are at first— you stay clear of them for a few miles after they escape Cassandra, but Logan can smell your dull and metallic scent on the winds and is aware enough of that to keep an eye out, but either Wade doesn't know or doesn't care and keeps distracting him. Logan only knows you're actually a living thing and not just a trick of his mind until he meets the survivors group of hero's that got pruned in Gambit's hideout, seeing you standing in the back shadows like some kind of menacing monster and instantly recognizing your smell. You wear your mask and combat gear, but the most noticeable thing to Logan is your entire left mechanical arm. The metal plates and gears shift together whenever you move, sparking wires when you push your arm a certain direction.

No one really acknowledges you except Laura and Wade, but he only gives you a big gasp and a quip of "the Winter Soldier too?!" before getting caught up in the task of convincing everyone to take down Cassandra. Even so, Logan can't help but stare at you sometimes, acutely aware of your presence and how dead silent you are. You don't talk, you hardly move, but Logan can tell you listen to everything with a vivid sense of attention.

When the hours pass into night, when Laura talks to Logan by that fire pit, he follows her back into the camp after a few long moments and into a separate room overlooking the forest that surrounds the back. It's easy to follow her but he's sure that's just because she knows he is, walking into the room to see you hunched over a table and digging into the machinery of your arm. You clink around with a screwdriver and welder, moving your metal fingers occasionally to see if you fixed anything. When you see Laura though, you pause, letting her grab the screwdriver from your available hand and helping you. You do not flinch when she pokes and prods, so Logan can only assume you don't feel anything or have the pain tolerance near Logan's own, but either way it's an interesting sight to see the two of you huddled together.

Logan shifts his weight on the doorway, rubbing his knuckles distractedly. Your mask is off, letting him see your face clearly, your eyes staring hard but not entirely unkind at him from your spot by the table. You're attractive, in a begrudgingly way to Logan. He's not used to being attracted to someone, no matter if it's a man or not, and it freaks him out a little— so he buries that feeling deep within himself to ignore.

When the fight comes the next day, when everyone is in the middle of their own world and killing, is when Logan actually sees how deadly you are. Your fast, strong, and take the fight on like you have nothing to loose or gain. When the fight ends though, when Cassandra is gone and everyone is crammed into Wades shitty apartment, Logan thinks about you with a heaviness he doesn't expect. You are there too, of course, but for some reason he doesn't know how to interact with you, especially since he hasn't heard you talk once all this time and how you have this brooding demeanor that rivals Logan's own.

But you interact with Laura with hand gestures and sometimes a whisper to the ear, but he never hears and never tries to actually listen since it's not him you are talking to. Still, you cling to Laura's side unless she's in the middle of a bigger group or conversation, and it's only when Logan gives Dogpool to Wade again is when he fishes you out.

You're by the boxed off kitchen, leaning against the wall near the fridge with a red solo cup that Laura obviously is making you drink, just holding it awkwardly in your hand. You have your combat gear still on but there's a red flannel on your shoulders over the rest to hide your arm, not that it really matters in this crowd, but you seem insecure about it. Logan pretends to be there for something else, obviously— getting another round of fruit punch before he acknowledges you.

"So what's up with you?" He tries not to actively be an ass, but it's hard considering you acutely remind him of himself. Your eyes turn to stare at him, and even without your facial mask covering the bottom half of your face you are still stoic and nonchalant. You don't answer him for long enough that Logan almsot shrugs and calls the whole attempt off— but then you answer in a quiet, albeit rough voice.

"I don't know how to socialize." You say it so pitifully that Logan stops all his movements to consider the situation. He nearly wants to groan in frustration because, even though he is trying, he really doesn't want to try sometimes. But you stand there sadly and still and Logan does internally groan this time.

"Well," He says going to stand next to you, though a comfortable distance away. "How do you know Laura?" You don't turn to the side to look directly at him, but he can feel your surprise radiating off of you at his attempt at socializing. Shifting from foot to foot, you answer slowly.

"I was pruned when I didn't kill Howard Stark, so I'm not- I wasn't in a good headspace. Laura found me before Cassandra did and helped me be... human again." You continue to look forward awkwardly, but you do seem more comfortable the more Logan listens to you.

Logan sits with your explanation for a moment, letting himself have the opportunity to think over his next words. It's not everyday someone like you comes into his life, and he doesn't even mean that you're attractive— he means how complex you are, especially with your long past and how you're trying to find yourself again. He can relate, honestly. When he met the X-Men— Charles— for the first time, Logan wasn't anywhere like he is before they died, or even who he is nowadays. He was a shell walking through life with no help, only looking to survive instead of live. So, yeah, he can understand, but actually seeing someone else be like that hurts in a very vulnerable manner.

"Do you have a place to stay?" He blurts out, surprising himself. You don't show much emotion besides what you reply.

"Laura said I could stay with her." You pause for a moment, pondering. "But I'm not sure what I'll do in this world, especially if their Winter Soldier is still... here." You talk slowly, trying to keep up the conversation yet also trying not to be depressing.

"I'm sure Wade wouldn't mind an extra roommate." Logan says, not caring if Wade actually cares or not because either way he's sure Wade can be persuaded by a couple good stabs.

You actually turn to look solely on Logan now, obviously shocked at the prospect, but you don't seem unwilling either. You let it sink in for a moment, and that's when Logan sees you smile for the first time.

It starts like that, although slowly. You eventually do talk to Laura and Wade about the apartment situation— Laura is obviously very pleased with this outcome if her expression is anything to go by, and Wade is actually quite happy too— but you do talk to Al about it too, who says you and Logan eventually do need to make an income if you can live here. You're not surprised nor upset by this— if you're gonna live in this new world you need employment unfortunately, but you also know the TVA set you up with your own documents to help with that.

You sleep on the couch that rolls into a bed and (some awkwardness on his part aside) Logan eventually bunks with you. You're not complaining at all— when you were in HYDRAs hands the situations were very vastly different and worse, so loading up with someone is not uncomfortable for you, especially when this person is not actively trying to kill you. But also because of this, you are used to curling up into tight spaces despite your bigger size and you don't understand why Logan finds that sad at first, so you stick to one side of the couch bed easily. When Logan realizes the reasoning for this, he slowly starts to move into your space each night. You're not complaining with this, either.

When you're not asleep, you've found yourself a bouncer job at the local nightclub down the street, just near enough that you can walk there. With the Super Soldier Serum still in your veins that grant you heightened senses and strength, it's a relatively easy job, though you get home at weird hours. This isn't really a problem since Logan hardly sleeps, Wade is Wade, and Al has a separate room. But if you're not sleeping before work, Laura has taken it upon herself to teach you how to bake and do laundry the "normal" way, which basically means not just stealing someone else's clothes or washing out primarily blood.

But it's... nice. It's domestic and healthy, two things you aren't accustomed to, and it gets even better since Logan always joins too. At first he didn't— he made it very apparent that he knew how to do these things and found no fun in it, especially baking— but then he joined anyway and hasn't left since. Maybe it's for you, maybe it's for Laura or maybe it's for other reasons you don't know, but you're happy he's around. He's never really involved with the process, but he always stays around to quip or talk about whatever Laura talks about, sometimes just asking you about your job.

Since you technically have no name in his dimension, it's easy to blend into life and start new, but honestly Logan is the one that makes you realize that. He's not nice, he's mean and tough, but then he asks about your day or makes sure you're comfortable when there's a crowd or finishes your dinner plate secretly just so Wade doesn't get offended that you didn't have a lot of his food. You don't understand immediately that you love him, and he can say the same. You just do, and he just does, and it's perfect, even when it's not perfect.

Overtime, you gradually heal your inner wounds and Logan does too, if not slowly, but it happens nonetheless. You kiss him one night coming home from work after waking him up by bouncing on the couch bed, making him grumpy then happy when you suddenly kiss his face. It's obviously unexpected, but it's too easy to continue kissing and loving on him, especially when he reciprocates, and that's how you fall asleep: tucked under him as he sleeps nearly on top of you, nose in your neck and smiling. You both sleep in til one in the afternoon, only waking up from the Dogpool climbing over you both.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ the mood i'm in ❞ ─ an adhd chronicles blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!adhd!reader. summary: sometimes rearranging a whole entire closet is a biological need. content warnings: fluff, adhd antics (i'm diagnosed don't try to come for me) word count: 600+. a/n: this was requested by @ficmeoutofthisworld and i felt the need to make a blurb!verse of it, so expect more fluff for these three 🩵 & the idea of jack calling you honey came from honey is for love by @angellsell

      “Daddy, honey has that weird look again.” Aaron can’t help but smile at his little boy, putting the files he was working on down on his desk, telling him to come closer with his hands. Jack had gotten into the habit of calling you honey very early on in your relationship, that being one of the pet names Aaron used the most when talking to you. It was too endearing to correct him, even after you moved in. You both just let the boy be, knowing that he would call you by name once he got older.

      You didn’t mind him not calling you mom or any of its variants, even if the relationship you shared now was much alike mother and child, Jack didn’t remember a lot of Haley by himself, he was too little, but Aaron always did his best to keep her memory alive in him, so if for his young mind it was easier to call you a pet name, you would take it every single time with a smile. And so would Aaron. 

      “What look, buddy?” He asks even though he’s sure he knows the answer, having been through that a few times over the last two years. 

      “She’s staring at my stuff and sitting on the floor.” Bingo. Every once in a while you would get obsessed with something, it made sense after you were diagnosed with ADHD and he learnt how to accommodate you properly, but for a while it was just a big clash of his organized and controlling nature and your chaotic mind. 

      “Let’s see what she needs, okay?” Jack nods, leading the way with his dad closely behind. They find you exactly as his boy explained to him, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor, staring at his wardrobe so attentively it might scare the unknown eye. 

      “Darling? What’s going on?” He asks without entering the room, not wanting to invade your space before you called him in, instead he decided to lean on the door frame, observing you with his kind eyes.

      “I want to rearrange all of Jack’s clothes but we need more hangers for that and I don’t want to go to the store just to buy hangers, but I also can’t get up to go to the kitchen and check what else we need.” You answered quickly, finishing your ramble with a huff, dropping your shoulders and looking at your fiancé with a pout that made him get closer to you, offering his hands so you could have some support while getting up, you lazily do it, being embraced by him as soon as your feet touch the ground. 

      “Go watch something with Jack, okay?” His tone is always soft, as if your conversations, even the silliest and mundane ones, were secrets for you two to keep. He knew you too well, so he prevented the whine he knew would come–you wanted to get this done, you needed to rearrange Jack’s clothes or the itch in your brain wouldn’t leave–and he did so by holding both of your cheeks with his hands, making you look at him. “I’ll make the shopping list and then you both can go to Target while I get some reports done.” You nod happily, his hands moving with your head. 

      Telling you to watch something with Jack could seem like a mindless choice of words, but it wasn’t, Aaron knew you were feeling stuck and how bad that made you feel, you needed a dopamine kick before you could do something, and no better way for that than colorful silly shows with your favorite boy.

      By the time he’s done with the shopping list, you had already started another important project: Napping on the couch with Jack. So he leaves it attached with a magnet on the fridge, gives you both soft forehead kisses and goes back to work, not minding the fact he did it quickly for no reason, happy you were resting and that it was done for when you decided to shop.

[sasheneskywalker]

fuck or die/mutual non-con/sex pollen batfamily fic recs

A Midsummer Night's Terror: The Great Escape by kleine_aster, njw

A super-villain is on the loose, and he isn't called "The Kinkster" for nothing. On a hot Gotham summer's night, he entraps Batman and his allies, presenting them with a choice—to either succumb to lust, or perish in his maze. Badwrong ensues.

(kleine_aster's fabulous story, with a new ending by njw; posted with permission)

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

erotes by DairyFarmer

Tim never managed to get down to the lab in the cave before Ivy’s pollen wore off.

He was close a few times, got near a few of the entrances when somebody wanted to fuck him somewhere specific. But nobody ever left him alone long enough to reach it.

E | Underage | Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd

What to Do by withthekeyisking

They balked, at first. Tried to talk their way out of it, tried to figure out how they'd escape. Even tried to laugh it off.

But Falcone didn't budge. His deal was clear: either Batman and Nightwing fuck, or he'll kill them all. And with no clear way out and too many weapons to count pointed at them, they have no choice but to comply.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

a little annihilation by wingdingery

Dick knew something was wrong when he went to check on Bruce, but he’d expected it to be some kind of physical injury—a stab wound, maybe, or a broken bone.

In reality, Bruce had gotten himself dosed with a variant of sex pollen that could kill him if left alone. Dick is the only one around who can save him—and he’ll do it, whether Bruce wants him to or not.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

those hands pulled me from the earth by fanfictiongreenirises

Dick and Bruce are both exposed to sex pollen, and neither of them realise quite how potent it is.

DC Dark Week Day 3 - Consent Issues Part 1: Mutual Noncon

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

Never Let Me Go by superbrat

"I want you, Bruce." he says and Bruce chokes, because he doesn’t, not like how it sounds.

"It’s because you're drugged, Dick."

"No," Dick breathes, confused wonderment written all over him, like he’s only just realized. "I don't think it is."

+++

Dick Grayson is kidnapped by sex traffickers, and when Bruce finds him, he's drugged to the gills and begging for Bruce to make it better. They both stumble on feelings they never knew existed.

E | Rape/Non-con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

Please by cadkitten

Of all the places Bruce thought he'd ever find himself, this was not one of them. Thirteen minutes ago Barbara had patched him through to Dick's comm, had heard his adopted son's labored breathing, heard the desperation in his voice when he pleaded with Bruce to come and get him from where he'd holed himself up at and to please bring the antitoxin.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

Sins Of The Father by Nightwang

‘Tim makes the mistake of looking up then, and locks gazes with Bruce, who’s looking over his shoulder. Bruce turns away almost immediately, but not before Tim sees the look in his eyes, something almost indescribable, hollow and frightening. Tim clenches his bound hands into fists and prays he won’t be sick.‘

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson

Psyche-Soma by Fudgyokra

Bruce clenched his fists when he saw the flat side of the blade press against Dick’s crotch. “What is the Batman’s worst fear?”

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Protocol by Disniq

Bruce got a face full of Ivy's pollen. There… there are protocols for this.

For BruRobin Week - Day 2: Somnophilia and Day 3: Sex Pollen

E | Underage | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne (mentioned)

(Grown) Into a Fine Young Man by blasphemybaker

Red Hood is in hot pursuit of Poison Ivy. Batman tries to warn him against chasing her when it is already too late. Jason has been infected with her pollen and Bruce is the only available cure.

Bottom Jason Todd Week 2023 Day 6 - Gentle Rape/Nonviolent Noncon | Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour | Jason is the Youngest AU

E | Rape/Non-Con | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Only A Catalyst by coffeelacedwords

It's moments like this that Jason thinks there's merit to the whole 'you didn't come back right' thing.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Red light, Yellow light, Green light by sunsh4ne

Robin is affected by sex pollen and Batman will always do anything to help out Robin.

Bottom Bruce Wayne October

Day 6: sex pollen/aphrodisiac

E | Underage | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Patrol With Me by Anonymous

"Come on B, you have to admit it's a little funny." Jason shifted uselessly where he sat, trying to swallow past how raw his voice sounded, the way he couldn't quite keep his breath even. "I'm surprised this is the first time this has happened to us honestly, the stories Dick has told me I mean–"

"Stop talking."

A run in with Ivy turns a routine night of patrol into something else entirely.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Fever by October_rust

After an encounter with Poison Ivy, Jason has to take care of a compromised Batman.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Blood on Our Hands by cadkitten

Fate. Luck. Fucking, Karma, the damn bitch. He's no sure which of them put him on this rooftop, watching the disaster below unfold. All he knows is he has to do something. Granted, he and Bruce are still on the outs, but that doesn't mean he can bring himself to just walk away, seeing Bruce and Damian getting their asses beat. He can't have that blood on his hands. Won't have that blood on his hands.

E | Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

Don't Look by cadkitten

"Don't look." The plea came out desperate, half-gasped, as Jason fell to his knees, hands frantically ripping at his clothing.

E | Underage | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

what a harbour I've become by PlatoSaysNo

A drug bust gone wrong leads Robin to his first time, unfortunately.

E | Underage | Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne

Glittering Eyes by withthekeyisking

It was Jason's case, and he didn't need any help, no matter what Dick seemed to think.

Now, staring at the kneeling form of his older brother and the smug smirk on Slade Wilson's face, Jason can admit that maybe he's in over his head.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson

My Brother’s Keeper by Nightwang

“He’d read once that a possible symptom of a heart attack was an impending sense of doom. You knew something bad was going to happen, but you weren’t quite sure what it was going to be. In that moment Dick knew that whatever Roman was about to say it was going to be bad.”

Dick and Jason are forced into a terrible situation.

For this prompt on the DC Kinkmeme.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Tod

Cascading Failures by sirenseven

He's suffered before, and he'll suffer again, and right now he needs to suffer through this too. He'll survive it. It's just his brain telling him he can't.

Or, fuck-or-die, but without any secret pining or remotely romantic feelings. Sometimes it's just guilt and horror.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

safehouse by Jezebunny

When Jason shows up to help Dick, he's moments too late to stop him from being hit by a new formula, derived from one of Ivy's sex pollens.

Of course, it's not as hard to fuck him as it probably should be, given that they're brothers.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

to perish twice by Anonymous

“Jay,” Dick gasps, and when Jason opens his eyes, he’s smiling. He’s smiling.

Something in Jason’s chest gets dislodged between one breath and the next. Something in Jason’s chest is lost forever in the crush of his lungs inflating.

He’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful, and Jason’s hard-on makes him feel monstrous, unclean, tainted. He wraps his heavy arms around Dick’s torso and kisses him again. Anything to stop Dick looking at him like that.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

getting the job done by Eriord

Jason is undercover, trying to infiltrate a gang. Dick is trying to do the same as a stripper.

There's no reason to expect their paths would cross on their first day.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Iceberg by sarriathmg

Two weeks ago. Iceberg Lounge…

The kissing, those sweet nothings whispered… all along with the rocking and the heaving, trivializing the leering of Cobblepot and his men, as if it were only the two of them, as if this isn’t Penguin’s lounge but in one of their safe houses.

And now, two weeks later, Jason is barely hanging on by a thread. He can't stop thinking about Dick, his breathing, his kiss, and his words—“Tell me if I hurt you.”

…to make things worse, his brother is now also stalking him.

Jason can't avoid Dick forever.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

fingerprints all over me (now my throat's choked up and I can't breathe) by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)

“I don’t have my comm, Dick,” is whispered over bare skin as Jason leans in.

There’s a laugh, throaty and wet. No joke has been offered, but no joke is needed.

Two men walk into a bar. Neither walks out.

(Dick is the punchline.)

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

A Secret For Another Soul by boyhostage

Of all the things to be woken up by in the middle of the night, Dick hadn't expected Jason Todd.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson (mentioned)

brother dear by gayrights1987

Dick and Jason investigate a new date rape drug. Black Mask invites them to perform for him.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd

don't say no, just say now by crookedspoon

Jason wakes up next to Dick, drugged up to his ears. They are not alone.

Or, the one in which Slade wins Nightwing and Red Hood in an auction and decides to get his money's worth.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

He ain't heavy by BearlyWriting

For the DC Kinkmeme prompt:

Jason and Tim are in the clutches of a villain together and the villain demands that the two of them provide some entertainment by fucking each other or risk some form of punishment.

Also, for BJTW day four: Fuck or Die.

"And that’s the crux of it. Because what Roman is suggesting - demanding - is sick and twisted and awful, but it’s a hundred times better than having to watch the slathering alphas in the room rape Tim. Jason can smell the heavy alpha arousal in the air, hear their excited breathing. He knows that letting them touch either of them would be a total disaster. At least this way, Tim won’t get hurt."

E | Rape/Non-Con | Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd/Roman Sionis, both of those are forced, Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Force-Fed by meaninglessblah

Tim lives a surreal life as a co-victor of the recent Hunger Games, forced to play the role of the enemies-to-lovers couple with his would-be murderer Jason. But he knows, so long as he plays his part, he can survive the Capitol's obsession with him. He just has to take each day at a time, smile for the cameras, and make no waves.

When Tim discovers the price for survival is set far higher than he ever dreaded it could be, he's not sure he wants to pay the price. He's not sure he has a choice, anyway.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson

Turn My Soul (into a raging fire) by kieran_granola

Not long after his confrontation with Bruce and the Joker, Jason crosses paths with an angry Poison Ivy. She accidentally triggers his heat before leaving him for Robin to find.

Still scared and angry about the incident at Titans Tower, Tim has no choice but to help Jason work through his heat when it turns out that he's been abusing suppressants and could very well die without an alpha to help.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Die a Hero, Become the Villain by arabmorgan

Jason had broken into Robin’s safe space and beaten him bloody mere months ago, and now the boy was tucked against his chest, trembling like a wet puppy.

It just wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

It would have been infinitely better for them both if that fateful day had remained Robin’s worst nightmare.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd (implied)

doomed just enough by withthekeyisking

When Dick and Damian get captured by Black Mask, they're given a simple and sadistic ultimatum: fuck or die.

Dick is horrified, unable to wrap his head around the fact that he has to have sex with a boy he views as his son. But Damian has been harboring feelings for his mentor for a long time now, and it's hard to pretend otherwise when he's finally getting Dick beneath him.

E | Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne

Obedience by Val_Creative

Taking orders never has been difficult for him, Dick suspects. Everything else can be.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne

two birds on a wire by tentaclemonster

Damian is dying and Slade is the only one with the cure. Dick is willing to do whatever it takes to get it, even if it means hurting Damian in order to save him.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson/Damian Wayne

Repeat of Case 9304 by cadkitten

Jason lands beside him a second later, dropping down off one of the AC units. He crouches and grasps Damian's chin, tips his head up and stares him down. "Can you still give consent? Or do you want me to knock you out?" When Damian just gapes at him, Jason flicks open one of the pouches on his belt, extracts a dangerous looking needle, and says again, "Last chance. If you can still tell me you want whatever happens, I let you stay conscious. Otherwise, night night little birdie."

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Damian Wayne

Tie A Knot And Hang On by Nightwang

‘Duke yelps, jerking away. Except Dick comes with him, a strained little grunt escaping him and Duke realises with dawning horror that they’re chained together.’

For the Dick Rare Pair Challenge prompts Duke Thomas and Chained Together.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Duke Thomas

Helpless by Nightwang

‘“What do you want?” Nightwing snapped.

The mercenary smirked. “You.”

Tim’s stomach dropped.’

Slade makes a deal.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Smokescreen by wednesday He’d never in a million years do this with Deathstroke, except it’s exactly what Dick is doing now. Couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to. The skin to kin contact feels like a leash, a whirlpool dragging Dick in and drowning him in the sharpness of every exaggerated sensation.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

in the dark dark night by wednesday Jason's attempt to poison the second of his instructors goes awry when Deathstroke happens to be visiting said instructor the same night.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

I will not take prey on you by BearlyWriting

‘Roman laughs again. His hand comes up to cup the back of Jason’s neck. His mouth is stretched wide with amusement, teeth flashing against the black of his melted mask.

“You’re serious?” he says, a little breathlessly. “You’re seriously going to offer your own ass up to save them?”’

For bottomjasontoddweek Day 1: Forced to submit/allow himself to be raped to save someone.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con | Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Other(s), Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Feeling Trapped by Skalidra

Jason's seen a lot of weird shit in his life. It comes hand in hand with the whole hero thing. Magic, aliens, ghosts, weird mutations that have no business actually happening. Jason's seen a lot, and he's had enough experience to know that there's always something weirder he hasn't gotten to yet. He also knows a lot of it he isn't going to like, because that's his luck. He never gets the cool weird things. He gets the ones that try to eat his face, more often than not.

So waking up groggy and in a cell he's got absolutely no memory of isn't shocking, exactly. It's just unnerving, and really fucking unwelcome.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Like A Man Possessed by meaninglessblah

When he opens his eyes again, Damian’s rising from his crouch, expression solemn and focused. It looks like him, Tim thinks, and smothers another groan as the room pulses.

It’s not. He knows it’s not.

He hopes it’s not.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Ra's al Ghul/Dick Grayson

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia (Part Three)

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

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Contents (part three): Mating cycles, rutting, P in V sex, monster/human relationship, breeding kink, oral (reader recieving).

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: a drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Word count: 6836 notes: smut starts now pls enjoy lol

You didn’t tell Miguel about his variant, nor did you tell anyone else.

You didn’t know exactly why Miguel didn’t like him. Mig had suggested that it was some territorial display, but that seemed hard to believe. You supposed you would just have to live with the curiosity. You knew that any questions you asked Miguel would result in getting stonewalled, or worse, may lead to them finding out you’d broken a direct order.

So you kept your visits secret, and you kept them frequent, because in truth you liked this Miguel a lot. You certainly liked him more than anyone in the HQ. Not to say you disliked your other colleagues, but you enjoyed your time with him in a way you never had with them.

Miguel was strangely sweet. He was incredibly awkward, clearly lacking much social interaction since his unfortunate splicing incident, but he did his best to be kind and accommodating.

You spent full days when not on call just hanging around in the glade with him. At first you just talked, but over time you started getting up to more.

He took you on trips to the top of the forest where you could see the stars, even letting you ride on his back when you got tired. You sat beneath silk shields while it rained and dozed off at his side. You helped brush out the abdomen fur he couldn’t reach, and he in return helped massage your wrists when they got sore from webbing.

You brought him food and tech for him to experiment on, and he in turn brought you little items made of his silk. One time you mentioned that you’d run out of socks so he knitted you a pair, and another time he patched up your suit for free. He always said you attention was payment enough.

You’d started calling him Migs, and he’d started calling you ‘arañita’ as a show of friendship.

You were quickly falling head over heels for the man. He was undeniably handsome and just so attentive to you in ways no one else had ever been, it was hard not to crave him.

Today you were prepped to leave as usual. You hadn’t been called for any missions and you could see your superiors were also free, meaning they’d definitely get picked first if anything happened, making today a sure write-off.

In a quiet corridor you began inputting the location of Mig’s universe. You weren’t expecting anyone to come by here, but you were very unlucky.

‘What are you doing?’

You jumped as a man’s voice barked behind you. That voice was uncannily familiar now.

‘A-Ah, boss, hey!’

You spun to find Miguel staring down at you with his usual sour expression, his lips pursed and brows knotted. Nowadays he always seemed bothered by something. You offered him a polite smile.

‘Is- is everything okay, or—’

‘What are you doing?’

His bark of an order made you freeze. God, he was so different to your Mig. Spider Miguel almost never raised his voice. He was quiet, stoic, awkward but trying his best to be empathetic. This Miguel seemed so tightly wound in comparison.

‘I- I’m just, going home’ you said, shiftily hiding your watch. Miguel narrowed his eyes.

‘Why are you up here?’

‘I’m just… I’m just, getting out of the way so I can send a few messages before going’ you said, your politeness beginning to slip. You didn’t appreciate his prying.

He took a step closer, boxing you into the corner. You felt so small in his presence.

Then, to your confusion, he closed his eyes and breathed. It wasn’t normal breathing though, oh no, this was deep. It was long, drawn out, deliberate. Was he, smelling? Was he smelling you?

When he opened his eyes again, they were burning red, their light reflecting onto your cheek.

For just a brief moment your gut knotted with anxiety. Why wasn’t he moving? What was he going to do? You realized that in your attempt to be alone you’d wound up in a corridor corner with no other spiders around. How had he even known you were here? Was he following you?

‘Hmm.’

To your relief, Miguel grunted and withdrew. He looked even more tightly wound than before. ‘Just- be, safe’ he mumbled, and without another word he stormed away. His body looked rigid.

You wasted no time in drawing up a portal the second he was gone.

On the other side it was a beautiful evening, with the sky above radiating soft, deep shades of indigo and red. You hurried into the forest with just the light of your watch to guide your way.

You tried your best to forget Miguel as you followed the usual landmarks to Mig. The mushroom patch by the dead stump, the little winding brook you had to jump across, the patch of stones which you’d stacked to look like a tiny house.

Why was Miguel acting so weird? He’d never paid attention to you before. You’d felt like a fly in his space, an annoying gnat he was trying to push off onto anyone else, so to have him cornering and questioning you was absurd.

What had changed? Did he somehow know you were visiting his variant?

You frowned at that thought. Jesus, you weren’t a child. You didn’t have to obey him, this was your private, personal matter. Mig was your friend. You had a right to see him.

At last you entered the big clearing where you and Mig usually met to hang out. You were surprised to see he wasn’t there.

‘Mig?’

You called his name and kicked a few stones around. Where was he? You cried his name again and spun in a circle. ‘MIG! Mig!’

A soft, sweet breath suddenly hit your nape. You froze up.

You could feel his shadow at your back. You could feel the weight of his body, the brush of his breath. You could see the little hint that his eyes were close, as tiny, reflected shards of red light began to dance over your shoulder.

You grinned and spun around, wrapping your arms around his waist. You squeezed in tight to that familiar body.

‘Mig! You—ARGH!’

With a groan your body was smooshed into the dirt. His entire monstrous form came down on your frail chest, pinning you to the ground. His clawed human hands found your wrists and your throat, holding them in place, as his abdomen came down on your lower torso. He rustled slightly against you as you wheezed.

‘M-Mig?’ you croaked.

Your eyes met. His were burning red, almost bloodshot, wide and dilated. He panted on your face, his fangs bared. He hissed.

‘You… You…’

He panted those words a few times. He was shaking, you realized, like he was holding something back at great physical expense. After a moments silence he grunted and physically forced himself off.

‘Mierda- mierda, ah- I’m so sorry, arañita, I’m- so sorry.’

You shuffled into a sitting position. ‘Mig? What- are you okay?’

‘You need to go’ he insisted. He was pacing wildly now, drifting closer to you before hurrying back. It was like some invisible force was driving him back to your body.

It was only then that it clicked. The tension in his body, the heavy breathing, the dilated pupils and twitching abdomen. Your spider senses picked it up quickly once the panic died down.

‘Oh, you’re—’

He was rutting. Of course he was, you thought, as your face burned up with embarrassment. He was a spider after all. He was in breeding mode, and your presence must be an unbearable distraction.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t- want to conduct myself, poorly’ he grunted.

‘No, it’s okay- you, I mean you’re doing fine! I get it, it’s not your fault, you’re- you’re you, I get it. I can um- I mean is there anything I can do? To help? I could—’  

You tried to take a step forward, hoping to comfort him by taking his foreleg paw, but he pulled away. He’d never pulled away from you before.

‘No, that’s not- you, you’re making it worse’ he blurted.

Instinctively you frowned. ‘I’m- what do you mean I’m making it worse? I’m not, trying to—’

‘I’m sorry’ he blurted again, his hands raised. ‘I’m sorry, arañita, you- mm, fuck—’ He paused to scrape his claws down his face. They didn’t break the skin but it was clear he was trying to claw back some control. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. You’re right. You haven’t done anything. It’s not your fault, but you—’

He put his hand to his mouth, his eyes turning to the side. He looked horribly embarrassed.

‘You, you’re…’

‘I’m, what?’

He rubbed his jaw and groaned a little, as if it was painful to admit. ‘You- you’re in heat’ he hissed.

You blinked at him, too shocked to reply right away. ‘I… I’m, wh- I’m what?’

‘You’re in heat, arañita’ Miguel repeated through gritted teeth. ‘You’re- ovulating. I can smell it. The- you’re letting off, pheromones, and it’s…’

‘It’s setting you off’ you said, your voice wheezing as you said it. Miguel gave a mortified nod. Now both too embarrassed to face each other you turned and stared into the forest, your arms tightly folded as if they would hold you together. 

‘I’m sorry, Mig, I didn’t—’

‘You have nothing to be sorry about’ Miguel insisted. You began tapping your foot.

‘You- I would have understood, Mig. I DO understand. You could have told me.’

‘You’re my friend’ he insisted. ‘I didn’t want to make things weird, but I can’t… God, you smell so, good—’ Your heart thudded a little harder as Miguel turned in a circle, trying to hide his arousal.

‘I’m a pervert’ he hissed. ‘I’m a- filthy, pervert—’

‘What? No, you’re—’

‘I can’t lie.’

You paused at Miguel’s aggressive interruption. You could see his claws were out, his hands trembling as he struggled to maintain this polite conversation.

‘I can’t- lie, even if I wanted to. It’s not in my nature. So listen to me. Listen to me clearly.’

You slowly nodded and settled down on the earth, bidding him to continue. He swallowed hard. It was clearly hard for him to get out, but as another breeze blew your scent into his nose something primal overtook him.

‘All I can think about, is breeding with you’ he rasped. ‘I want you to have my babies, arañita. All I want to do is just- tear through those clothes, and taste your pussy, and web you down so I can penetrate you. I want to- feel you, from the inside. I want to fill your tight little cunt with my seed and plug you so no one else can have you. I want my genes in you so much it hurts.’

You felt your face getting warmer with each word. You were a little offput by the feel of your own clit throbbing in response to his fantasy.

‘If you stay, I won’t have any control. My- urge, is burning me up. So, please…’

With a soft whine he shuffled again, trying his best to not get erect as your dizzying scent filled his nose. You watched as he tried to turn away.

He was giving you the chance to leave. You could go, now, and presumably return when his rut had died down and your ovulation had ended. You could go and pretend this never happened.

That’s what he was offering. But, is that what you wanted?

Part of you was afraid. You didn’t know what would happen if you stayed, and yet, another part of you was deeply curious, and that part was being fed by your fear. You didn’t want to admit it, but the fear aroused you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you began to tread the waters of this strange, unbroached pool, coaxing a little more.

‘Why me?’

He turned at your question. It was clear that it was getting harder for him to resist the urge.

‘Is it, just- I’m close by and I’m in heat, so… You know, I’m just- convenient?’

‘No. No, arañita. You’re- perfect’ he murmured, his voice dipping into a slight moan. He seemed like he was on a hair trigger, physically straining under the weight of his own lust.

‘You’re in heat, yes, but it’s more than that. I like you, you’re- kind, and powerful, and thoughtful. You have spider genes, like me, so- we’re genetically compatible. And you’re- you’re, so, small.’ He whined on the word small, like it did something extra perverse to him. ‘Small, safe, strong, beautiful. Unbred.’

He crept a little closer and you sank into the floor, letting his body overshadow your own. He was shaking with intensity, crawling on his belly like a dog begging for scraps.

‘You’re too perfect, you are- priceless. Mi tesoro. I would do anything to have you. Which is why…. Please, I can’t—’

He turned again and physically bit his lip. You could feel his tension like a force, as if just his desire to grab you was manifesting in the air.

And yet, still, you refused to leave.

You couldn’t help it, something about him enticed you. Perhaps you were sensing his hormonal changes as well, and it was swaying some deep and primal part of your mind. Perhaps you were just horny.

But god, you were a pervert too. The idea of that massive man in all his monstrous glory holding you down and taking you in the dirt was so incredibly arousing.

And it’s not like you weren’t attracted to him outside of that. He wasn’t a normal man, but he was ruggedly handsome. You liked his face. You liked his chiselled jaw and open, honest eyes. You liked his thick, stocky, muscular body.

There was an allure to him, one you were quickly realizing might just be enough to make you stay.

You remained seated in the dirt beneath him, and gradually he began to turn back. His eyes widened. You hadn’t left.

‘Are, you—’

‘I can… at least, relieve some of that tension, maybe. If you wanted’ you murmured.

He moved closer on instinct. You could sense the tension in his body as his spider legs tapped back and forth. He was holding back the urge to do something. Web you down? Grab you? All those ideas excited you.

‘I would be a good mate’ he whispered as he bent down towards you. His legs folded so his torso could find yours, his clawed hands cupping your face. ‘I’m strong. I’m fit. I have good genes. Our babies would be well cared for.’

You knew his hormones were compelling him to speak. You didn’t know how to say that none of that stuff bothered you, that all you cared about was letting this ruggedly handsome beast rail you into the dirt until you couldn’t feel your legs.

‘Can- I mean, can we, actually… Are we compatible?’ you whispered.

‘I have some- adaptations, but, yes. I can attach the genetic package to my pedipalps and transfer, or…’ Almost shyly he moved upward, showing off his abdomen. ‘As a partial human, I could… May I show you?’

You gave a quick nod. He looked a little embarrassed at first, but in the heat of the moment he caved.

A small slit widened on the abdomen beneath his torso, right between his two smaller forelegs. The black and red fur parted to reveal an erect phallus. It was red with black veins, long with a slight curve and a thick point at the end.

‘With you, I can just… transfer directly.’

You felt your whole body throb at the sight. Without thinking your hand drifted forward, measuring his erection with your fingers and palm. You almost choked; he was huge. You wrapped your fist around the thick, girthy, veiny shaft and gave it a soft stroke.

‘Ah- mi arañita—’

Miguel’s lips fell apart at your sudden touch. His whole body shuddered and jolted, trying to push it into your hand. You gave in to your own throbbing clit and gingerly gave it a lick.

‘A-Ah-! F-F-Fuck—’ His mouth widened with a mixture of shock and excitement, as the brush of your tongue caused his fangs to flex and involuntarily squirt venom down his jaw.

His whole body shivered with excitement as his phallus throbbed in your hand, precum pooling from the tip. You tasted a bit of that too; it was strangely sweet.

‘Okay, okay- careful, arañita, I don’t- I’ll ravage you if you keep this up. I don’t want to hurt you. Let- let me do you, instead’ he whined.

‘Do, me? How—’

You squeaked as he tripped you, causing your body to fall into his outstretched human arms. With his spider legs he began to draw a line of silk, carefully knitting a kind of sticky hammock for your body to lay on top of. He dropped you into it the second he was done.

‘Come here, mi cariño.’

He bent until his human half was against your belly, his lips kissing from your navel to your inner thigh. You shuffled on the web but its light, sticky coating kept you stuck on your back.

He cupped your lower back in his clawed hand, drawing you up. With your legs now on either side of his head, he buried his face into your clothed pussy.

‘Mm…’

He breathed in deep, letting those sweet pheromones only he could smell fill his brain. His erect phallus throbbed.

‘You- smell so good.’

With his fangs he grabbed and tore a chunk of your suit aside, revealing your panties underneath.

‘H-Hey--!’

In his ravenous, pussy drunk state he didn’t even wait to remove them. He wound his tongue under the fabric and snuck a taste of your clit, eagerly lapping at the sensitive folds beneath. Your body shuddered with pleasure.

‘F-Fuck- careful, ah-‘

‘Need—more—’

With a hiss he pulled back. He allowed his claws to slice your suit from crotch to neck, splitting it open. In seconds your whole naked body was on display.

‘H-Hey, woah! I need that!’

‘I need you- please, fuck—’

His whole body shifted closer as he began to ravage every part of you he could get at. You felt his clawed hands squeezing and pinching your belly and waist as his lips caressed your chest, eagerly sucking on and biting at your nipples.

He ran a line of kisses down your body to your thighs. There, with one final, guttural growl, he tore your panties aside. You felt him breath in your scent. One deep breath in and one deep, hot breath out, one that caused your hips to squirm at the sensitivity.

‘Mine.’

With that final word he buried his face into your cunt. You let out a breathy scream, one that was quickly drowned by the empty forest. No one would hear you here but him.

Miguel continued to let out muffled groans as he sucked on your clit. He settled with his nose gently bumping the tip of your lips as he lapped at that sensitive nub, his head bobbing with each hard movement as he savoured the taste.

You were embarrassed at how quickly he managed to hit your spot. Your body was already hot and tight from just the thought of this, but the taboo of letting this monster touch you like this in the open forest was making you so much hotter.

You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You had no idea what he could do to you, but that made it so much better.

Your skin was flushed, beading with sweat, and your clit was swollen to the point that it hurt. It was throbbing with a carnal need to be pleasured, and right now his tongue was doing a heavenly job of easing that ache. Now trapped in his web with his lips on your cunt, his gorgeous face perfectly framed between your thighs, your climax was inevitable. It rose up like a wildfire.

‘Migual- fuck, I’m gonna—’

With a soul-shattering shudder you came on his tongue. Your hips bucked with each flood of pleasure, your body jolting against your will. Your mouth fell open and a low, desperate moan left your lips, all while Miguel continued to suck on your clit.

‘Oh, fuck—fuck you’re so, good, y-you’re so good Mig, fuck…!’

Soon your body was lulling in that post-cum exhaustion, your chest heaving as you panted. You expected to have some time to recollect yourself, but Miguel had other ideas. He wiped his jaw clean of your gushing slick and pulled himself up to leer over your body. He looked utterly intoxicated, practically high off your body.

A low, grating noise left his throat as he put his left hand on your wrists, pinning them together, while his right hand went down to your soaked slit.

You didn’t see his hand enter you, but you felt it. You let out a raspy moan as one of his thick fingers penetrated your untouched hole, followed by a mewling whine as his thumb hit your overstimulated clit. He bit his lower lip as you squirmed on his hand.

‘That’s it’ he murmured, his voice husky. ‘One more for me, please. I need to- I need to make sure you’re ready for me.’

He started with one finger but soon moved to two, then finally pushing you to three. His fingers were rough and calloused from living in the forest, and you felt them very clearly as they began to squish in and out of your body.

Between the hard thrusts of his fingers and his thumb gently stroking your spot, not to mention the terrifyingly arousing image of his half spider body leering down over your head, you quickly shuddered into your second climax.

‘Good, arañita’ he praised, practically breathless as he watched you mewl and whine and spasm on his hand. His cock twitched again with anticipation. ‘Good, good arañita. Thank you.’

Miguel carefully slipped his hand aside, greedily licking your juices from his claws. You were utterly drained, your body limp at his feet.

He narrowed his eyes. You were in the perfect state.

With careful movements Miguel bent down until his hands could find yours. He interlocked your fingers together and pressed his lips to your own, and even in your dizzy state you managed to return the kiss.

The distraction of his lips allowed him to carefully pull away the rest of your tattered suit with his spider legs, leaving you fully naked. When the cold air hit your skin he parted his lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth to further distract you. You eagerly gave in.

‘Mm- Miguel—’

His name was muffled on your lips by his own tongue as he moved to lift you into his arms. He broke the kiss once you were fully supported in his grip, allowing a long line of saliva to hang between you. He panted, hard, and licked your spit into his mouth before licking his fangs.

‘Now, mi arañita, may I have the honor of mating with you?’ he begged.

You gave a shaky, sleepy nod. ‘Y-Yes, please. Please.’

Miguel didn’t waste any time. He knew this was his one chance, and his primal spider senses were hounding him to consummate. With your body limp in his arms he crept towards one of the larger pines.

‘Shh, careful. I’m- going to put you up here, it’ll make it easier for your bodies to fit together’ he soothed. You just moaned.

Miguel held you with utmost care as he started to spin new webs, this time using them to carefully stick your body in place against the tree. He webbed your waist and belly in place before webbing your legs on either side of the trunk, keeping them spread, and at last finished by webbing your wrists together above your head.

The subtle binding was another part of his instinctual ritual. It was supposed to keep you calm. In truth, as you stirred in his web, it just excited you more.

Now bound and naked against the enormous oak you shuffled in the web, testing its strength. It held firm. It was sticky on your skin, warm and sinewy on the flesh, tight but not constrictive.

You could squirm, yes, but you couldn’t break free, and most importantly your legs were stuck in their separated position. You were shamelessly spread wide, and the cold air on your drenched sex was sending chills up your spine. Your hole clenched around nothing.

‘F-Fuck, ah- okay, okay—’

You glanced down and watched as Miguel began to climb the tree. He mounted you with absolute care, keeping his human torso close to yours as his spider body curled between your spread legs.

‘That’s it. I’ll be gentle’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be- careful, just- please, let me fuck you.’

You bit your lip as he pushed up. You could feel his phallus twitching for attention as his breath hit your forehead. You could tell even just from the tip nudging at you, desperately probing your slit, that he was going to split you open.

‘Ah- Miguel—’

He nestled into your hair, breathing in your scent. ‘This- might hurt a bit, but, I will be gentle. Just try to relax.’

‘F-Fuck—’

Your breath came short as he started to slip inside you.

His phallus was huge, smooth but huge, and his entrance was a struggle. He had to pump it carefully to get it deeper. Your slick was helping him loosen you up but even at your most aroused it was barely enough, and he was forced to nudge at your cunt to make it stretch for his girth.

He grit his teeth to stop himself pushing you too far. ‘Come on- come on, let me- in, please—’

After a good few pumps and a few squirms from you, he finally fit. He was inside you. You winced as he bottomed out.

‘F-Fuck, Mig you’re- huge—’

‘Ah… ah, that’s it. That’s it. You’re mine now, arañita. It’s done. It’s over.’

You were stuffed to the point of being immobile. Every little motion you did made you painfully aware of his cock inside you, throbbing and compressing on every inch of your insides.

You stole a shaky glance down, and realized with both horror and arousal that there was a bulge in your belly where’d he’d pushed in.

Miguel groaned and dug his claws into the bark on either side of your head. He must have sensed your discomfort as he quickly moved to keeping you distracted.

‘Mi hermosa arañita’ he praised, his lips brushing your forehead. ‘You feel- delicious.’

As he showered you in kisses and praise, he started to rut between your legs. His entire, enormous abdomen began to jerk back and forth, sliding his phallus in and out.

‘That’s it, just take it. You’re taking it so well.’

‘Fuck, fuck- Mig, you- feel so, good—’

‘That’s it, you can take it. Mm… Mm… Just let me breed with you, please.’

You lay back as he started to bite at your neck, eagerly nibbling and rolling the flesh between his fangs. You tried to adjust to the sensation.

It was strange, the feel of hot skin against your bare chest mixed with the rough, fluffy flesh of his spider half, both rubbing against your body as he pushed in and out. You could feel him moaning against your skin.

He started to thrust a little harder, drawing almost all the way out before pumping back in. You felt his abdomen smacking against yours with each gruff penetration. A cacophony of sound filled the quiet forest: the smack of skin on skin, the wet sliding squelch of slick and cum, the soft rustling of his spider body and the desperate pants and moans from your joint mouths.

You let out an extra loud moan as his cock began to rib at your g-spot. You clenched him, tight, and he scraped the bark by your head in response.

‘I can’t- believe, I- get to mate with you’ he whined. He seemed rapturous. ‘You’re such a- perfect catch.’

He began to grunt rhythmically with each insertion. You could feel him probing, touching, tasting every inch of your insides. His soft front-legs were pawing at your hips.

‘I would have fought for you’ he hissed. You clenched harder as he nudged at your cervix, right at the same moment his foreleg found its way to your clit. He began to massage that little knub as his thrusting continued.

‘I would have killed males twice my size for you. All for you.’

‘Mig…. Ah—’

You let out a shameless whine as he hit each spot. You were already overstimulated from cumming twice, and now his girthy phallus was bullying you from the inside while his sensitive foreleg began to bully your clit.

‘But you’re all mine’ he groaned. ‘You- gave, yourself- to me—’

Your bodies were almost totally glued together at this point, with sweat and webbing connecting you by the skin. His hot, sweaty abs and pecs were squished against your chest and belly, each moving in unison as he fucked you into submission.

You rasped with a mixture of pain and pleasure as he started to get rough. He bared his fangs against your cheek in a territorial display.

‘My mate. Mi tesoro. Mi arañita. Mine.’

Between the wet slip of his cock and the soft massaging of your clit, you could feel a third orgasm rising. It felt so much more intense like this. You kept tensing and twitching, your muscles squeezing him tight, allowing you to feel every single veiny inch of his shaft.

He must have noticed you getting close as he started to whine, begging and nestling himself into your hair like he was pleading for your favor.

‘Cum for me’ he groaned. ‘I want to feel it. Please. Ah—cum on my cock, please.’

He started to speed up as if he could force it out of you. Somehow, he was right.

With an exhausted shudder you climaxed for the third time. You screamed for this one, as your mind went blank the moment those orgasmic spasms rippled through your body. It was so much more intense while being fucked. You felt his cock nudging each violent burst of pleasure from inside you, and his self-satisfied whines against your head just added to your gratification.

‘Thank you, thank you—’ With each desperate expression of gratitude Miguel gave another sharp thrust.

Your body was a mess at this point, and all you could do was relax into the binding web and let him have you. He continued to hump vigorously towards his own climax.

He could feel it getting close. He could feel the throbbing of his cock increasing, as every hair on his body stood up. His vision was getting spotty. Some deep animal part of his brain took hold and compelled him with one overpowering desire: he had to cum in you. He had to cum now.

‘Okay, just- gotta, feed it through- gently now—’

Miguel grit his teeth as his cock throbbed. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

‘I’m- going to cum in you now, okay? Just, a-ah- stay still. This will probably feel, strange—’

You squirmed in the bindings as he started to pump harder. He was erratic, rough, utterly drunk on his own primal desires.  

‘Just like that, just- take it gently—’

And then, you felt it. He orgasmed abruptly inside you with a guttural moan, and bit by bit you felt his cock pulsing that thick seed into your pussy.

It was strange, like he’d warned. Load after load, rope after thick rope, filled the limited space of your insides until it was physically leaking down his shaft. He had to pull back and give shorter, desperate little humps to make room while still filling you with the last of his seed. You moaned through it all.

Slowly the throbs got shorter, less violent, until he’d thrust the last spurt into your opening. The two of you collapsed into a whining, panting mess.

‘Ah… finally. Finally.’

As he slipped out you realized that he’d squirted some kind of web secretion alongside his ejaculate, and your inner thighs was now coated in sticky webbing. You whined at the sight, as did he.

He was fixated on the cum oozing from your body and down your thighs. It was ridiculously thick. He was proud of that, but he couldn’t stand to see it wasted.

Using one of his spider legs he gently scooped up what cum he could and pushed it back inside you. He nudged it deeper, as deep as he could, before shifting his abdomen down and sealing you off with another smearing of web. You were too exhausted to even move.

‘Perfect’ he purred. ‘There. That-that should keep you plugged. Thank you, I can’t- say that enough, thank you.’ He pressed one shaky kiss to your forehead alongside his thanks.

In that post-cum daze you tried to gather your thoughts.

Oh god, what had you done? Had you really just done this? Had sex with a massive spider hybrid, unprotected?

Before you could think about it Miguel had begun cutting you down. He released your body from the thick web, but he didn’t let you go free. Instead, he wrapped you into a thin sheen of silk that acted as a blanket, covering you from the cold, before taking you into his human arms and carrying you down to his den.

It was a slightly uneven oval made of webbing, suspended between two giant pine trees with a small hole for entrance. He slid inside with your body tight to his chest.

‘Here, mi tesoro. You rest. You did so good.’

As you turned to look around you were surprised to find that the room was far warmer inside than its eerie exterior implied. He’d hung little firefly lamps on the walls to give it a soft orange glow, and the floor was covered in crude furniture made from wood and leaves. He had tables, desks, all covered in similar half-finished technology that the other Miguel’s office had, but he also had hand-crafted chairs and shelves adorning his home.

He crawled through the cosy little nest and lay you down on a silk-spun mattress in the corner. You sank into it immediately.

‘Ah… t-thank you’ you mumbled. Miguel just chuckled.

‘It’s the least I can do. You’ve done far more for me.’

You were too busy enjoying the luxurious bed to notice Miguel as he sank down beside you. His weight on the mattress did cause your body to bounce a few inches into the air, but the moment he settled you slid down to nestle against his side.

‘What’d you mean? I- barely did anything’ you asked with a yawn.

He pulled you in close and sighed. ‘You fool’ he murmured affectionately, ‘you gave me everything. I’m not stupid. Mating with me can’t be easy.’

‘Mm… I mean, I thought it was, really easy’ you sleepily chuckled. ‘Almost too easy.’

He gave a little exasperated head shake. Really you could have been saying anything right now and it would have endeared him to you. He already liked you, but now his hormones on top of that were compelling him to protect you, to keep you.  

‘Pretty little thing’ he whispered. You didn’t hear.

For an hour or so you drifted in and out of sleep at his side while he kept watch. He guarded your body jealously, like a dragon over treasure, with his dark red eyes solemnly fixed on the door. It was like he was waiting for someone to take you away.

As the sun began to set you finally awoke properly, and realized just how long you’d been absent. You noticed your watch beeping and groaned.

‘Argh… I should probably get back to work, but… I really just want to stay here’ you grumbled. The idea of leaving this place, where you were treated so tenderly as this special little one in a million creature, it was difficult to justify.

To your surprise Miguel bristled when you mentioned leaving, his soft black and red hair standing on end. You felt his claws grip you a little tighter.  

‘Ideally, I’m- supposed to keep you here’ Miguel murmured.

‘What? Why?’

‘Can’t have any competition.’

You felt his hands squeezing your flesh as he pulled you close to his abdomen. It was so warm, so strangely fuzzy and soft.

‘I… I assumed that was what the sealing was for.’

Miguel sniffed, his lip curling to reveal one of his fangs. ‘It is. But someone could remove it.’

You let out a sleepy chuckle. ‘Who?’

His eyes narrowed then, his fangs fully bared. ‘Your boss, for example. My, other variation. If you go back, and he smells you, he could… well, like I said, we are territorial. We don’t like competition. He would attempt to clean you of my genes and probably replace them with his own, if he could entice you.’

You blinked in surprise at this revelation. Wait, was that why HQ Miguel kept looking at you strangely? Did he know? Could he, as Miguel here said, smell it?

‘But… I thought, you were rutting because the- I don’t wanna be mean, but um- the splicing? You, being—’

‘He’s just as half-spider as I am’ Miguel grumbled. ‘He just doesn’t look it. But I guarantee he can smell the same as me, he- feels the same urges.’

‘I- Huh. Huh.’

You rolled onto your back to ponder that fact. Mig had always been honest enough, so you believed him that he at least believed the other Miguel would try to entice you too. Did that mean it was actually dangerous to return? Would anyone else smell Mig on you?

Your mind wondered back to the issue of what exactly you’d done here. Was this a mistake? Should you have let this giant spider monster have sex with you?

Now that you were more lucid, the answer was clear. Yes. A thousand times yes.

‘You know, Mig, the- benefit, to being partly human, is I can say very clearly that I don’t want anyone else.’

You felt him bristle with surprise as you spoke.

‘You… you don’t?’

‘Nope.’

‘But- me?’

‘Yeah. You. I like… big.’

The soft arousal in his eyes was palpable. You liked the way his little abdomen twitched and wriggled, almost like a dog shaking its tail.

‘You… You like, me? You liked… it?’

You let your eyelids droop as you pressed against his lower human half, stroking the curves of his pelvic muscles.

‘I like big. I like- rough. I like you.’

His back spider leg did a little stamp against the webbed floor. He was adorably excited by even that small compliment. He bent down to your height while emitting a low purring noise from his throat.  

‘Well… most, spiders, ideally try to mate multiple times. If the, partner is willing’ he murmured. You could already hear that the brief respite your copulation had brought was slipping away. His voice had dipped, growing husky and smooth, a sure sign of his hormonal heat returning. You gave a sleepy chuckle.

‘What about the seal?’

‘I’ll remove it’ he purred. ‘I’ll remove it, cum in you again and then seal you back up. Over, and over.’

Just the words caused a soft moan to escape your lips. You curled closer. ‘Mm. You’re lucky I enjoyed it then. Can I at least rest up a bit first, though?’

His eyes were affectionate as he watched you curl into a ball against his fluffy abdomen.

‘Of course, arañita.’ Miguel bent to press his lips to your cheek. ‘Rest all you want. But�� I will have you again.’

His soft words and warm breath made you shudder. There was an intensity in those words. ‘I will take you again, and again, until it sticks.’

‘Don’t- don’t you mean, just, until the heat finishes?’

A soft smile spread across his face as his eyelids drooped. ‘No. Because it will stick. There’s no doubt about that. I will get you pregnant.’

You gasped as his teeth suddenly hit your neck, his lips trailing down your naked chest. You felt his full weight as he held you beneath him.

‘I just hope it takes a little longer, so I can enjoy you fully. Mi hermosa arañita.’

Link to part four

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Grass

Debut: Super Mario Bros. 2

Hey guys! Did you know that Super Mario Bros. 2 was originally a reskin of a game called Puck-Man, but they changed the name so people wouldn't vandalize the cabinets and make it say Q*bert? Anyway here's Grass

I hope you like Grass. I hope there are some ruminants among our readers who get so hyped upon seeing a depiction of grass. But I don't care about the grass itself. I care about what's underneath... Funny Vegetables! The kind to throw at a Shy Guy or a Tweeter! Let's look at each Vegetable's NES and SNES design, and discuss them!

Turnip is the most iconic of the These Vegetables. Not the most iconic vegetable, but the most iconic Mario Vegetable. It's the main one that gets referenced, reappears as of Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker, and is even part of Peach's Smash moveset! Where they make even more variants that I don't feel like getting into here for the sake of post length. I quite like Turnip's classic brow(s), though they would be removed, along with the mouth, in future iterations. Such is brand identity.

In Minion Quest and Bowser Jr.'s Journey, Shy Guys' main method of attack is throwing turnips! I like that a lot. It references their debut and is just a very whimsical thing!

I would expect to pull up a turnip from the ground, but lookie here! A couple of Fruits. It's unclear if these are pumpkins or bell peppers, and they come in red and green, which are both options for both fruits! Neither of the options, however, grow underground, so maybe they were playing hide-and-seek. It would explain their surprised expressions! They thought that was such a good hiding place, and it was! Also, I am not averse to calling these fruits vegetables. "Vegetable" is just a culinary term, referring to a part of a plant that we eat! Every fruit is a vegetable. Blueberry pie is a Vegetable Dessert. Words are fun!

Beet is the happiest vegetable we've seen so far! But oddly thin. I hope it's not malnourished! If it is, it's still optimistic, and that's commendable. Maybe it's happy because it was voted Most Likely To Be Pickled in the vegetable high school year book! (Cucumber was homeschooled)

Beet was so thin, and now Parsnip is so wide! It feels like their colors should have been swapped, maybe. But a Parsnip Muncher would delight in having so much more to munch here! A parsnip you could eat like an apple! I am not sure what Parsnip is thinking, with its very neutral expression. If I had a nickel for every time I couldn't tell what a parsnip was thinking, I'd be rich!

Tomato is my favorite! It's SO happy! The biggest smile around! So happy to be a tomato! Maybe it's thinking about how everyone loves tomatoes and how versatile they are! Maybe it's happy because THIS fruit is never buried underground- this and the following vegetable only appear from the Dream Machine during the final boss battle against Wart. I guess Wart doesn't like tomatoes. So not everyone does... but phooey to him, because he's a Bad Guy! We goody two shoeses love Tomato!

Finally, last but not least, is a quite interesting vegetable! This one is a bit mysterious, a bit ambiguous. Ambiguous whether it's an onion or a garlic. Ambiguous whether it's wearing thick glasses, or it has wide, pupilless eyes. I'm going to claim this vegetable as non-binary, and also establish "onion/garlic" as a binary. And then all humans will become non-binary...! What I can be sure of is that this allium looks like a nerd. "According to my calculations, my presence serves to enhance the flavor of any culinary delight!" Ok, dork! I love you.

So these have been Vegetables! I hope you liked them! And I also hope you like them in real life, That's Health! This post was funded and approved by the FDA. Can I say that? What are they going to do about it? Sue me? Kill me? Hopefully neither!

[exilethegame]

Hihi! This has been one of the BEST ifs I've ever read!!! Although i do have a question can we expect any updates soon? I'm totally fine with waiting this is just one of my absolute favorites! The writing, the RO's the characters everything😭

Hello! Thank you for the kind words :)

As for an update, all I'll say is-- I'm working on it! Re. the rewrite Chapters 1 + 2 are finished and 3 is about halfway done. I don't want to announce an actual "release date" because I haven't been able to work on things consistently w/ school. However, my thoughts are to just release Chapters 1-3 when they're done on the Twine demo for public release, and then update it again when Chapters 4 + 5 are done.

For a little peek of how things have changed, there's the mythosi sub-variants being added for MC, and then some scenes have completely different branches than before. For example, Jaime's encounter in Chapter 1 has 3-4 completely different endings now, which I think is pretty fun! And the Jost/Nikke battle has been completely overhauled to be a lot more dynamic/convoluted... (and of course there are now some Jost flirt options <3)

But I'm glad you enjoy the game so much! I can't overstate how thankful I am for those of you who have been willing to wait for so long. I know things are slow moving but we'll get there! Eventually!

[xesiarah]

“˚₊‧ UNLUCKY ENCOUNTER ‧₊˚ ”

Yan!Loser oc x Reader

Synopsis — some call it a coincidence, some say it's fate, but I say it's absolute utter fucking, bullshit.

—

—

"I'm sorry."

The other line hangs up, the irrational telephone beep ringing against your ear as you genuinely start feeling the symptoms of hysteria bubbling up your chest and clamming up your breathing. At this point you definitely wouldn't say no to a fucking lobotomy.

This week has been feeling like the universe is actively trying to kill you off, like as if already getting coffee spilled on you wasn't bad enough; You, in this modern age and time having to use the telephone because your phone was snatched, along with your favorite handbag, containing the newly expensive perfume you brought still half full, and then just now your partner of 2 years breaks up with you after you asked them for help because you tripped on a rock, resulting on a sprained ankle and having to distressingly limp all the way to the phone booth.

Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Just before this hell week was 3 days after your best friend ditched you for her new boyfriend, 4 days after you fucked up an important exam, and A WEEK after you befriended that jackass freak at school. Losing a few people here and there was to be expected but, c'mon! Isn't this just a new form of torture? You're sure that he was the one that caused all this, who else is to blame!? Maybe the rumor that said he must have all that hair to hide the dent he got when he was dropped as a baby was true, I mean. He probably performed some dark sorcery on you for whatever reason.. or maybe he's a sick masochist that fucks over people who don't treat him like an accused witch during the Salem Witch Trials. — Seriously, it was as if the universe's will to make that mfs life a living hell has rubbed off on you. But you know what, yeah.. It's fine, you can live with this.

Or not. Your alarm blaring for you to awaken gladly disturbs your nightmarish slumber, this is the 3rd time. The THIRD TIME! You've dreamt about him. — of that freak that brought you to your misery, who knows, what if dreaming about him more then once was some sort of bad omen? The 3rd time being on the first day of the week nonetheless. Of course the birds are extra chirper, you thought that maybe they're basking on your torment, if they were, you hope stray bullets manages to shoot all of them dead because we aren't having that kind of bullshit today. — You have finally devised a plan to avoid Satan's reincarnate for the rest of the school year as if they were carrying a covid variant. Finally getting that horrendous goblin off your back would feel like it's the second coming of Christ, and you're not about to let any twinks get in the way of living your life free from any agony inducing minger either.

You manage to find the will to exist. Entering the gates of your school muttering prayers to God, and whatever other deity that’s listening, to please not let you set sights of his probably-smells-like-cheese, greasy ass hair, the overgrown bangs covering ⅔ of his hazel eyes that always seemed to bother you, he even has those weird Incel glasses on.. maybe that one rumor that said he had some sort of eye fungus just makes this all more oddly debatable. You wander through the empty hallways, not seeing a single student kinda unsettles you. — makes sense though, It's pretty early, and you've never seen him around this time so, the coast is clear, for now, or so you thought. — You were approaching the rows of vending machines all pushed up against the back of the building when you caught a glimpse of a silhouette you're all too familiar with, he seems to be sketching something, not that you totally cared for whatever it was. You shrug, but when you were about to turn to leave he gets up and walks towards the boys bathroom, leaving his precious notebook unattended, out in the open, where anyone could take a peak... Just a little peak, alright? You tiptoed, walking towards it in longer strides to minimize your footsteps, upon getting closer, you notice the front page already wide open, as if he purposely left it like that, — that should've been the first red flag. Because inspecting it a little further made your jaw slack, the thing he was sketching.. was you. "What the fuck, I look amazing." You mutter, it's a little creepy but you're flattered with the way he straight up beautified you, admiring it for a little longer then you should've had was a mistake though, because just when you took your eyes off of the notebook, you see him literally lurking and hiding behind the bathroom's entrance. He's wide-eyed, and a huge creepy grin plastered on his face. — Genuinely scaring the flattery out of you and making you bolt straight to the opposite direction on instinct, the way he looked at you literally triggered your flight or fight. The sound of your fast footsteps filled the hallways, your heart going pitter-patter, quite literally about to burst out your chest. Fuck. Just your luck. Guess this won't be an easy day to get through.

Morning lectures are finally over. Which means you can finally celebrate the fact that you pushed through and made it to lunchtime! It was still agonizing nonetheless, waiting around corners to let him pass kind of felt like you're stalking him, can't say that you didn't get any weird looks either. The worse part was definitely him searching and skimming through the halls, asking everyone for your whereabouts, half of them made themselves look busy so he wouldn't approach them, and the other half straight up ran the opposite direction as if he threatened to bite their toes or something. Weirdly enough, most of them ended up slipping on wet floor, which just further gives in to your suspicion of him practicing dark sorcery. Anyways, you're proud of the little progress you made, and that's all that matters for now.

—

—

Lucian sits alone, his table is tucked away in the very corners of the cafeteria, no one even daring to glance at his direction, he used to typically eat in the bathrooms but nobody wants him in their presence to the point that they all stand up and leave when he approaches a table. — there's just this weird air surrounding the dude that automatically repels people away, and no it's not body oder dammit! He just gets greasy fast, and probably for threatening to unalive a teacher but that isn't important! The love of his life is avoiding him! He chews on his fingernails as he ponders, possible reasons fill his head, and they aren't very good ones. — Did someone make you do this? Is there someone else...? That surely can't be. That's just cheating isn't it? You love him after all! He saw the glint in your eyes when you looked at the portrait he drew of you. He could even show you his shrine! Made just for you, containing such precious things you lost! — His excessive chewing of his fingernails grow desperate to the point of drawing blood, he grimaces at the sight of crimson streaks, wiping it on the sleeves of his hoodie. — it just can't be. Why would you do him wrongly like this? You smiled at him, you laughed with him instead of AT him, you sat together.. So why!? Are you gonna leave him like his mother did..? Was that all a joke to you..? He just couldn't accept this, you aren't that kind of person! You know what, he finally snaps. he just has to hear an answer from you. — "He's right behind me, isn't he?" The person right Infront of you nods, and immediately scurries away. At this point you're frozen in place, what the fuck do you do? Just make a run for it? "Can we please talk..?" He speaks behind you, his hand is on your shoulder. You swallow, the remaining bits of your conscience crumbling as you fucking make a run for it, aggressive footsteps follow behind and you realize HE'S CHASING AFTER YOU. You have never let out such a gut wrenching scream than what you just did in this exact moment. — You hide behind a wall, thinking you've lost him. Not until a hand grabs onto your arm.

—

—

He caught you. He has you pinned against the wall, not in a shoujo cutsy romantic way, he looks as if he's a starved vampire about to chomp on your neck, and not in a good way. Just no fucking way this scrawny mf outran you. Another 'unfortunately' for you too, the Gods did not answer your prayers. You're trapped in between the arms of the man you swore to avoid like the plague for the rest of the school year, this was definitely not on your 2024 bingo list. You didn't even last till' the end of the day and that lowkey hurts your pride. — But holy smokes, they say that you experience something new everyday, and this is the first time you've seen him up close, messy bedroom hair, teary eyes that looked like he hasn't slept since the first star wars movie came out. Wowza. If he actually made an effort, or if he didn't have such unsettling vibes, you can't lie, he'd be a revelation hottie. — ... Shit. Not the time to be thinking about his potential glow up. — Poor guy, watching him trying to maintain eye contact but just failing horribly is kinda cute.

......

......

......

The fuck? Your face scrunches up just after you snap back out of, whatever that was. Seriously.. say WHAT now? That was a demon possession right there, you need to stop acting as if his existence didn't just cause your downfall unprovoked. "You're avoiding me.." His voice disrupts the silent war you were having with yourself. It sounded meek, he genuinely looked like a shivering wet dog, with those.. tears boiling up his eyes, and.. quivering lips. Fuck. What if you'd just slide down his arms and escape? Hell no, if someone walked in they'd think you were giving him a blowjob and that's honestly worse then whatever's going on right now. "A-Answer me!" He yells(?) hesitantly, the dude genuinely looks like he's about to burst into tears any minute, you're surprised how he somehow grew the balls to yell at you though. "Okay, dude I'm sorry..?" — It's sad how he goes ballistic over a 'friendship' that lasted a week, but he did show you the list of student names he wanted to glock, and you listened to some of his nerdy ramblings, so you guess he did cherish your short time together even if you gave him absolutely zero fucks. — he goes completely quiet for a minute before he finally bursts out crying, fat tears are running through his acne filled face as he drops to the ground. "I really just wanted a someone-" He says in-between hiccups, he's crying as if you killed his mom or something. You decided to just wait it out until he grew tired but his wails started growing louder till' you were forced to crouch down and comfort him. "H-hey, uhm.." Fuck. Screw it. You know what, Who cares if your life starts crashing down, it already was unsalvageable from the very beginning anyway. Everyone needs a friend and you're too nice for this. You finally give in, breathing in a sigh of defeat. "How can I fix this?" His cries shimmer down and you swear to fucking God you think you just saw him flash a smirk. This bitch looks like he's bout to spit out the most outta pocket bullshit. — and he indeed did not disappoint. The two unexpected words coming out of his mouth just further inspires you to jump off a bridge. "d-date.. me."

......

......

......

Maybe hiring a hitman on yourself wouldn't be so bad.

[ellestrade]

What do you think makes a good Damian Wayne fanfic ? Like what are your standards and red flags when you're reading one

Usually, I would first look at the 'Damian Wayne-centric' tags on ao3 and go from there. I don't think I hold any fics up to a certain standard, though being able to read any is important to me— that means proper paragraphing, grammar, etc.

I know that most, if not all writers on ao3 are amateur writers, novice at best and, if I'm lucky, have been writing since the dawn of Wattpad, so it's not fair for me to expect top-tier writing/characterisation. Everyone always has some kind of trope to fall back into, myself included. It's just a matter if said trope is annoying or not to consume.

"Good Damian Wayne fanfics" are, itself, subjective— because good fanfics, for me, means that there are no attempts at butchering his character, along with his loved ones, and that includes Talia, Ra's, Maya and Mara, etc. If I open a fic and it's all just a grandiose of people putting down Talia (making her a bad/abusive mother) just to have Bruce hugs his son, then I'm closing the tab.

That being said, here are my red flags/pet peeves when it comes to reading a fanfic:

Any, and I mean any variant consisting of bashing the al-Ghuls.

"Talia al-Ghul is a bad mother"

"Talia al-Ghul is a rapist"

"Ra's al-Ghul is a creep"

"Damian is a bad sibling"

Usually, any fics that consist of these types of fics often came out as xenophobic or straight up racist— taking Grant Morrison's run (primarily Talia's character assassination) as gospel, or never reading canon material as a whole.

Of course, credits where it's due, there are some, and I mean a very small some, fics that don't transpire that image— using the tag that to simply convey Damian's time in the League, or phrasing it in a way that Talia/Ra's were an abuser once victim. However, making them bad in comparison is just a no-go for me.

Also, making Talia a rapist is a one way ticket for me to block you— because not only that it is wrong, but it also shows that you don't care enough to do thorough research and just take it as it is; Talia, pre-Morrison, was depicted as this kind and loving woman. She was studying medicine when she met Bruce. They genuinely have Chemistry together. She was also a victim of abuse herself, and she would rather die than inflict harm upon others on purpose. She loves her son, she loves her husband, she loves her family and she also loves herself.

Also, the al-Ghuls are also some of the most affectionate family there are— at least, of course, prior to the whole character assassination for the sake of making Bruce seem like the better parent in comparison. They aren't afraid to show genuine affection to one another, becoming physical and shows their devotion beyond what words could measure— which, is , unfortunate, since they're presented in Western media, and God knows how bad someone would interpret a relationship if 'I love you's aren't being exchanged regularly like therapy talks.

Dare I say, they might actually be better than the BatFam 🤷🤷 but then I might get hunted down for sports so I'll keep that opinion to myself, for now.

I'm also going to redirect you to this one lovely account, @rasalghul777 and read their take(s) on Brutalia. Here's a starting post and this one if you'd like to start. This person makes wonderful posts regarding Brutalia and the al-Ghuls as a whole than what I could ever conspire and I applaud them for it.

White savior complex

"Damian got his love for animals from [insert any BatFamily members here]"

"Damian learned to love through being with BatFam"

Again, this could also be read along with my first point, but can also be seen separately— I genuinely cannot stand when Damian was written in a way that he was a 'feral, stabby boi' prior his transgression into the BatFamily since it conveys distasteful perception of the Arabic people as a whole; them being uncultured or even uncivilized.

It's gross, I hate it, get it away from me.

Also, Damian inheriting his love for animals from anyone else other than the al-Ghuls is just pure fanon bullshit— because that means you have no perception of what the League of Assassins really are and just takes everything the fandom writes at face value; the League (including Talia and Ra's) aren't some 2-dimensional villains who kills. Reducing a villain to a mere trope just to prop up your white boy isn't going to make me like them. It just takes away the fun of it.

People just love to forget the 'eco' in 'eco-terrorist', which Ra's is.

If anything, Damian would inherit his genuine and deep love for animals and nature from him.

It's worth mentioning that the League of Assassins doesn't kill people just for the sake of violence— there's a reason why they're being categorized as eco-terrorists, and not the other category people love to associate Arabs with; they kill with reason. Similar to Poison Ivy, they specifically target any organisation that brings ruins to Earth and nature as a whole.

On another note, writing Damian as 'uncivilized' or 'feral' is just plain wrong. While it certainly can be cute, in a sort of gremlin-esque, little brother way (Lord knows how much I love my little brother, but simultaneously wanted to (subliminally) throw a chair at him) but depicting him as this one child that goes around stabbing everyone unprompted rubs me the wrong way.

This goes along with my first note, but Damian was raised as a prince when he was in the League; there were some instances where soldiers who came to pick him up refer to him as "Young prince". He has manners. He knows what to say and what to do when being confronted by the media. If anything, Damian would adapt 'Gotham's Darling Boy' facade faster than BatFam girlies mischaracterise the next POC character.

Damian does love his mother and grandfather and his family back in the League very, very much. Just because he doesn't convey it in a conventional, traditional way, doesn't mean he doesn't know how. He has his own ways of saying 'I love you's of his own.

People that clearly consume more fanon media in comparison to canon.

Tim Drake stans. Like, as a whole.

Let me begin by saying I actually do not care on how you plan to enjoy your nice little character trope, but believe me when I say that there are some weights to what's famously transpired in the fandom spaces.

It's the "fandom affects canon space" phenomenon all over again.

It should go without saying that what goes in the fandom stays in the fandom, and vice versa. Like I said before, people tend to fall back to their favourite trope— writing characters in a certain way, conveying certain messages, etc. However, in the midst of your 'creative freedom', it's easy to forget that these characters are not yours.

Fandom is derived from the canon substance, that's why it's so flexible and allows creative freedom in the first place. The consumer can decide what's canon in the fandom space (rejecting what's real), though it's important to remember that canon is still the blueprint and shouldn't be thoroughly ignored in favour of your dumb little incorrect quotes. Rejecting everything just means that you're creating an Oc, which, atp is what you should be doing instead of DTI a canon character.

It's why we got gems like these:

(I have reached tumblr maximum capacity for images, but know that there's more)

Again, do what you want, I don't care! But remember that when you're depicting certain character dynamics like these, it also affects other potential fans' views and first impressions of said character.

I don't want to go off tangent longer than necessary— but I actively avoid any variants of, "Hurt Tim Drake" tags on ao3. Mostly because mischaracterisation awaits me. The rest are because his fans are genuinely obnoxious and (more often than not) have little to no comprehension to actual canon substance.

I think that's all that I could muster up. Sorry this post is long, lol, but I got carried away.

[soulfullives]

marauders era unpopular opinions, once more

i really don’t like fanon regulus. i don’t like him being helpless and kind and a sirius variant. he’s morally grey, leaning towards morally dark, he’s selfish, he agreed to his parents’ and voldemort’s ideologies, having joined the death eaters most likely by his own will (unlike draco malfoy). but obviously, everyone is allowed to characterise characters the very way they want to

and while we’re on it, i don’t like evan and barty either, for the same reason. maybe i would, if they were realistically characterised (i LOVE reading morally grey or morally dark(er) characters), and once again, i believe that just because one likes a character, that doesn’t always mean that the character is a good person

and continuing on the same topic, the sunshine james potter, although being a topic that i like and delved deeper into myself, is nice, but i would also love to see more of arrogant, spoiled james potter, too

not liking severus snape and peter pettigrew but liking evan, barty and regulus is kind of hypocritical

i don’t like jegulus

i also don’t like the casanova, bad boy characterisation of remus, and the helpless, needy characterisation of sirius either. to me, they’re out of character, overly done and absolutely not enjoyable

and because i earlier mentioned severus snape, i think he’s an interesting character, actually. that doesn’t make him a good person (once again, i believe him to be morally grey, too) and i can’t call myself a lover of his, however i find his story and character very interesting and compelling

i don’t like a lot of the wolfstar dynamics in current fandom

“we need more content about the girls!” literally do it yourself. please. whenever i write content about the men, i get a wave of new followers, and whenever i post about the non-men, suddenly i have tebs of people unfollowing me. oh, and my posts about the men have twice or thrice the notes of the other ones

sirius > regulus

and speaking of which, sirius is such an interesting character, and he was reduced by many people to nothing, or whatever is relevant to the plot

james would pick sirius over regulus any time, with literally no hesitation

i don’t care about popular fics (read or don’t read, i generally don’t read popular fics to be honest), however i do care about the way creators, especially writers, are treated in this fandom. i made a few posts about this topic, feel free to ask me to link them to you, but the way some people feel entitled to fic and fandom content is horrible

“x is the female version of— !” please stop. i’m going to stop you right here.

stop tagging jegulus and wolfstar and other mlm ships with wlw and nmlnm tags, for god’s sake. you’re just clogging the tag, and if i came looking for a certain ship, that’s what i’m going to expect to find. besides, why would you tag jegulus with, say, pandalily, when jegulus is by far more popular?

jegulus < jily

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you��ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[simmila]

Curiosities Part 2 - Public (x)

Hello hi! I'm here again with a new buy set for the "Curiosities" series. Today I bring you the Paleontology pack, because, as a dinosaur enthusiast myself, i wish there were more Dinosaur items that are not specifically made for children. There are not small pieces that can harm your Kids tho, so this pack is safe for the younger generations too!

Even though this doesn't contain as much clutter as i was planning at first, I wanted to release this as some kind of "home friendly" pack. So you can expect a more Museum-type Objects for the next release. ---

THIS PACK INCLUDES A TOTAL OF 15 OBJECTS:

(all new meshes and original textures unless stated otherwise)

-* Desk Chair -- (20 swatches)

-* Trunk Desk -- (24 Swatches)

-* Pipe Shelves -- (18 Swatches)

-* Platform Computer -- (31 Swatches)

-* Mousepad -- (53 Swatches -// 9 textures from EA, rest are my own)

-* Ankylosaurus Plant Pot -- (12 Swatches)

-* Book Pages & Posters -- (10 swatches)

-* Framed Fossil Replica -- (11 Swatches)

-* Framed Dinotopia Posters -- (12 Swatches -// Illustrations by James Gurney, i just edited text to simlish)

-* 3 Variants of Claws Replica (5 Swatches Each)

-* Tyrannosaurus Bust -- (8 Swatches)

-* Triceratops Bust -- (7 Swatches)

-* Brachiosaurus Lamp Bust -- (8 Swatches)

---

Hope you enjoy!

With love,

Simmila. xx :)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello hello! I just read your writings about Pokémon and it inspired me to make a request if that's okay!

May I request some fic with Raihan and Reader who has a team of, like, really intimidating Pokémon? But they are actually are big softies? Just a happy lil' Scolipede with a little bow munching some berries! Or even Slither Wing that crawls towards the toys like a kitten, pheh-

That's okay if you decline! Take your time, I can wait ^^

Have a good day/night!

-✒️ Anon

"C'mon, Rai! I have some friends from Paldea who are dying to meet you!"

"Oh are they, huh?" Raihan raised an eyebrow, exchanging a brief glance with his Duraludon. But they both did their best to keep up with you as you rushed to your campsite, excited.

For the first time since he's met you, he was finally going to see your main Pokémon team. You briefly mentioned having some from Paldea, but a few were from this region, as well as Kalos. Based on your history of winning lots of tournaments, Raihan could only assume you had a lot of very strong Pokémon with diverse typing to help you adapt to any situation.

You haven't battled anybody in Galar yet, so he wasn't sure what to expect. He was looking forward to today.

Upon arriving to the camp, however, he's....quite surprised.

All of your Pokémon were ones notorious for being highly aggressive and intimidating, but he quickly realized how tranquil and pacifist each of them seemed. They weren't sparring nor scowling at one another.

If anything, they acted sort of...cute?

He spotted a large Scolipede, the archnemesis of all Centiskortches...happily snacking on berries with a tiny Sizzlipede resting on their back, sharing the bowl. And amusingly enough, Raihan could see you adorned the vicious poison/bug's horn with a cute little bow, which it didn't seem to mind at all.

Then he saw a Volcarona...except it looked a lot fluffier and was crawling on all fours, its wings folded upwards like some sail. Not to mention it looked gigantic, as though it belonged to the same ancient time period as Tyrantrum and all the other fossil Pokémon.

"Is that some kind of Paldean variant?" The dragon tamer pointed to the Volcarona lookalike.

"Oh! Well..yes and no. That's my darling Slither Wing, a supposed ancestor of Volcaronas. They look scary, but they're sweet on the inside. Just watch this." Smiling, you took out the feather toy and shook it around, the tiny jingling bells making Slither Wing turn their attention to you.

With a happy chitter, they scampered over to you, before standing up on their hindlegs and towering over both you and Raihan. He jumped back with a small shriek, throwing his hands up in front of him.

"Woah what the-?!! Back up, buddy!!"

Sensing its trainer's distress, Duraludon hissed at the potential challenger.

Yet Slither Wing seemed blissfully unaware of the threat they posed, their focus being fully on the feather dangling in front of them. They gently batted it with their front paws, delighted at the jingling noise the bells made.

"Sorry." You laughed a little, feeding them a berry before setting the toy down. "They get excited easily." Then you rested a hand on their fluffy chest, to which they flopped to the ground, allowing you to rub their belly. "Awwh, who's a good Slither Wing? It's you~!"

Raihan blinked several times, awkwardly putting his hands back down as he stared at you, watching you baby this fierce-looking Volcarona. He would've thought you were talking to a Yamper or Growlithe.

Looking elsewhere, he saw a Pokémon who appeared similar to a Bisharp, except it was bulkier, resembled a samurai, and was....somehow sitting on its own hair???

Upon closer examination he could see it had some flowers in said hair, put there by the cutesy wild fairy and grass Pokémon that have gathered around it. It seemed to be telling them a story, smiling all the while...which was very unlike the serious Bisharp lineage.

You noticed where Raihan was looking and smiled, whistling for Kingambit. It glanced over and headed to you, being able to move without standing up at all.

"King?"

"Your majesty." You stood and bowed to it in respect, before turning to your friend. "Rai, this is Bisharp's final evolution, Kingambit He had to best three other Bisharps wearing leader's crests in order to evolve, so he's pretty strong."

"It took beating three?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty specific. How didja figure that one out?"

"....well how did you figure out how to evolve a Galarian Yamask into Runerigus?"

"...touché." He clicked his tongue, before glancing at Kingambit again, who seemed to be admiring the flowers in its hair. Then he slowly took out his rotomphone to snap a picture of it--

"Gamb.."

Tensing, Raihan saw the dark/steel type glaring daggers into his soul, and he gulped, nervously put his phone back into his pocket. "M-My bad..uh...I just...."

However, Kingambit's menacing look suddenly vanished, replaced with a cheeky smile as it chuckled. And only then did the dragon tamer realize the fairy and grass Pokémon were gathered nearby, giggling as well.

"Awh, did King scare the "almighty Dragon Tamer"?" You teased, seeing how flustered he was getting.

"What? Of course not! What are you talking about?" He quickly shook his head, offering you a sharp-toothed grin of reassurance. "I don't fear anything!"

"..Tyran!"

Raihan turned his head to see a Tyranitar stomping on over to you, wearing a mega bracelet similar to yours. He recalled you mentioning that you've mastered Mega Evolution.

But of all the Pokémon to choose from, it just had to be his ace's number one natural rival??? He'd hate to see how that would go down on a battlefield..

'Mega Tyranitar against G-Maxed Duraludon...sounds like a good movie title..' He mused, before snapping out of his thoughts and sighing, watching you coo over the dark/rock type--just like you did Slither Wing.

His concerned looks caught your attention, as you just huffed in growing annoyance, cradling Tyranitar's head in your arms. "Rai, relax. My friends here don't have a single mean bone in their bodies."

"I find that hard to believe. Plus my Duraludon hates Tyranitars...isn't that right......?"

However, he trailed off upon realizing that his trusty Duraludon was no longer by his side, instead hobbling over to greet your Tyranitar. "Du....Duraludon?" He blinked stupidly.

"Tar!!"

"Ludon!!!"

Raihan could only gawk as the two gently butted heads, amazed that they weren't at each other's throats. Instead, Tyranitar encouraged it to come play with the bouncy ball near the curry pot, and the steel/dragon followed them without hesitation.

Soon enough, Scolipede, Slither Wing, and Kingambit went to join the fun, leaving the dragon tamer utterly speechless as he realized his initial assumptions about your team were wrong. "Wow...."

"Yeah." Laughing softly, you patted his back as he stood there, shoulders still slumped. "So do you believe me now?"

"...I do. I'll never doubt you again."