#just had a run in with that sort of person online
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I have a... personal difficulty towards the reactions of lay-persons/people-with-surface-knowledge-about-arthuriana towards arthurian lore.
Its like... whenever someone complains that "Lancelot shouldn't betrayed his best friend Arthur!" "He should have stayed away from Guinevere!" "He's evil for ruining a healthy marriage"
And I have to refrain from trying to lecture that someone about the realities and nuances of Arthuriana and to defend Lancelot's character and his nature as a character. Especially when the pop-image of King Arthur as a "Did Nothing Wrong" guy rears its head.
I'm like, Dude
Lancelot and Arthur aren't even best friends, like you assume.
Arthur and Guinevere are not a happy couple with a modern-style marriage.
And Lancelot, as a character, fundamentally cannot be NOT Guinevere's lover. He exists for that very purpose for a (doylist) reason.
There is no simple answer for Arthuriana and its long and evolving history. There are complex and often independent explanations, both watsonian and doylist, for why things are in the world of Camelot.
#just had a run in with that sort of person online#as someone with enthusiasm for this genre#its both frustrating and awkward#arthuriana#sir lancelot#king arthur#queen guinevere#my thoughts#oc
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#im such a private person irl and for what like what purpose does this serve#all it does is distance me from people and keep me from making deep deep connections i know that very well#its just the act of opening up and being vulnerable especially when people aren’t groveling for me to open up is so unimaginable and#horrible#why do i do this like why i rlly dont want to share anything abt myself i just wanna know everything abt everyone while not sharing#anything abt myself#and then at the same time i am feel deeply disconnected and not understood and not known by anyone in my life except my mom#which im grateful for at least i have her but why cant i be that same way with friends i have literally had for 20+ years#i know i have to open up unprompted like without someone begging me to do so or its just gonna get worse and worse#but at the same time if there is this friend and shes curious idk theres just a million different things running through my head and im#just not ever a 100% honest or genuine with them#i guess in a way i also want to be seen in a certain light and as a certain someone and i do try to preserve an image of sorts even though#thats ridiculous to do with your fucking friends idk i guess im pretentious as shit?#i dont even know anymore#more than anything its like often when i share sth that was hard for me to open up abt i feel like ppl dont treat that with care or at#least havent in the past#and i rlly rlly hated that a lot and just i dont know#i told my mom some of the things my friends have said to me which has upset me and she was it sounds like they dont know you at all#and then she said but can i tell you that this is your own fault#and im like. i know. whag are they supposed to do#idk why am i like this what purpose does this serve omg id love to spend a day as an oversharer irl just to get a glimpse of what its like#i know this sounds odd bcs me online is just pure word vomit but thats probably also overcompensation cause i dont share these things with#my friends aka the ppl who i should actually be talking to#anyways
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Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.
(Steve would do the same for her).
Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.
64 and going down. Not a good sign.
Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”
Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.
“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”
His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.
“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”
Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.
“This tastes like shit, by the way.”
“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”
The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.
Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.
57 after he pricked. Thank god.
It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.
He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.
“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.
“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”
Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.
Chrissy would love her.
He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.
“How’s my blizzard?”
He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.
The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”
Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.
“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”
“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#diabetic steve harrington#Eddie Munson is Hispanic in my head#meet cute#kind of meet ugly tho#depends how you look at it#robin buckley#I need more fics where steve has diabetes#type 1 diabetes#strawb writes
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Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality
Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.
I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.
Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,
We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.
I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.
Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)
That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.
Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.
But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.
And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.
I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)
But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.
Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).
Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.
(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)
At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.
“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.
Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.
Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.
But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.
Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)
Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.
Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”
____
In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.
Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.
Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.
And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.
And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.
#good omens#good omens 2#ineffable husbands#it's kinda like capt america: civil war#with Azi as Tony Stark: traumatized and trying to do the right thing#and Crowley being Steve Rogers: fuck the establishment let's go rogue#gos2spoilers#good omens meta#good omens 2 meta#go s2#michael sheen#go s2 meta#go meta#*mine#*mymeta#ineffables husbands#ineffable soulmates#*mybest
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Baby Bunny
pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader
summary: leon helps his sweet baby bunny through her heat.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, breeding kink, daddy kink
word count: 3.8k
a/n: i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but let's go with it. again, thank you everyone for reblogging and commenting, it means the world to me <3
tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld
In his personal life, Leon never wanted to be depended on. That was his job. He didn’t want that stuff following him home. He didn’t want to be tied down, to be responsible for someone like that. People depended on him in Raccoon city and look how that turned out. Every mission he’s been on for the last few years, he’s responsible for someone. It’s exhausting.
But as he nears 30, he starts to look at it differently. An aching sense of isolation grows in his heart. He starts to think about what it would be like having someone, having a companion of some sort. Suddenly, he’s not looking at being relied on as a detriment. Being depended on means having someone to care for, someone to love. There would be someone at the end of long days and the starts of his currently lonesome nights.
That’s how he finds himself with you scampering around his house. The sweetest little thing he’d ever seen. Your long floppy ears, cute little cottontail, those big sweet eyes. From the moment he saw you, he was a sucker for all of it.
A while back he had briefly heard of human-animal hybrids, but he didn’t think much about it. It didn’t really apply to him. If anything, the idea weirded him out a bit.
That was until he started thinking more about his dilemma. It seemed like one of them might be a good solution. He talked to a few people and did some online research and decided to at least look into it. It couldn’t hurt to visit an adoption center right?
He visited the place and was still a little freaked by the whole concept. He walked through the rooms, watching different hybrids move about and mess around. The lady guiding him throughout asked him different questions, trying to decipher what type of hybrid would best fit his needs. But all of her questions were irrelevant as soon as he spotted you.
You were undoubtedly the one. His baby bunny. Not only did he not want any other hybrid, but he didn’t think he could physically leave that place without talking to you at the very least.
He walked over to you cautiously. You kept to yourself, and he could tell from your body language alone how timid you were. He spoke with the softest, most soothing tone he could manage, but you were still so shy.
You’d told him your name so quietly he could barely hear. He didn’t touch you at all, fearing you may cry at something that personal. But he kept talking to you because while others may have found it challenging, he could see you fitting right in with him.
You’d be dependent, sure, but clearly you wouldn’t be overly needy for affection. It would be a good way for him to transition from being alone into having someone.
He kept getting to know you and trying to get through some of your walls. He talked with you about all sorts of things and let you ask your own questions so you could get to know him. By the end of the day, you hesitantly allowed him to stroke your ears.
It was that exact day he told you that he was interested in you coming to live with him. You were still very reserved, but you seemed receptive. You did a little trial run over the course of a week, and just as Leon thought, you were a great fit.
You had grown more comfortable with him in the months since that week even though your core personality hadn’t changed. You were still generally quiet, never asking for much and being appreciative of whatever he gave you. You’d talk with him openly now, mostly responding to him rather than starting conversations but speaking nevertheless. You slept in your own room, but as soon as you woke up, you’d come find him to hang out. It was a nice balance with you.
But Leon still wanted a little more. He would never push it on you, knowing it would make you withdraw again, but he always cherished the moments of progress with you. You warmed up enough that you came around to enjoy cuddling. Leon couldn’t believe how soft he’d become when you curled up to his side and tucked yourself under his arm. The first time you fell asleep in his embrace, he loved it so much he felt chest pains. Once or twice, he’d gotten you to fully sit on his lap, and he couldn’t stop beaming.
He could give you little kisses on your face now, and you’d give him a sweet smile in return that he couldn’t get enough of. You’d never kissed him yourself, but you would nuzzle his cheek in return which was enough to make him happy.
You were just such a sweetheart, a perfect companion for him. You didn’t complain when he had to go to work, but it wasn’t like you didn’t miss him. He could see the way your ears would slump and your eyes would dim as he gathered his stuff and headed for the door. But you also got so happy when he came back. You tried to seem as subdued as possible, but the way you lit up again in his presence was obvious.
The only thing you were still completely closed off about was when you went into heat. Leon understood what it was, he had been nervous about it since bringing you home, but he had no clue about how you dealt with it at all. Every time it happened, you’d shut yourself up in your room for however many days it took, and then return to him as if nothing had happened.
For your sake, he played along. He got the sense it was a touchy subject after bringing up the possibility of getting you some more toys for it and having you immediately shut it down. Your voice had become higher pitched with defensiveness, and your eyes wouldn’t meet his for the next few hours.
He had only wanted to help, but he couldn’t tell you why. Couldn’t tell you that your desperate moans kept him up at night when they echoed down the hall. Those broken whimpers that made it sound like you were crying, so worked up and in need of release that it brought you to tears.
He also couldn’t share how it made his cock rise to attention. How those pretty little noises had him fucking his fist, other palm covering his mouth to muffle his grunts, searching for relief of his own. His precious baby bunny didn’t need to know all of that.
Today had been a long day. He was tired after dealing with all the bullshit that came with his job. Although, unlike in months prior, he wasn’t all doom and gloom driving home. The thought of his sweet girl at home waiting for him by the door kept his spirits somewhat up as he made the commute back.
To his surprise, you weren’t in the living room like normal. He walked through the room cautiously, a little on edge from the disruption to his routine. He goes into the kitchen and still doesn’t find you. He starts to walk to the back of the home and that’s when he hears something. Those soft, needy sounds of pleasure.
His eyebrows raise, but he continues walking. As he gets closer, he realizes something that adds another level of shock to this situation. The noises were coming from his room.
At this point, he was more concerned than anything else. He makes his way down the hallway to his room and slowly opens the door, cracking it open to peek inside.
His eyes widen as he sees you on his bed. You’re kneeling, doubled over though so your face is in the blankets, his pillow between your legs, and your hips rocking back and forth violently. You’re nude from the waist down, only wearing a shirt of his. One of your fists is clutching the blankets while you keep your face shoved against them in a weak attempt to muffle those cute noises.
His jaw goes slack at the sight. He wills himself to remain calm and not succumb to some of his own primal urges. He carefully steps into the room, trying to be quiet even though he couldn’t see a way to not startle you with his presence.
“Baby…” he says, using the most gentle voice he could manage.
You shoot up in bed, now kneeling vertically. Your eyes are wide like you’ve had the fright of your life, your expression clearly horrified that he’d caught you like this. And even though he tries not to look, he can’t help but notice that despite your reaction, your hips don’t stop rutting against the pillow.
“Daddy!” you gasp.
That short circuits his brain. He pauses for a good five seconds to grapple with what you just said. You’d never called him that before. Not that he minded necessarily… but it still gave him whiplash.
His reaction seems to cause you to realize what you had just blurted out. In the blink of an eye, you go from visibly horrified to completely mortified. Your eyes fill with tears as you whimper out “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
Oh god, and now you’re crying. Leon was still silent as he tried to keep his composure, force the heat building inside of him to cool off before he approached you. Looking at you though, that sweet face with tears leaking down those round cheeks… It made him want to bounce you on his lap till you were crying for a whole other reason.
“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he reassures you as he walks to the bed. He sits on the edge, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on your face. “Is it… Are you in heat?”
“Yes,” you say, tone dripping with shame. You bite your lip and try to restrain any further whimpers. Your hips were slowing down but still moving. After a few moments though, another wave of choked cries erupt from your throat and more hot tears of humiliation slide down your skin. Your hands fly up to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I-”
“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down. It’s ok,” he says softly. He cautiously takes your wrists and pulls them away from your face. He takes one of your hands in his, soothingly rubbing the back of your palm. You whimper at the touch, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s ok, honey. I’m not mad. You can’t help it. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”
You look into his eyes with your tearful gaze. Your breathing was a little ragged from crying, but it seemed like he was calming you down slowly. You nod with uncertainty, waiting for him to make the next move.
He was also unsure of what to do. This was so unlike you, he’d never seen you this emotional for one, but he’d also never expected to see you in this position. And the entire time your hips were still grinding on that pillow, back and forth like a pendulum.
“Is it more intense this time?” he asks, keeping his tone gentle to not upset you again.
“I guess,” you whimper, “I just… I wanted you.”
It pained him to see you so uncomfortable and stressed out. He wanted you to be able to come to him with these types of things, to trust him with yourself when you’re in your most vulnerable state. It was clear that you desired that too, to some degree. You were in his room, humping his pillow, wearing his shirt.
“Well… I’m right here, baby. I want to help if I can. If you want me to,” he says.
Your skepticism is written all over your face. But you needed this even if you were a little nervous. He pats his lap encouragingly, and that’s the final push you need to let go of the pillow and crawl into his lap.
“There’s my baby bunny. Sweet girl,” he says softly as he gets you situated. He peppers a few tender kisses on your head and strokes your back.
You had only been there for a few seconds, but your hips were already squirming.
“What do you need, baby? Just tell Daddy, and you can have it,” he whispers. The title rolls off his tongue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It had caught him off guard when you said it, but after it rattled around in his head for a bit, it took root. Now, he just wanted to hear you say it again.
You whimper, looking at him through your lashes with those sweet eyes. At this point, you were all but riding his thigh. There’s a pause as you decide how to articulate your desire.
“I need… I need you,” you offer timidly.
“I know that, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “Try to be more specific for me. Daddy only wants to know so he can help you. Give you exactly what you need.”
He reaches up and cradles the back of your head, bringing you in to rest it on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around you and rubs your back. He holds you as close as he can to give you that physical reassurance he knew you longed for in your condition.
You still hesitate, obviously working up your will to explicitly state your cravings.
“I want Daddy inside, wanna be bred,” you whimper, turning your face against his shoulder to hide your eyes. Your whole head felt hot with the weight of what you said. It was almost dizzying, but he swoops in with his cooing voice and gentle praises to keep you together.
“Poor baby,” he croons, “I don’t know how you handled this alone for so long, honey. That’s so unfair to you, all these big feelings you had to work through by yourself. So frustrating.”
You knew he was being excessively caring now, but you had no complaints. The loving cadence of his voice made your mind melt. All you could do is whimper and nod against his shoulder.
“You could’ve come to Daddy anytime you wanted. I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny, especially not about this,” he says, kissing your head and giving your ears a few loving strokes.
“I know. I’m sorry,” you say.
“Nothing to be sorry about, sweet girl. I’m here now. We’re gonna fix it. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he says.
He shifts you around a little so he can slide his pants down and free his hard cock. Your curious eyes dart back to his face after a quick look at the flushed tip and the veins spanning the shaft.
“You ready?” he asks softly.
“Mhm, need it,” you whimper in return, helping him get your hips into position.
He lowers you on to his cock. Both of you let out hushed noises of pleasure as the sensation strikes pleasure within you. His fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips as he slides further into you. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes already start to flutter at the snug fit.
You whine and babble out some nonsense when you’re finally flush against him. His cock twitches inside of you.
“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. You could hear the tension in his own voice from exerting so much restraint. “You feeling any better?”
“Little bit, need more Daddy,” you mewl.
“Just give yourself a second to adjust, angel,” he grunts. You were pulsing around him, making it harder for him to not let go.
But it seems you’re feeling the same way. You shake your head in response to his words and start haphazardly squirming around, trying to move up and down while still in his hold.
“Need it Daddy,” you whine, “Can’t wait. Pretty please.”
Like he’d said, he couldn’t say no.
“If you’re sure, honey,” he says and loosens his grip, “Be a good bunny and bounce for Daddy.”
That’s all you need to hear before you’re bouncing up and down. Wet noises fill the room as your slick pussy takes him in and out. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the embarrassment fade and just feeling the pleasure running through you.
Leon focuses on helping you keep your balance as you ride him. His own belly was twisting with ecstasy as your heat engulfs him over and over.
“That’s it, good baby,” he grunts, “Keep going, honey. Get it all out.”
You whine and continue on, up and down, up and down. More cute noises spill from your mouth as the head of his cock nudges all the right places. You ramble on, mumbling things like “love my daddy” over and over.
“Daddy loves you too, sweet girl,” he says softly.
He notices you starting to cling and whimper more. You were still riding, but your rhythm was becoming more awkward. You seemed more desperate even though you literally had him as close and as deep as physically possible.
He tries to help and do more of the work. He pulls you in close again and holds you against his body. Your face is pressed to his neck while he rubs the back of your head. His hips start to do the majority of the thrusting, bucking up into you fervently.
More incoherent strings of words escape you as you melt into his chest. You press a few sloppy kisses to the base of his neck. Despite him taking over, you were still being whiny and squirmy. He knew you were in discomfort, but it should be getting better, right?
“What is it, babydoll? What else do you need?” he coos.
Your head falls back and a sound of general pent up frustration escapes you. Your hips roll into his thrusts in large, needy movements.
“It’s not enough,” you cry, almost near tears from the ache between your thighs, “Need you more. Closer. Need it.”
You tug at his arms trying to get him to wrap them tighter. There wasn’t much Leon could do though. You were already as close as possible, any closer and you wouldn’t be able to move, which he was sure wouldn’t go over well with you. He felt so bad for you though. His sweet baby bunny suffering like this.
He watches you, your weak attempts at getting yourself off by rising and falling on his lap. He can’t take watching you struggle like this. Doing the only thing that could think of, he boosts you up and quickly flips you over.
You’re now pinned beneath him. His toned body is all over yours, heated skin pressed to you in every way. He spreads your arms out and holds your wrists down. His hips are against yours. He’s just grinding into you now, not even pulling out with his thrusts. He was as deep as possible. If this wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what else to do.
“How’s that, pretty girl? Is that how my baby bunny wants it? Wants Daddy nice and deep, ready to spill his cum and breed her cute pussy,” he breathes.
You nod eagerly, eyes rolling back at the relief you felt. This is what you needed. Feeling his weight on top of you, unable to move anywhere else.
“Mhm, this is what you need, sweet baby. You’re gonna take every last drop. Gonna keep it all in to make sure it takes too. If any leaks out, that just means I’ll have to fuck it back in. We’ll just have to go as many times as we need to,” he groans.
“Yes Daddy. Wanna take it all. Gonna be full of your cum for days,” you whimper.
“Yeah you will be. I think that’s what I’ll do from now on. Whenever my baby bunny goes into heat, I’ll have to stay home, make sure to keep you in bed, keep you plugged up full of Daddy at all times. That pretty little head won’t have to think about anything but being bred,” he says.
You just nod again, unable to get proper words out at the minute.
“I feel you squeezing, sweetheart. You getting ready to cum for Daddy?” he coos and reaches up to stroke your ears. He hikes your thighs up more, giving him a deeper angle to drive into you with. You gasp from the change, and your noises get higher as he rams in as much as he can without it being painful.
“Daddy!” you cry out. It’s all you can say. You had more, but it could only come out in the form of that one word right now. He’s all that was on your mind. Daddy daddy daddy.
“Yes, baby. Yes. Daddy’s here. Gonna fill you full of cum and then love on you for the rest of the night,” he purrs, “My baby was so brave, dealing with this all by yourself. But doesn’t it feel so much better when Daddy takes care of you?”
“Mhm, mhm,” you agree quickly.
Your hips start bucking while your body spasms. Leon knew this was it.
“Good girl, baby. Cum whenever you want. Let it feel good baby, get perfect and tight,” he says.
You do just that. You let the release wash over you. You shudder and dig your fingers into his muscles as the feelings bubble over.
“My perfect little bunny,” he praises softly while watching you let go.
It’s not much longer until his cock his pulsing violently within you. He thrusts as hard and as deep as possible before letting out a loud groan and burying his face in your neck.
“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” he mumbles.
He spills it all inside you, hips twitching and arms locking around you. In the end, you’re both panting. He pulls back a little to kiss your forehead again. He looks down into your eyes.
“How’re you feeling now, sweet girl?” he asks softly.
“Better for now,” you answer. Your head starts to clear and return to its normal state.
He nods and kisses your head again. He rolls over onto his back, scooping you up against his chest while staying inside you. He rubs your back gently.
“You did so good, baby,” he whispers, “Now you see you don’t have to do that alone. You can trust me, sweetheart. I only want to help you. Keep you happy.”
You nod and look up at him lovingly.
“If this is what you need, this is what you need. We can get through it together,” he says softly.
“Together,” you agree softly and scoot up slightly, kissing him gently on the lips.
He smiles big and holds you closer somehow. He leans in for another kiss and another. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get enough.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#resident evil imagines#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy imagine#resident evil smut#smut#ch: leon kennedy 💌
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I only ask cause you usually seem to be pretty up to date on the goings on of this site, but what the HELL is going on with tumblr's CEO? Why are they having a meltdown responding to asks? What's the trans misogyny accusation about? Why is tumblr apparently being run by children?
Thanks in advance.
This is kind of a long story so this is sort of TLDR for brevity but there’s more going on here.
Some context if you weren’t aware; Tumblr has been accused multiple times by its userbase for fostering TERF staff members and covering for them when making transphobic moderation calls. Things like; an overeagerness to ban trans women for posting nudes despite not addressing nazis or bots for years, or protection of notable TERF users who flagrantly break TOS by organising hate campaigns. The users who collected evidence of this became huge targets for these “””alleged””” TERF mods and users and were basically hunted online for sport. Up until recently the “terf mods” take was considered a bit of a conspiracy theory by some who assumed it was more likely to be an automation problem mixed with transphobic reports.
This week: tumblr user predstrogen was recently permabanned (for a second time) following a mass reporting by TERFs. This, obviously, pissed a lot of people off, and a fairly routine “the fuck haven’t you banned the nazis yet??” ask was sent to photomatt, the CEO.
Photomatt, INSANELY, replied, misgendering her multiple times and defending his decision to personally smack down the ban hammer by citing predstrogens nudes, but by his own admission the far more heinous crime was this absolutely ridiculous post;
Matt has also contacted the FBI over this stupid shit despite predstrogen not living in the US.
Lastly, during this very public announcement on the kangaroo court hearing, matty drops this absolute nuclear bomb about Tumblr having some internal drama when they’d discovered an external contractor was A) a transphobe wielding mod authority to be transphobic B) criminally selling moderation (likely to TERFs).
Despite this obviously being on the record somewhere, this is clearly news to fucking everyone including myself.
It’s also worth noting that predstrogen has not been the only recent ban; several black people and black transfems have been instabanned after directly asking matt for accountability (the user i’ve seen specifically named was @rulerofpurple and his partner)
So, naturally, people are fucking furious they spent years getting gaslit by staff, who had been assuring us of their even-handedness, but surprise!!! Trans women WERE being uniquely targeted, and even worse, likely targeted by the people who they could never seem to deplatform despite constant death threats and doxxing!! And despite all this assurance that Tumblrs internals are now perfectly free of transmisogyny and racism, it’s pretty obvious to just about everyone that Tumblr staff are chomping at the bit to ban trans women.
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Bust | KTH | (m)
☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader
☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky.
☾ Word Count: 2,211
☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating.
☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024
☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg.
☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾
Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault.
It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.
At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution.
For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers.
Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.
Perhaps you’ll watch it now.
“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”
They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by.
Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute.
A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.
In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.
Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.
As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head.
The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.”
Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil.
When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly.
I was too scared. I can’t remember.
-
I was too scared. I can’t remember.
It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered.
If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery.
It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday.
Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.
You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.
Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.
Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then.
“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing.
Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this.
“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further.
“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition.
“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”
The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders.
“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”
“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”
“You watch too many heist movies.”
“Maybe I watch just enough.”
He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”
“Can I know your name?”
“For the right price.”
“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”
He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”
“You have to like me. I know your secret.”
Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”
-
“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”
A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.
You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.
Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth.
“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”
Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin.
All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.
“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”
The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.
He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.
It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.
“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”
It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.
And then you break.
Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation.
Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there.
“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.”
You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”
“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.”
#taehyung smut#kim taehyung smut#bts smut#taehyung fic#taehyung fanfic#bts fic#bts fanfic#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#v smut#bts v
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blind date (shigaraki x reader)
After endless failed attempts to help Tomura up his game, his friends have settled on their last resort: A blind date. Even before you show up, it's not going well. No quirks AU, 2k words.
this was originally in the x reader lovers community, but I figured I'd release it into the wild as well!
Part 1 Part 2
Part 1
Tomura gets being a little late. “A little late” is practically his middle name. He waits until the last minute to do almost everything, and that means any complications mean he’s running behind. Hypocrisy pisses him off so much that he tries to avoid it all costs, so that means he has to put up with it without bitching when somebody else is a little late, too.
Except half an hour isn’t a just a little late for anything, let alone a blind date Tomura didn’t want to go on in the first place. He’s been waiting outside the bar you were supposed to meet at for half an hour, and he’s pissed.
“That’s it,” he says after the eighteenth time a woman his age has walked past and hasn’t been you, whatever the hell you look like. “I’m out of here.”
“Just a little longer, honey,” Magne says. She’s smiling, but she’s also got her arm around Tomura’s shoulders, and if she squeezes any harder, Tomura’s going to pop like a balloon. “She’ll be here.”
“No, she won’t.” Tomura crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in so nothing will bite them. They’re on the waterfront, in the summer, and there are insects everywhere. Whose dumb idea was this? “You showed her a photo of me and she changed her mind.”
“It’s a blind date,” Magne says. Like Tomura’s supposed to know what that means. “She doesn’t know what you look like, either. That’s why you have to stay right here and keep wearing that baseball hat. Otherwise she won’t know it’s you.”
Tomura hates the hat. Right now he hates everything. “So she got here on time, saw me, and left. Can I go?”
Magne shakes her head. “You promised you’d try.”
“I showed up. I waited for fucking half an hour. I’ve tried.” Tomura finally shoves Magne’s arm off his shoulders. “I’m done.”
Tomura wishes he could say he didn’t know how he got here, except he does. One of his friends is getting married, and there’s supposed to be a wild bachelor weekend in Vegas, one last blast of stupid before settling down. Most of the groomsmen are planning to hook up with as many people as possible, and that’s where the problems start. According to his friends, Tomura has no game. Zero game. Negative one hundred game. If he was rolling for his game stat, it would be a critical failure – and none of his friends want to babysit him when they could be getting laid.
Tomura wouldn’t want to babysit when he could be getting laid, either. His solution was to skip the bachelor weekend and just show up for the wedding in his stupid rented suit. But apparently his friends really want him to come to the party, and they decided that what he needed was to get some practice in before the trip. Which means that for the last month, Tomura’s spent every Friday night and weekend getting dragged through his own personal hell.
They made him try dating apps, which were a disaster, even though Tomura let Toga set up his profile and make the first move. Then they tried traditional online dating, which also sucked, because Tomura’s too picky and other people have standards. Hanging out in bars and clubs worked exactly how it’s always worked – it doesn’t – and when Dabi pulled out the big guns and dragged Tomura to the sex club where he met his fiancé, the only people who talked to Tomura were guys. Tomura thought that was sort of a good sign, even though he’s not into men, until he remembered that guys will fuck anything with a hole in it. He’s not high on himself on his best day, but that was a really shitty night.
He thought they were going to quit after that, but his friends had one last ace up their sleeve – a blind date, Magne’s idea, which Toga enthusiastically signed off on when she saw a picture of the woman Magne wanted to set Tomura up with. Toga’s type and Tomura’s type line up, sort of, and Spinner giving the photo two thumbs way up sealed the deal.
It’s not like Tomura was hopeful or anything. He just wanted to get his friends off his back. Still, rejection sucks, and ghosting sucks worse. He’d rather have you show up and tell him to his face that you weren’t interested than stand him up.
Magne collars Tomura again, but her phone starts ringing at the same time, Toga’s contact info popping up. “Don’t go anywhere,” she warns Tomura as she raises the phone to her ear. “We’re here. She’s not here yet. Can you tell him –”
Tomura ducks out from under her arm and books it into the crowd of people on the waterfront, figuring he can make it to the metro stop before Magne figures out which way he’s going. But even that can’t go his way today, because he runs into somebody who’s moving at warp speed in the opposite direction, colliding at the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. Tomura’s not confrontational, but it’s the wrong fucking day. “Can you watch where you’re going? It’s not like you matter to whoever you’re going to –”
“Are you Tomura?”
Tomura’s heart lurches. He stares hard at you as you right yourself, picking up the backpack you dropped in the collision. There’s no way this is happening. There’s no universe in which his blind date would be someone like you.
He can see right away why Toga and Spinner approved of you, but he thought you’d be someone in his league, not somebody who’s several kilometers above it. Maybe Tomura’s too excited that you actually showed up to evaluate what you actually look like. He looks away, then looks back. Nope – you’re still pretty, even though your face is flushed and you’re breathing hard like you’ve just been running. Did you run here to meet him? Only one way to find out. “I’m Tomura.”
“I’m so sorry,” you say. “My boss held me back at work, and I missed my train –”
You’re wearing some kind of work uniform. Scrubs, maybe. Are you a nurse? “And then I couldn’t decide whether to wait for another train or just run, so I ran – but I don’t really run, so it took even longer –”
Tomura doesn’t run, either. When he was doing the stupid online dating thing, he sorted out everybody who said more than one sentence about working out. You pause to suck down a breath, then keep talking. “I know everything I just said sounds like an excuse, and I know you’re leaving,” you say, “but I was hoping I could catch you so I could say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand you up. I get it if you want to call it off.”
Before Tomura can answer or even think about what he’s going to say, Magne bursts out of the crowd. “I told you not to run off,” she scolds, collaring Tomura again. “If you don’t stay put, there’s no way she’s going to – oh! You’re here!”
You nod. Magne looks you up and down. “I told you to dress cute,” she scolds. “And to get here on time. I practically had to chain him to a streetlight so he wouldn’t escape.”
“I’m sorry,” you say. “My boss –”
“Of course,” Magne says, scowling. “He’s never met a good time he doesn’t want to ruin.”
Magne knows who your boss is? “How do you to know each other?”
“She’s a pharmacy tech at the place I go to pick up my E,” Magne says. “She’s the only one who works there who isn’t an asshole, and her boss is the biggest asshole of them all. I only go in there when she’s on and he’s off. But let me introduce you the right way. Shigaraki, this is – ”
Tomura misses your name the first time Magne says it, catches it the second time, but it barely registers except as something he probably shouldn’t forget. You’re pretty. You’re not an asshole, or at least you’re the same kind of asshole as Magne and everybody else Magne’s friends with, including Tomura. Your boss is the wrong kind of asshole, which means you probably didn’t blow Tomura off on purpose. And you ran here so you could meet him even when you knew you were really late. You must have really wanted to meet Tomura. What did Magne tell you about him?
Tomura can ask you about that later. “So?” Magne is saying expectantly. “Can I leave you two alone, or are you going to run away again?”
“No,” Tomura says. “You can go.”
You look surprised. “Um –”
“Now.”
Magne cackles. She snatches the hat off Tomura’s head, ruffles his hair, and slaps him on the back hard enough that he staggers. “Have fun! I want all the details later!”
“Sure,” you say, bewildered, as she kisses you on the cheek. Tomura’s going to have to talk to you about that – any details you share with Magne will be fair game for the rest of Tomura’s friends, and he’s not sure how much he wants them to know. “Um, bye.”
Magne waves and vanishes into the crowd. Now it’s just you and Tomura standing on the sidewalk. You shuffle off to one side, out of the way, and Tomura follows you. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” you ask once you’re both leaning against the railing. “I get it if you’re not in the mood. When I’ve gotten stood up, I haven’t wanted to –”
“You’ve never been stood up in your life,” Tomura says, and your expression changes from confused to offended. “Look at you.”
You look down at yourself, then back up at him. “What does that mean?”
“I didn’t know anything about you and I got here on time. If I knew what you looked like beforehand I’d have been two hours early.” It sounded like a compliment in Tomura’s head, but he can’t tell if you’re taking it that way. “People like you don’t get stood up for dates.”
“I wish that were true,” you say. You look away. “I know how it feels. I get it if you don’t want to go out anymore.”
Tomura pretends he’s thinking about it. “How far did you run to get here?”
“Sixteen blocks.”
“You ran sixteen blocks to meet me. That cancels out being late,” Tomura says. You look up, surprised for a second or two before the relief kicks in. “I still want to go out.”
“Me, too,” you say. You smile at him. Women don’t usually smile at Tomura. People don’t usually smile at Tomura. He doesn’t know what to do with it. “Thanks, Tomura. For giving me a chance.”
“Yeah,” Tomura says. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t really know,” you admit. “It’s been a while since I went on a date.”
“Same,” Tomura says. ‘Never’ counts as a while in his book. “I don’t know – grab drinks or something?”
You nod. “Can we find somewhere to sit down for a second first? I don’t usually run that much, and I don’t want to pass out on you.”
“You can pass out on me if you want,” Tomura says. You blink. Tomura facepalms even though you’re looking right at him. “There are benches back there.”
The crowd on the sidewalk is only getting denser. Tomura doesn’t want to get separated from you, so he tells you to hold onto the back of his shirt. You grab his hand instead, and you’re still holding it when the two of you find a place to sit down. Still holding it once you’re both settled, searching for something to talk about. Tomura’s not optimistic about this. You’re too good to be true – the kind of woman who’d run sixteen blocks to meet him and hold his hand is a kind of woman who doesn’t exist. Even so, it’s – nice. Tomura laces his fingers with yours and decides to enjoy it while it lasts.
#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x you#x reader#reader insert#man door hand hook car door#a bisquared production
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i just saw a post about how we just have to "live with" covid and wanting more protections from our government is unreasonable because we'll never wipe it out, it jumps species and is in all sorts of animal populations (like, true ok) so why even try to
and apparently the argument was aimed at people (who I haven't seen in the wild) who are arguing we should still be in lockdown. and i have mixed feelings about the idea of extended lockdown or attenuating isolations; but my main feeling at this point is not that the government should keep us apart but that the government should be trying to make it safer for us to be together
things the government could/should be doing about covid:
we know that ventilation/air movement helps a shitton. we should be incentivizing upgrades to ventilation systems in all public buildings with shit like rebates or tax deductions, while phasing in eventual legal requirements. (and uh. it has occurred to me that the US might actually be doing this sideways by there's currently this decade enormous tax incentives in re energy efficient upgrades for slowing climate change and you know. energy efficient hvac does tend to improve ventilation. extra point to biden here.)
mandatory paid sick leave so workers aren't under social or economic pressure to work when sick
passing out RT-LAMP tests like metrix that actually work instead of the rapid antigen tests that have become less and less reliable as the virus mutates
i don't know how you'd write this law but like 95% or more of computer-based work can be done remotely and companies should not be allowed to force people to return to the office. I know there's people who want to be back in person and I'm not saying they should be forced to stay home but ffs I know of at least two people CLOSE to me who worked remotely before the pandemic and at some point their workplaces tried to tell them they weren't allowed to do that anymore despite the pre-existing contracts. stop canceling remote work for people that want, need, or prefer it.
for that matter, every college lecture that was an online class during covid should still be offered as an online class, there is no reason to force students into auditoriums in person. you got the communications infrastructure up and running, why are you tearing it down. give people the OPTION. it increases accessibility for everyone!
covid vaccine immunity lasts about four months. this should be well-publicized and everyone should be able to re-up for free every four months. "every year, like the flu vaccine" is demonstrably not often enough. actually "for free" isn't good enough start handing out $10 gift cards you will be shocked at how many people who are resistant to the idea of vaccines will fold for $10 a shot
are there already laws on the books about masks in medical settings that some medical professionals are blatantly ignoring because they forgot what best practices were before the plague and they're 'tired of masking'? if not, pass laws. if so, fucking enforce them
oh another incentives for upgrades phasing into legal requirements thing: brass doorknobs and railings over stainless steel or whatever. microbes do not survive on brass surfaces
i mean. i know this one sounds too extreme to a lot of people but. UBI.
most if not all of these measures will prevent or ameliorate other pandemics of different diseases that may arise in the future. and just. generally improve our health and quality of life for other reasons.
I haven't felt safe to go to a concert since 2020. Maybe if I knew a venue was legally required to have ventilation to a certain standard and that none of the ticket takers and ushers were on the job sick to avoid risking loss of paycheck or job, and knew a larger percentage of the crowd had up to date vaccinations--maybe if any or all that, I might ever feel comfortable going to a show again.
wouldn't it be nice if those of us who have been disabled, by covid or other conditions, had accessible remote options but also occasionally felt safe enough to interact with and participate in wider society?
one of the arguments on the post I saw was how isolation was massively psychologically damaging and various strata of society were affected in all sorts of ways, from undersocialized kids to increased depression in--well across the board, I think. and here's the thing: WE KNOW. PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC HEALTH CONDITIONS, LONG COVID OR OTHERWISE, KNOW ISOLATION SUCKS REAL BAD. because we, both for our own health and due to disability ostracism, are still isolating and isolated more than most.
what are you as individuals or societies, what are our governments, doing to help make it safe and accessible to rejoin you????
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sunghoon.
= 𝓙𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 ── P.SH 💬
in which your long distance bf craves your contact...
pairing. ⌂ needy boyfriend sunghoon x f. reader ⌂ contains. mostly suggestive content but with tons of explicit implications, flirting, a bit of fluff, somewhat perv!hoon, long distance relationship au (sawie) ⌂ word count. 1160 🖱 ⑅ path to bookshelf ◍
❝ Incoming Call from Sunghoon ❄️ ❞
Your laptop screen read spontaneously.
Ahh, yes… the love of my life among many other luxuries, you smiled within yourself, just as you pressed the green ‘answer’ icon.
Though, it had been roughly thirty minutes since then, with the clock on your computer screen now displaying an oddly habitual series of digits...
2:57am
You and your boyfriend's conversation started off strong with wholesome pleasantries and heartwarming exchanges as usual…
But as the hour grew wearier, the topics on the table became more and more raunchy by the minute… not that you were complaining, that is…
And neither was he…
It had literally been over a week since Sunghoon last saw you in the flesh… since he last got to feel you in his arms or taste you on his tongue…
And so, FaceTiming had become a great method for you two to stay in touch on a more personal level whenever he was away for work.
Click.
You got up from your bed to make sure that your bedroom door was locked, but also to make sure that Sunghoon knew you were wearing his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants...
The one's he had sent as an “X-mas in July” gift...
“Your ass looks good in those,” he started from behind the screen, folding his toned pale arms over the pillow he laid on.
“Just wait til you see what's hiding underneath,” you returned seductively, adding the word “tomorrow” at the end to which Sunghoon sighed.
“Right, because I've already been waiting forever and a day to relieve my sexual tension this week… another day to the prison sentence wouldn’t hurt…”
“Awww,” you pouted facetiously at him, “I thought you liked it whenever I teased you.…”
“In-person, sure. That’s when I can handle it, but online? Pfft,” he says, running an impatient hand through his hair.
“Fine… let’s play a game to take your mind off of things—”
“I bet I can guess what color panties you’re wearing right now…”
“Sunghoon!?” You exclaimed with shock, making your boyfriend smirk shamelessly at your adorable reaction, “and do you expect some sort of reward if you guess correctly?”
“After three tries, yes,” he nodded, clearing his throat slightly before proceeding with his series of guesses.
“Hmm,” he began, “are they that one lacy black pair you have with the bows on the side?”
“No,” you answered while laughing, “and just guess a color, not a specific pair…”
“Alright alright… hmm,” he hummed in thought, looking above as if an answer would fall from the sky.
“White?”
“Guess again,” your voice sang playfully this time, “you have one chance left now…”
“Shit, okay… I have a suggestion then…”
“Uh oh, plot twist,” you said, making him chuckle slightly, “go on…”
“How about you just show me your panties and then I’ll tell you what color they are?”
“Gosh, you really know a way to a woman’s heart, don’t you Hoon?” You asked rhetorically, ‘tsking’ at his fraudulent suggestion.
“Of course I do… taking a guess here, but you’re supposed to start between her legs, right?”
You shook your head at your boyfriends words, letting an exaggerated sigh escape your lips… “Even if that were true, it’s not like it’d benefit you right now, anyways…”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“Because you’re behind a screen,” you began matter-of-factly, “miles and miles away with only your right hand and some amateur porn to keep you company…”
“But I have you, too, princess,” he smiled, adjusting himself on the mattress so he could get closer to the camera, “unless you’re thinking about leaving me already…”
“Please, I would never,” you say in an almost offended tone, “that would be child neglect…”
“Oh, so you’re my mommy now?”
You gave him the best side-eye you could muster, making him chuckle at how you cute you looked in your oversized glasses…
“If you’re into that, sure,” you finally answered.
“Well then your baby wants to see his mommy’s tits,” he replied almost instantly, innocently nuzzling his chin into his pillow, “and without the bra this time, thanks…”
“I’m not showing your sick ass shit,” you returned while laughing, throwing up a few ‘L signs’ with your fingers as he chuckled at your rejection, showcasing his pearly fangs.
Letting himself calm down from laughing, he cleared his throat before speaking again, “My next guess is white, then…”
“But you already guessed white earlier?”
“And I’m guessing it again,” he repeated, making you quirk a suspicious brow at him.
“If you’re trying to imply that I creamed my pants, you’re wrong.”
“Oh my God, ____,” he sighs dramatically, adjusting his laying position on his bed once more, “can you just tell me that I’m right so we can fuck already?”
“Oh, so you waited all this time to tell me that sex was supposed to be the reward?!”
“Well, yea, I figured it was obvious,” he shrugged nonchalantly.
“Damn, Hoon… when you put it like that, it makes me think my body’s all you want…”
“You know that’s not all I want, baby,” he corrected, licking his lips while stretching out the tiredness in his back, “I just don’t like being in the position to beg for it, y’know?”
“Welcome to my world…” you said.
“Thanks for having me,” he smiled back, rubbing his eyes as a frustrated groan left his mouth.
“What’s the problem now, you big baby?”
He hid his face in his pillow before speaking, “I’m horny and youuuu are not helping…”
You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s attempt to fault you for his frustration, “I wouldn’t be much help to you anyways given the distance…”
He abruptly lifted his head from the pillow to flash you a dumbfounded look, “Babe… why’re you acting like e-sex doesn’t exist?”
“Because it’s literally 3 am and I trust that you can be patient til I can see you properly,” you clarified, adding yet another “tomorrow” at the end of your sentence.
And all Sunghoon could bring himself to do at this point was pout, hiding his face in the pillow once again which made you giggle at his sulking.
“Babyyyy…. C’monnn, you can wait for me, can’t you?” You asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, tilting your head at him in a cooing manner.
“I’m literally two seconds from slapping my dick against the screen because of your face right now,” he confessed shamelessly, making you burst into a fit of laughter.
“You’re so out of pocket for saying that,” you giggle, covering your face slightly to hide how flustered you appeared.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, a giggle still present in your throat as you tried regathering your emotions.
“Continue, continue…” you whisper with a warm smile on your face now, looking like a split image of the crying emoji in this moment.
“Thank you,” he scoffed with feigned offense, “but yes… I can wait til tomorrow… just for you, angel…”
tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬メ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆
#𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 🎂#enhypen#enhypen sunghoon#park sunghoon#sunghoon smut#sunghoon#enhypen fluff#enhypen smut#enhypen oneshots#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen drabbles#enhypen x reader#enha fluff#enha x reader#sunghoon park#sunghoon hard hours#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon hard thoughts#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon suggestive#sunghoon oneshots#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon drabbles#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x you#enhypen x you#sunghoon au#sunghoon smau
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Adam and Mr Wavell
(Written for @transformee) (Original story posted September 27th 2021) This story has been significantly Updated!
It’d started like any other normal day for Adam. He got up out of bed. Got himself some breakfast. Headed out for work. The usual routine that he’d long since gotten used to. Being an engineer certainly wasn’t the worst job in the world. In fact Adam found it rather rewarding sometimes and the pay was decent enough. If anyone were to ask, Adam would say he was satisfied with his life. And that was half true. Sure he was content with the life he had now. He couldn’t exactly complain about having a stable job that allowed him to live somewhat comfortably. Yet despite that Adam always kinda wished his lifestyle was a tad bit… different.
Each and every day when Adam opened one of his social media’s, his feed would practically be flooded with men who were smoking hot and jacked as fuck. And most of these men pretty much got paid just for looking as incredible as they do. Whether that be as a personal trainer, model, an actor or even in porn! These men got paid to look sexy as fuck and show it off. It sounded like a dream!
In all honesty It was that sort of lifestyle Adam wished he would have strived for instead. He wasn't a bad looking dude by any means. He believed he was pretty handsome, just a little out of shape was all. Mostly due to how he was never able to really push himself into working out or dieting properly. And for the longest time Adam thought he was okay with that. Deep down however, part of him always wished he’d led the same lifestyle as those fit hunks he saw online.
Being in his thirties now Adam had started to believe that perhaps a lifestyle like that just wasn’t for him. Since then he’d tried to just make peace with the fact that he was just an average looking dude working a normal job. That was until he arrived home later that evening and everything changed.
Adam unlocked the front door before stepping into his home. Letting out a long sigh of relief as he closed it behind him.
“Home at last I see.”
Adam almost jumped out his skin as he whipped around to see a man sat in a chair across the room.
“W-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!?” Adam bellowed at the man in a panic. His brain was already cycling at a hundred miles a minute trying to think of the best course of action. Grab a weapon? Call the police? And yet while Adam was freaking out, the gentleman sitting in his house seemed completely unfazed.
With a smirk the man stood up from his seat, allowing Adam to get a better look at him. From what Adam could tell, the man looked to be in his early forties, late thirties at the youngest. He had short brown hair along with a nicely trimmed beard to match, the latter of which had a few flecks of silver running through it. As for his body, he looked to be just about 6 feet tall, if a tiny bit less. In terms of his build, the man seemed relatively lean with very little fat or muscle. As for his clothes, he wore a navy blue suit jacket over a white button up shirt along with a navy dotted tie. These were contrasted by a pair of tan khaki pants which were held firmly in place by a brown belt. Lastly his feet were clad in a fairly large pair of dark brown dress shoes along with a pair of black dress socks. An ordinary business casual look but this man seemed to be anything but ordinary.
(Original Version of Mr Wavell here)
“You don’t need to be afraid Adam. I’m here to help you.” The mysterious man claimed in a way that probably sounded more ominous than intended. Despite it he began to step towards Adam.
“N-no… how do you know my name? I don’t know you!” Adam panicked as he moved backwards to keep his distance until his back was against the front door. He was about to reach for the handle and run outside until suddenly… he felt calm? Safe even? It was as if all of his natural danger sense had turned themselves off in favor of wanting to trust the stranger before him.
“No you don’t know me. But I know you Adam. I’ve been watching you for a little while now. Looking into your mind. Reading your desires.” The suited stranger’s voice was oddly soothing, so much so that Adam hardly even noticed his eyes glowing deep purple for a moment. “You may refer to as Mr Wavell” He revealed, the very name sending shivers up Adam’s spine for reasons unknown. “And for what I’m doing here? Well… I’m just looking for entertainment I suppose.” Wavell shrugged nonchalantly.
He went on to explain that he had… abilities. Abilities that allowed him to do things thought to be impossible. Despite the inexplicable wave of calm and trust that’d washed him moments ago, Adam couldn’t bring his rational mind to believe the man. Afterall he was talking about having magical powers like some kind of wizard! But before Adam had a chance to protest, he found himself frozen in both wonder and fear as Mr Wavell began to float off the ground.
“I must reiterate that I’m here to help, not hurt you.” Wavell said, noting the bewildered look on Adam’s face. “I can give you any life that you desire. Allow you to become whoever you choose. What do you say?” He boldly claimed, floating down until he stood directly beside Adam, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Adam was still frozen stiff. Was he dreaming? Was this actually real??
“Oh come on. You know this is a privilege right? It’s not everyday that I actually reveal my physical self to the people I help.” Wavell said, leaning forwards with a small smirk. That of course only left more questions in Adam’s mind.
The mysterious man went on to explain in further detail what exactly he could do for Adam. He could alter reality to change Adam’s past choices in order to create a new and better present. He could transform Adam’s body right here on the spot into anything Adam desired. Muscle growth, increase of height, bigger dick? All things that Adam’s rational mind wouldn’t have believed to be possible had it not been for the obvious display of real magic he’d just witnessed. However there was one option that caught Adam’s ear. Stealing the life and body of someone else. As confused and scared as Adam was right now, he couldn’t help but be curious and even slightly aroused at the mere idea of it.
“O-okay…” Adam mumbled meekly. “I want your help…”
Wavell clapped his hands together with a large grin. “Perfect! Now there are many different ways I can do this.” He began, sounding almost a little too enthusiastic about it all. “I can switch your soul with another person. Your soul in their body and theirs in your body. I could transform you and this other person into one another. You transform into him and vice versa. You get it.” Wavell laid out the options as if he were about to have Adam choose one. “However I’ve already picked out another more interesting method for you. So all I want you to do is pick someone.”
Adam thought for a moment. If this was real then this could be one of the biggest decisions of his life. But surely there was some kind of monkey‘s paw right? “What’s the catch?” He asked, finally putting on a brave face.
The magical imbued stranger raised an eyebrow to Adam. “There isn’t one. You don’t owe me a thing. Honestly!” Wavell stepped back and put his hands up. “I’m doing this because I love it. It’s what I do. Hopefully once it’s all over you’ll enjoy it just as much as I.” Wavell lowered his hands before placing them on his hips. “Now. Is there anybody you have in mind who perhaps you’d like to become?”
Adam thought for a moment. He wasn't sure. This was just so surreal it made it hard to think. Like a fog clouding his thoughts. “I don’t… know?”
“Don’t worry. I get you’re probably still trying to wrap your mind around all this so I’ll do you a favor.” Wavell gently placed a hand on Adam's head and closed his eyes. Immediately Adam felt strange. As if he could feel this man’s fingers shuffling through his mind. Feeling out his wants and desires until Wavell got a decent idea of the kind of body to put Adam in. He took his hand away from Adam’s head. “I think I know just the guy but he’s not exactly close. He lives up in Virginia while you’re here in Georgia. How would you feel about a little change of scenery?”
“What do yo—“ before Adam could finish, the world around him spun and shifted.
———
Chris found himself standing alone in the locker room at his local gym. It was just about closing time now and he was the last guy remaining other than staff. He wiped away the sweat that’d been dripping down his face with a towel as he grabbed his stuff out of the locker. It’d been another tough workout for him today but it was always worth it to feel that pump and admire the physique he’d been able to build thanks to all his hard work. Unbeknownst to him however, a certain two individuals watched on behind a veil of magic that cloaked them both from sight..
Moments prior, Adam and Wavell arrived at the gym via the latter’s unique abilities. In a gust of purple smoke, Adam went from standing by his front door to now finding himself standing inside a gym locker room that didn’t seem at all familiar.
“H-H-Hoolyyy… FUCK! What just HAPPENED!?” Adam shouted hysterically.
“Basic teleport.” Wavell replied swiftly and bluntly as if that should’ve been common knowledge. “Don’t worry about that. Look.” Wavell nodded towards the entrance to the locker room, prompting Adam to look as well.
Mere seconds after, a sweaty muscular man wearing a tight tank top and shorts entered. He was in phenomenal shape. Far better than Adam was. Not only did he look sculpted with thick muscle from head to toe, but this hunk even had one of the most handsome faces to go along with it. Yet despite all the starring Adam and Wavell were doing, the jock seemed to pay no mind to either of them. Not even a glance. Like he didn’t even know they existed!
“I’ve made us invisible to him. He can neither see nor hear us.” Mr Wavell confirms to Adam. Right on cue this man they now seem to be spying on walked directly past them both without a clue. As he does Adam gets a good whiff of the stud's powerful post workout scent, turning the semi he got just from looking at the man into a full hard on. The pair continued to watch as the man opened up his locker and pulled out a towel to wipe himself down with.
“His name is Chris. He’s twenty eight years old and has been working out most of his life. Hence the gorgeous physique. And to top it off he’s quite the looker. Needless to say his body and looks have awarded him a lot. Modeling opportunities. A large following on social media. An army of men and women alike drooling over him and eager to throw money at him. He’s one lucky bastard.” The warlock explained, seeming to possess a bottomless well of knowledge. “I’d ask how you feel about him but I think I already know the answer.” Wavell sniggered as he glanced down at the bulge in Adams pants.
Adam’s face turned a bright shade of red as he tried to hide his growing arousal with little success. He couldn’t help it as his eyes traced over the glistening sweaty physique of the hunky god before him. Watching intently as the man removed his tank top to reveal the muscle that’d been hidden underneath.
“So… are you gonna turn me into… him?” Adam gulped, trying his best not to drool at the mere thought of it as he watched the man peel off the tank top. His cock getting even more excited at the reveal of Chris’ muscled upper body.
Wavell simply nodded.
“Does that mean you’re gonna turn him into me?” Adam wondered.
Wavell crossed his arms and hummed. “Not exactly. Normally I would but I’ve got something different in mind today.” Wavell confessed as the blank look on his face slowly turned to a sadistic looking grin that left Adam feeling a bit nervous for Chris’ fate. But the magical being was quick to notice this, his look softening again to one of reassurance. “And before you ask, no I’m not going to kill him or anything like that. He’ll be perfectly fine.”
Hearing that set Adam’s mind at ease. That said he was however rather curious to see what Wavell was planning. What exactly was he gonna do to this Chris guy?
It was then that Wavell’s eyes glowed that bright purple once more. At first Adam didn’t realise what Wavell had done until…
“Hey… Where the hell did you guys come from?” Chris asked as he turned to see two men staring at him from across the locker room. It was like they’d just appeared out of thin air.
Wavell stepped forward, straightening his tie as he did “Oh I just know you’re gonna enjoy this body Adam.” He declared, running his gaze up and down Chris’ body. Lingering on those enormous thighs and juicy pecs.
At this point Chris was getting super creeped out and understandably so. “What the fuck are talking about dude!? Are you trying to hit on me or something?” He questioned, quickly getting annoyed at how this dude was eyeing him up like a piece of meat.
It was then in the blink of an eye that Wavell stood inches away from Chris. It seeing a real life glitch as Wavell instantly moved from halfway across the room to his face being less than a ruler's length away from Chris. He barely had time to think let alone act before Wavell grabbed one of his boulder-like shoulders. Suddenly Chris was completely immobilised thanks to Wavell’s magic. And with that the aforementioned wizard slipped his other hand down in Chris’ gym shorts before cupping his crotch. Loving how Chris’ cock and balls pressed tightly against the pair of white compression shorts he wore underneath.
“Don’t worry big guy. I promise you won’t even feel a thing.” An ominously reassuring smile spread across Wavell’s face as his eyes glowed once more. It was then that a bright flash of light enveloped both him and Chris, forcing Adam to cover his eyes. It only lasted a couple of seconds but when the light dissipated, Chris was nowhere to be seen. The only things left of the hunk were his clothes as the gym shorts he’d been wearing fell to the floor atop of the now empty pair of socks and trainers. Meanwhile those white compression shorts Chris had been wearing were still in Wavell’s hand, the warlock holding them gently now as he inspected them for whatever reason.
Chris had no idea what just happened. That weird middle aged looking dude just grabbed him and now all of a sudden he felt so light and… hollow? The first thing he saw was the smirking face of that dude again only now it was from a lower angle, as if he were being held by the man and looked down upon. Yet as bizarre as that was, he couldn’t ignore the strong smell that seemed identical to his own crotch. Only now it surrounded him completely. Somehow Chris was able to shift his gaze in order to look down at himself and what he saw was unreal. Not just unreal, it was impossible and terrifying! No longer did he see the thick muscular body he was used to seeing. In fact he didn’t see a human body at all! He’d been turned into the very same pair of white compression shorts he’d been wearing! He could even feel the creepy dude’s hand against the fabric of the compression shorts as if it were his own skin! He wanted the scream in horror but nothing came out thanks to his lack of a face. It was only thanks to magic that he could still see and hear.
“This’ll do just fine.” Wavell said before turning to Adam who was still looking on in confusion. “I’ve trapped him inside these shorts he was wearing. I’ve made it so he can still see, hear, feel, taste and smell with his spiritual senses in there but besides that he’s completely helpless.” Wavell explained with a tad too much enjoyment. “Now all you’ve got to do is put him on and everything he had will become yours.”
Wavell instructed Adam to strip down. The latter hesitated for a moment but did but nervously did as he was asked. Afterwards not being able to help feeling a little embarrassed with how exposed he felt but Wavell didn’t seem to mind. The warlock handed the enchanted compression shorts over to Adam with a mischievous smile, clearly excited to see what was to come.
Chris was unsurprisingly freaking the fuck out as Adam took the shorts. Between what’s happened to him and hearing what Wavell had just said, he was having a complete meltdown. He didn’t want this Adam guy to take over his life!? Unfortunately his cries fell on deaf ears. He was powerless to stop it. Unable to do a single thing as Adam gently slipped his legs into the compression shorts one at a time before pulling them up. Chris protested all he could but it made no difference as Adam pulled Chris’ hollow fabric body over his ass and crotch.
As insane as this whole situation was, Adam couldn’t help shivering with delight. Knowing he was not only wearing compression shorts that belonged to such a hunk but also that same hunk was trapped inside them! He knew it was wrong and twisted of him to get satisfaction out of this but he couldn’t help it! Even though the shorts were a bit ill fitting on him, just having that jock’s musk surrounding his own crotch was turning him on like hell!
“So, how long will it ta-aaaakeeeuuuuaahhhhhhh” Adam’s question quickly devolved into a long groan thanks to an unfamiliar sensation that began racing through his body! Flooding every vein in his body with levels of magical energy his brain found difficult to comprehend. And then it began.
Before anything else the energy began to focus on Adam’s glutes. His groans became even louder as his ass cheeks started to tone and expand with muscle until it had ballooned into a thick muscle ass that filled out the backside of his new compression shorts perfectly. The feeling of which had Adam’s already hard cock leaking pre-cum that stained the front of said shorts. And yet despite it being at full mast, Adam could feel his cock somehow growing longer and fatter too! His bulge grew even more obvious by the second while his balls swelled larger as well to accommodate. His nuts now churned with the very same cum Chris once had.
Through all his groaning Adam was able to look down at his crotch and over his shoulder to see that he now had Chris’ cock and ass! And as his hips resized, the haunted compression shorts now fit him like a glove. Meanwhile Chris himself was soaring through a flurry of emotions as he begged to wake up from whatever nightmare he was trapped in. He could feel himself being stretched out across his out muscle butt while the taste of cum soaked into his fabric. Unfortunately for him, this was very very real.
From there the transformation continued to spread outwards and it progressed both up and down Adam’s body. His quads and hamstrings found themselves bulking up significantly, causing a soft grunt to escape Adam’s lips as he grew a set of meaty thunderous thighs. Simultaneously his eyes widened with disbelief as the fat on his belly started to melt away before his eyes, replacing itself with pure muscle mass in the form of strong thick abs. The kind Adam could’ve only dreamed of having. Every part of him wanted to stop and admire his new bulky thighs and abs but the transformation was far too impatient to give him the time.
Next up were his calves. He could feel them pulsing as they swelled with power to match his thighs. But they weren’t the real show. How could they be when Adam was far too absorbed into watching his flabby chest transform into a huge pair of pecs! It was something he’d always dreamed of. Being able to look down and see a hulking pair of muscle tits. And now it's finally becoming a reality! Adam’s eyes lit up with a mixture of joy and lust as he watched his chest begin to protrude outwards. His engorged cock growing more excited than ever as his pecs inflated into two gorgeous watermelons. He already wanted nothing more than to grope them and if he hadn’t felt the transformation beginning to surge through his arms, he would’ve.
But before his arms could have their glory, his shoulders exploded with mass first. Growing in an almost cartoony fashion as they transformed into cannonballs while his traps made sure to follow suit. With that, Adam’s biceps couldn’t wait any longer. He flexed them with a long moan as ballooned under the pressure, swelling to massive proportions with unthinkable strength. Soon after his forearms followed the same example as veins began popping like crazy across his bulging arms.
What came next however felt distinctly different from everything else. His hands and feet. They were a totally different experience but still painless nonetheless. His feet were the first to change. Increasing size after size at a rapid rate that certainly would’ve made his shoes feel tighter had he not taken them off. His hands weren’t far behind though as they too grew slightly. The more noticeable change however was how much rougher and calloused they became.
At last Adam’s body seemed complete but there was one last thing to change. As soon as the transformation had spread up his neck, causing it to thicken and his voice to deepen, his head was all that was left.
Adam gritted his teeth and scrunched his face as his features began to twist and alter themselves. Immediately he started to look younger than before as he regressed from his mid thirties back to his late twenties. His face quickly brgan taking on a much more jockish look as he started to look less and less like himself and more like Chris. To top it off his hair morphed into Chris’ messy brown style while his eyes shifted more towards Chris’ soft yet still masculine ones. Finishing things off by having Chris’ short brown beard sprout across Adam’s now much sharper jawline.
At last the intense sensation subsided. Adam was finally able to catch his breath as sweat dripped down his transformed physique. He looked down at himself in disbelief. It didn’t seem real but… he now owned the body of a total fucking hunk! He simply couldn’t help himself as he flexed his new massive guns, taking turns feeling them with each hand. Feeling the power flowing through his biceps as he flexed them was something else entirely. And of course he couldn’t ignore the huge new muscle titties that sat on his chest now. He was groping and flexing them too in no time. It’d be a crime not to worship them. With the excitement of it all, Adam also couldn’t help but dig his nose into his new sweaty pits to get a good whiff of that post workout scent he’d adopted from Chris.
“See. I always know what’s best for my clients.” Wavell sniggered. Adam was so enthralled by his new body that he’d almost forgotten Wavell was there.
“Clients?” Adam questioned, a little shocked by the sound of his new voice.
“Well… ‘clients’ sounds better than ‘subjects’.” The warlock admitted cheekily. “Now! I’m sure you’ve already got questions and I’m pretty certain I know the first one. Are you gonna turn back to normal if you take those compression shorts off? Well allow me to reassure you in saying no.” Wavell confirmed what Adam was bound to ask. “When I trapped Chris inside those shorts, I also sealed his physical essence inside them. Now that you’ve worn them however, that physical essence is inside you. Permanently. So you’ll never have to worry about losing your new body. By all means it belongs to you now. Besides… I’m sure you want to get a better look at what’s underneath.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows while glancing down at the obscene bulge in Adam’s shorts.
Adam turned and strutted over to one of the many locker room mirrors, cock bouncing awkwardly as he did. Immediately upon seeing his reflection Adam was awestruck. He was in love. With himself!! He just couldn’t help admiring his muscles some more before eventually grabbing the waistband and pulling down his haunted shorts. The real Chris screams in protest as he finds himself dropping to this imposter's ankles.
“Oh… Fuuuuuuuccck…” Adam muttered as his new cock flopped out before him in all its glory. His hand practically gravitated towards it before wrapping around the girthy shaft. God it was massive. He was almost afraid to start pumping it since after all that transforming, it felt like it was ready to blow at any second! The sensitivity on it was just through the roof! But Adam couldn’t help himself and ended up giving it a few tugs. In turn he found himself letting out a deep manly groan before, allowing the monster to buck involuntarily for a moment.
Before he ended up busting a nut, Adam’s decided he wanted to get a better look at his new glutes first as he turned his backside to the mirror. He just loved how big and bubbly his cheeks looked. When he flexed them they were as hard as steel but relaxed they felt squishy and jiggly. Part of him wished he could stuff his face into his own ass with how good it looked. That’s when another thought sprung to mind. Adam gently reached back towards his ass, squeezing it a little before slipping a finger between his cheeks as a way to test something. And it was just as he thought. The moment his finger came anywhere near his new asshole it immediately tightened on instinct. The reflex was so strong that it pretty much confirmed Chris used to be straight. Well not anymore. This ass was far too hot to go to waste.
As much as he wanted to tease his virgin ass a little more, Adam just couldn’t ignore his cock any longer. It was pulsing and begging for release at this point. He needed to grab it! He needed to jerk it! He needed to bust a fuckin nut bro! As Chris would say anyway. But before he could begin pumping, Wavell chirped up yet again.
“How about you let me take care of that for you. Just think of it as your way of thanking me.” Wavell licked his lips as sauntered over towards Adam before kneeling in front of that massive cock. Wavell opened his mouth before wrapping his lips around Adam’s meaty dick and began sucking like a pro.
“Oouh-ooooh… ooauhh… Oohhhhuuu!” Adam was completely taken aback as he was forced to let out disjointed moans once again. All the while his new voice echoed through the locker rooms. Just the view of being able to look down and now only see such a hot jock body as his own but also seeing this hot older man sucking him off was beyond sexy. Wavell swiftly bobbed his head up and down on the cock, somehow taking Adam’s entire length without even the slightest gag. Whoever the hell this Mr Wavell guy was, he certainly knew how to work those bearded lips of his around a huge cock. That’s for fucking for sure.
“Fuuuuuck!! I’m gonna… OOOAAUUHHH!!“ Adam Could feel it already. A tsunami of cum getting ready to spew from his dick. Before he’d even laughed Wavell was already grabbing onto Adam’s ass to make sure he didn’t try and pull away. But of course Adam had no plans on doing as his dick finally let loose torrents of hot cum that down Wavell’s throat. The older man gulped it all down greedily, sucking every last drop of cum out of Adam’s cock before finally pulling off it, a bit of cum dribbling down his beard.
“Ahhhhhhhh…” Wavell leaned back with a look of pure satisfaction crossing his face. “Now that was refreshing. I can confirm that your new cum tastes absolutely delicious.” Wavell confessed as he got back up onto his feet. He dusted himself off a little before readjusting his suit and tie. “Well it seems my work here is done. Chris’ memories should start to kick in for you in about 10 minutes from now. You’ll then know everything you need to know about his life. Where your new home is, how he earns money, what kinds of friends he keeps. And whatever else you need to play out his life as if it were your own.” Wavell looked down at the tight compression shorts Adam had begun pulling back up. “And the real Chris gets to watch everything from between your legs… or from the laundry basket.” He chuckled.
With that Wavell began to levitate off the ground once again. “I’m off to have some more fun. Enjoy that hunky new body of yours Adam. Or should I call you Chris? That is your new name now after all.” Mr Wavell grinned knowing just how much the real Chris was begging to be set free. “Keep your eyes open though. I might come back and visit you again some day just to check in.” And just like that the magical man seemingly disappeared into thin air, leaving Adam alone.
Finally alone at last, Adam looked down at the compression shorts that now cling tightly to his hulking body. “Enjoying yourself down there? Being pressed against your own dick and balls?” Adam teased somewhat cruelly, enjoying this a little more than he probably should be right now. Going as far as to reach down and grope his crotch to really rub the scent in.
This whole time Chris had been screaming and protesting as this body snatcher groped his body and even more so when he’d got his dick sucked by another dude! But now as the scent of his former cock and balls mixed with cum and sweat started to mess with Chris’ fragile mind, he was starting to give in at last. His thoughts grew foggier while his fabric body continued to absorb the powerful smell. He looked up only to see his own handsome face smirking down at him. No. It wasn’t his face anymore. There was no going back. Now he was nothing more than a pair of compression shorts for his master to wear.
Meanwhile Adam decided to open the bag that’d been in Chris’s locker only to pull out a pair of clean grey t-shirt and a cap. Without hesitation he slipped both of them on, loving how the large shirt hugged his muscular frame in all the right places. After which he grabbed and pulled on the black gym shorts Chris had been wearing earlier before tugging on Chris’ gym socks and trainers. All of it fitting him like a glove. At last turning to the trusty mirror once again, he couldn’t help but whistle at how fucking sexy he looked! So much so that he started turning to inspect his body for all different angles. God he just couldn’t get enough of those bulky legs. As much as he adored his arms and pecs, he was starting to think his legs may actually be his best asset afterall.
He couldn’t help grabbing Chris’ phone and taking a few quick photos of himself to savour the moment. Pictures he’d surely look back on in the future to remember the day when he stole this body. And to jerk off too of course. Maybe he’d even post them to one of his new socials later.
Now all he had to do was wait for these memories to kick in. That Mr Wavell dude said they were gonna come any second and when they did Adam was truly going to become Chris inside and out. And once he’d settled into his new life he was gonna see if he could find some dudes eager to fuck his muscle ass get railed by his enormous new cock. With a body like this he was bound to have stamina for hours.
Then it hit him. All at once. Adam let out a thunderous roar as his mind flooded with memories from Chris’ life. Most of them being delegated to the back of his consciousness to pull on when needed while others came straight to the forefront. Immediately he knew everything there was to know about Chris. He even felt some of Chris’ personality traits starting to take root. That cocky gym bro attitude was starting to settle in comfortably. He might’ve still remembered everything from when he was Adam, but that wasn’t who he was anymore. That was a mere shell that the real him had finally emerged from.
Chris strode confidently out of the Gym and towards his car. He just couldn’t wait to get home so he could strip down and take as many nudes as possible of himself. His new life was about to be absolutely incredible.
#mr wavell#male body swap#male transformation#male tf#male body theft#male muscle theft#identity theft#male muscle growth#hunk#jock#straight to gay#male musk#tf by clothing#clothing tf#mental change
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Hi coco , I don’t know if your still doing requests if not juts by past this .
Fem reader x Marshall
Reader is some sort of celebrity and her and Marshall’s sex tape gets leaked
SECRETS OUT - ONE SHOT
Eminem x Celebrity Reader
Author’s note : Thank you so much for your request. I Hope you like it ❤️. I thoroughly enjoyed writing one shots and HCs so if you have requests, feel free to send them to me in my Ask.
Synopsis : You’re a prominent influencer, having a secret relationship with Em for years. None of you intend on making it public… until your sextape gets leaked.
When you started dating Marshall, the two of you had a serious talk about how important it was to him that your relationship remained private. He knew that you shared a lot of your life online - hell, it was kind of your job as an influencer - and respected it, but he was adamant about not being featured on your social media accounts and YouTube channel. You respected his wish. To be honest, you were a little relieved : your last relationship had ended because of public scrutiny and you didn’t want history to repeat itself. Especially since the person you were dating was a megastar. No offense to your ex, who was still a very successful influencer, but next to Marshall Mathers, he was chopped liver. If publicly dating someone with ten million YouTube followers was hard, you couldn’t imagine how it would be if everyone knew you were dating Eminem.
You actually did a good job at keeping your followers and his fans in the dark about your relationship. To everyone, the both of you were single and, even though they were rumours about the two of you dating other public figures, you had never been linked together. No one expected you, a twenty-something fashion and beauty influencer to date Eminem. From the looks of it, you didn’t have much in common and didn’t run in the same circles.
So your relationship flew under the radar for years and you even managed to get married without the public knowing. You had the most beautiful wedding, held in a secluded location with only your closest friends, with a lot of logistics and NDAs involved. Everyone joked that you had to be the only influencer who didn’t share the most important day of their life on social media. Especially when the wedding was so insta-worthy. A few years ago, you would have been a little bummed about it, but being with Marshall kept you grounded and reminded you that not everything was meant to be shared online. If anything, the secrecy of your wedding and the « no phones or camera allowed » rule allowed everyone to enjoy the moment instead of focusing on filming it or snapping pictures of their plates or outfit. That didn’t mean there were no pictures taken though. The only person who immortalised the wedding was the photographer and, though guests were sent the pictures, they were asked not to share, and everyone respected your wishes.
Just because the two of you didn’t share pictures online didn’t mean you didn’t take plenty. In fact, your phones were full of cute selfies of the two of you. At the beginning of your relationship, he often made fun of your habit to try and immortalise moments, but he ended up getting into it. When the two of you met, he was still using an old BlackBerry and took the crappiest selfies, but you managed to turn him into the perfect Instagram husband. In fact, he was the one who helped you do your daily outfit posts and he was more than decent at telling you how you should pose. And if he was a bit judgy of influencers at first, he had come to understand your line of work and your love of fashion. He was extremely supportive of every thing you did and his eyes were gleaming with adoration when he was watching you film your videos, though he still liked to tease you.
One evening, during your honeymoon, you found him filming himself in the mirror as you walked out of the bathroom in your finest, sluttiest lingerie.
- What are you doing ? You giggled.
- Immortalising the outfit. So, it’s simple, the boxers are Givenchy, fall collection… care to share yours ? He chuckled as he pointed the phone to you.
- So tonight, I’m wearing a gorgeous Dita Von Teese set, you said as you posed and played along. We have this gorgeous corset, and the panties are amazing, too…
- Turn around and show the back, babe, he instructed. You’re gorgeous.
This became a little game that you played during the whole honeymoon. Each night, Marshall filmed you in your lingerie, under the pretense that he wanted to remember your honeymoon as vividly as possible. This made you laugh and you let him. It started as « innocent » « outfit of the night » videos but, on occasion, you both felt frisky and ended up filming a literal sex tape, or rather a series of them. Nothing especially elaborate, just one of you holding the phone while doing the deed, just for laughs. You didn’t even watch them after or think about it. It was really just the two of you clowning around, making fun of your own IG account and enjoying your honeymoon. Once you got back home, you didn’t keep it going and eventually came to forget there were videos of you and Marshall having sex on his phone. Until the videos were leaked, that is.
You had been married for about six months and enjoyed your weekly brunch with Marshall’s daughters when they suddenly went silent, after Stevie showed her sisters something on her phone.
- Oh my God, I’m going to puke, Stevie said.
- Girls, no phone at the table, Marshall groaned.
- Have you guys… seen the news ? Hailie asked.
- What news ? You asked back, a tad confused.
- The Pistons headline, Alaina said.
- What’s wrong with the team ? Marshall asked with a raised eyebrow.
The girls frowned and stayed silent for a second before handing the phone to the two of you. There was an article about you and Marshall, soberly titled : « Detroit’s ultimate Piston : Eminem sextape leaked (featuring influencer Y/N ». The headline was enough to make you want to die. The article wasn’t much better. It commented on the videos and showed a few screenshots of tweets reacting to the leak such as « Bro can’t take a decent selfie but you can trust him to point the camera at his dick correctly 👀 » or « Damn. He’s 51 but Y/N’s the one who’s gonna need hip replacement surgery with these trusts 💀». You and Marshall stared at each other while the girls were looking at you. You felt humiliated. Not only were the videos leaked online, you were confronted by your step-daughters - though they were old enough to be your sisters - about it. You looked down, absolutely mortified.
- Don’t watch these, Marshall told his daughters.
- Like we’d want to see that, Stevie pointed out.
- Really, guys, a sextape ? Alaina asked. Dad, you’re 51 !
- I’m going to be sick, you said as you left the table and headed to your room.
You heard Marshall calling your name but there was absolutely no way you could face anyone right now. Once you were alone, you anxiously checked your phone. Of course, everyone was in a frenzy. Your manager was texting you and your social media accounts were flooded. Both in the comments and your DMs, people were going crazy and talking about the videos. You already had a huge following, but it was something else entirely. You immediately called your manager, who was beyond pissed. Apparently, some brands you collaborated threatened to sever their ties with you. Of course, you getting rammed on video didn’t really fit in with your usual good girl image and it wouldn’t be a good look for them. Now, not only were you ashamed but you were also terrified. You had worked too hard for your career to crumble that easily.
- What should I do ? You anxiously asked.
- For now, nothing, she said. I’m going to consult with a few people to see what we can do for damage control. Though if I were you I’d get ready to film an apology video.
- I didn’t do anything wrong, you pointed out. These videos were not meant to be shared.
- You know how it is, Y/N. I’ll get back to you ASAP.
- Thanks, you said sheepishly. Talk to you soon.
When you hung up, you couldn’t resist the temptation to go and check other articles. Obviously, news traveled fast and you were now a trending subject. Marshall being the more famous of the two of you, his name was on every headline but, from the looks of it, you were the one whose reputation was suffering the most. While everybody seemed to praise his performance - and impressive physique - you were deemed a slut by the Internet. Even worse, some people were already making memes with your face and some rappers beefing with Marshall were reposting them. You had always been a « glass half-full » type of person but you literally wanted to die. In a flash, it seemed like you could kiss your career and reputation goodbye.
After about an hour, Marshall joined you in the bedroom and took you in his arms while you were sobbing.
- Hey, he said sheepishly.
- I-I’m sorry, you said. But I can’t go and face your daughters. I just can’t. I can’t face anyone right now, I-I…
- It’s fine, he replied before kissing your forehead. I sent them home.
- Im sorry, you said. I know how much family brunch means to you…
- As it turns out, having your kids lecture you about your leaked sextape isn’t as fun as people make it out to be, he said sarcastically.
You couldn’t help but chortle. Even in this type of dramatic situations, you could always count on Marshall’s dry humor. He placed another kiss on your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs.
- We’ll be fine, he said reassuringly. Don’t worry, babe.
- Why aren’t you freaking out ? You asked. You should be freaking out.
- Oh, I’m freaking out, he said. I mean, I’m livid. But on a practical level, I know people will forget about it eventually, you know.
- Easy for you to say, you pointed out. The Internet is raving about the size of your dick and commenting about how in shape you are for an older dude… meanwhile, people are calling me a slut.
- You’re not a slut, he said as he rolled his eyes.
- Tell that to the thousand of people calling me a rapper groupie or whatever that is, you groaned.
- Doesn’t matter, he shrugged. We both know that’s not true. You’re not a groupie, you’re my wife.
- Well I’m about to be a stay at home wife, you said with tears in your eyes. I had my agent on the phone and sponsors are already breaking contracts… I-I’m losing everything, Marshall…
The tears started streaming down again. Mentioning the situation out loud was upsetting, it only meant it was real. You were really on the verge of losing everything. Your husband knew better than anyone how much your career meant to you, the work you put in and everything you had invested to be successful. To you, it wasn’t just a job : it was your dream. You had always tried your best to have a pristine reputation as an influencer and stay out of drama but now, people were looking down on you and calling you names. And you dreaded the perspective of doing an apology video. It was humiliating. In most recent years, you had focused your content on beauty and fashion instead of your private life but now, it was up for public consumption. Marshall held you tight as you told him about the comments you received and how sad you were about losing collaborations you were looking forward to.
- You don’t need these people’s money, he said.
- You know it’s not a matter of money, you replied curtly. It’s never only been about money. It’s more than that.
- I know, he said. But look, these videos were stolen from us. And if these brands who put that much effort into building a so-called relationship with you drop you easily, it’s not worth it. They should be sending you flowers and publicly supporting you.
- You know that’s not how it works, you sighed.
- All I’m saying is that it’s unfair, he said. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. But I know you. You’re strong and you’re resilient. And your followers love you. You’re not going to lose your career over this.
- I’ll do my best, you shrugged. My agency wants me to film an apology video.
- Are they serious ? He groaned. You don’t have to apologise for shit. These videos were fucking stolen, Y/N !!!
He was clearly mad. Funnily enough, he seemed more angry over the unfairness of the situation than the fact that everyone could see him having sex on video. But then again, it probably had something to do with his reputation being pretty intact. Sure, that would probably earn him a few lines in diss tracks people might be tempted to put out, but there wasn’t much to be ashamed of, as far as he was concerned. First of all, the videos clearly made a good job of shutting down rumours about his size, and he still came across as someone who had sex. On the other hand, you were more visible on the videos and earning a reputation of an easy and slutty influencer, hungry for fame. Typical double standard. You cursed whoever had managed to steal these videos. And deep down, you were mad that they had been so easily stolen.
- Why were they stolen in the first place ? You groaned.
- What ? He asked. You know how it is… people’s phones get hacked all the fucking time. Whoever did that was probably hoping to get their hands on new music. Joke’s on them, though. We only function with CDs to avoid this type of leaks.
- Joke’s on them ?! You almost yelled. The joke is on me !!! I couldn’t care less about your CDs. No offense but I’d rather have your album leaked than my career ruined, Marshall !!!
- Sorry, he said as he nervously scratched his beard. Poor choice of word. Of course it’s worse. What I mean is… hacks happen all the time. Every month there’s a new story about a celebrity’s phone or computer or cloud being hacked.
- And I’m usually over here, making fun about people who don’t know how to protect their data, you said as you rolled your eyes. The most basic thing to do is to at least put this type of photos in a folder that requires double authentication.
- Double what ?
He looked at you with big eyes. Of course, he had no idea what you were talking about. « That’s what you get for marrying a dummy when it comes to technology », you thought. You didn’t want to get mad at him, but you were pissed. You rolled your eyes at him and let your head fall on the pillow.
- I have to go and call Paul, he said. We’re both going to have to do damage control. But we’ll be fine, I promise you.
- Mmmmh, you groaned.
- I’ll do my best to find whoever did that and sue their ass, he assured you. And whoever shares these videos, too. When we got married, I swore I would protect you and you best believe I’m making good on that.
- Thanks, you said sheepishly.
The following couple of days were especially tough. News had obviously traveled fast and everyone in your life knew about the videos. You thought facing Hailie, Alaina and Stevie was hard, but FaceTiming with your parents was even harder. You could tell they were disappointed, and mostly worried for you. Both of your management teams were trying to find the best way to get through it. Unfortunately, crisis management wasn’t the same for a rapper as it was for an influencer. Marshall’s team advised him to stay silent while yours was almost begging you to address the elephant in the room, preferably with your husband, who was an ogre about it.
- I’m not appearing in your damn apology video, he groaned. It’s stupid enough that you have to do one of these.
- I have to do what’s best for my career, you pleaded.
- You always said these videos were disingenuous, he pointed out.
- Well, yes, but what am I going to do ? You groaned. Disappear and kiss my career goodbye ? And I’m not you, Marshall. I can’t just ignore it and go back to posting videos as if nothing happened.
He hummed and you kept talking about it, trying to come up with a solution. You weren’t thrilled about the idea of addressing the situation and he was right : you had nothing to apologise for. And he was fully against the idea of standing next to you like a First Lady while you filmed something so silly. Of course, it turned into an argument. There was only so much pressure you could take. And you knew Marshall was doing his best and keeping in touch with his lawyers, but you were mad that he wouldn’t support you publicly.
- I’m asking you to stand next to me for a damn video, that’s all, you sighed. I’m not asking for the moon, here. You don’t even have to say anything.
- Then what’s the point in me being here at all ? He shrugged. We agreed that I would be kept out of your content, Y/N. That was clear from the start.
- Because everyone thinks I’m a whore ! You yelled. I was fine with people not knowing about us, but I am not fine with people calling me a rapper whore. And I am not fine with my husband not supporting me. You said we were a team ! You promised to care for me and protect me for the rest of our lives. Or were these vows just words to you ?!?!
You knew he would be pissed off by your words. He had always made it clear that his vows were absolutely serious and solemn. And you knew for a fact that he had put a lot of heart and thought into writing them. He didn’t say anything, just sighed and left the room. Obviously, you both needed to take time off because this escalated into an argument. You groaned and stayed in the bedroom, which you had barely left since the videos had leaked.
A couple of hours later, you went downstairs and found Marshall watching some boxing match on TV.
- Hey, you said sheepishly.
- Hey, he simply said.
- Look, I’m sorry, I…, you began.
- Don’t sweat it, he shrugged as he gestured for you to come sit on his lap.
You sat on him and watched with him in silence, enjoying the sensation of his arms wrapped around your waist. When the match ended, he turned off TV and smiled at you.
- I took care of things, he said.
- You did ? You asked.
- I did, he confirmed. You don’t need to film that stupid video.
- What did you do ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.
He seemed pretty sure of himself, proud even, and you tried hard not to show it, but you were still a bit doubtful.
- Check Instagram, he simply said as he handed you your phone.
You nervously checked your account. You were tagged in thousands of new posts. Only these weren’t posts of the sex videos. Your account was flooded with pictures of your wedding, posted by your friends and reposted by tons of fan accounts. Your closest influencer friends had posted the beautiful pictures of them with you at the wedding. Marshall’s friends had done the same : 50, Dre, Porter, Royce… everyone was posting about your nuptials. The most beautiful shot was the one shared by Marshall on his account : a gorgeous black and white shot of the two of you after the reception, holding hands and staring at the fireworks, captioned : « For better & for worse. Happy 6 months anniversary. ». Everyone was going absolutely crazy in the comments, not failing to show their surprise and mentioning that he was now following one account : yours. You looked at him, almost crying and took him in your arms.
- Oh my God, you said. I can’t believe you did this.
- Called in a few favors and asked our friends to post the wedding pictures, he said with a smile. I figured the Internet would focus on these rather than the videos. So far it seems to be working…
- You didn’t have to, you said emotionally. I know you wanted to keep the wedding a secret.
- I also wanted to keep our sex life secret, he chuckled. But I care more about you and supporting you. Now, everyone knows I have your back. Until death do us part. And if anyone dares come for you, I will end them. I promise.
- I love you, you said emotionally.
- I love you too, he replied before kissing you. I’m sorry I was grumpy about the whole thing. You were right, these vows were never meant to be just words. I want to put them in action.
You kissed him passionately and you both took a minute to enjoy the posts everyone made about your wedding, reminiscing about that special day.
- I’m happy I don’t have to make that stupid apology video, you confessed.
- Me too, he chuckled. I did make an apology though.
- You did ? You asked in surprise.
He showed you his IG story. A black screen with simple text - in true influencer fashion : « I want to take a minute to apologize about the videos that have been leaked. I am sorry if anyone was confused. They were misleading and I want to state that the boxers were actually not Givenchy but Calvin Klein. Sorry for the confusion. 👀». You chortled and kissed him.
- What ? That was the only thing worth an apology, he pointed out with a smile.
- You’re such a troll, you said as you playfully rolled your eyes.
You spent the following days in bliss, showered with love from both your followers and his fans. Everyone was going crazy about your wedding and, even though there were still mentions of the sextape, most of the attention was focused on your relationship. Both of your management teams were also happy to put the incident behind them, though now they had to deal with plenty of interview requests. However, you agreed that even though your secret was out, nothing would really change. You slowly got back to business. Though nothing didn’t really change for Marshall - who was always in hermit mode in the studio - you had a lot of new followers and tons of collaboration requests. The sponsors who had been quick to drop you even came back and attempted to suck up to you, though you absolutely refused to work with them again. You were in your home office, reviewing partnership requests when you came across the biggest offer of your career : none other than Calvin Klein wanted you to be the new face of their underwear campaign, offering you a shit ton of money. It was the biggest opportunity you had ever received but you were a bit nervous when you mentioned it to your husband.
- What do you think ? You asked after you brought it up to him.
- I think we’ve established that you look good in underwear, he grinned.
- Yes but that would be banking on our sextape, our relationship… would it be ok with you ? You asked.
- I’ll cut you a deal : I’m ok with you doing that campaign if you’re ok with me using your moans as ad libs, he said with a smirk.
- You can’t be serious, you giggled as you rolled your eyes.
- What ? He chuckled. We’re partner in life, we might as well be business partners.
#eminem#marshall mathers#slim shady#eminem fanfiction#eminem x reader#eminem fluff#eminem imagine#marshall mathers x reader#marshall mathers imagine#Eminem one shot
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This Meeting Could've Been an E-mail
Sleepy King (Nanenna ver.) Masterpost
---
Diana, along with several other members of the JLD, were sitting in a meeting room. John had stood at the head of the table, having just finished outlining the situation for them, and it was grim. She knew if worse came to worse they may have to sacrifice the boy to keep the Ghost King from emerging into their world and wreaking havoc on a scale only Darkseid had managed before, but she prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
“Would not the boy also smell my father’s blood?” Raven asked.
“Unfortunately. You an’ me are gonna stay back and help plan based on what everyone else reads from the boy.”
Diana nodded along, likely that was also her role.
Bruce, in full Batman gear, came stalking into the room.
“About bloody time,” John said with a huff.
“I would hope you have brought them all up to speed on what you know of Danny while waiting.”
John made an annoyed sound, then moved to sit in a chair near the head of the table. “`Course I did, just waiting on you now.”
Bruce stood in the spot John had just vacated. “Oracle.” The room dimmed and the holo-projector in the table whirred to life. A picture of a small family standing in front of what appeared to be some sort of business run out of what used to be a family home (something fairly common in America, Diana had learned) took center stage. Obviously it was part of a website, Diana could see the web bar with several tabs across the top of the projection, but it was zoomed into the photo.
“This,” Bruce said, pointing to the teenaged boy in the photo from behind, “is Daniel “Danny” Fenton, the boy used in the ritual last night.”
Everyone leaned in closer to look the boy over. There was nothing remarkable about him, a bit thin perhaps but that could be due to the lankiness that comes with growth spurts.
“He’s from Amity Park, Illinois. The town advertises itself as the most haunted city in America, and from what we’ve gathered they earned it. Most pertinent is that last year they were under attack by the Ghost King.”
Oracle must have clicked to the next tab, the family picture was replaced by an online newspaper article titled “Ghost King Thwarted! Is Phantom a Hero?”
“I’m sorry, what happened?” Zatanna asked incredulously.
“There must be some mistake, there’s no way Pariah Dark got free without a single person feeling it,” Dr. Fate insisted.
Oracle scrolled down the page to show several blurry photos taken of a being that looked nothing like what they’d seen last night, alongside a sketch of the being. “Either this was well researched, or somehow this whole event was cloaked,” Bruce said grimly.
“Considering this wasn’t even the most recent attack on the town and a few of them sound like JL level threats,” Oracle’s modulated voice came from the table’s speakers as she quickly tabbed through a few more news articles before coming back to the one on the Ghost King, “I think it’s more likely something is blocking the whole town from us.” She scrolled down more to show several missing or broken photos. “Especially this Phantom person that keeps showing up in every article about ghosts. Even using the way back machine there’s not a single photo of him anywhere on the internet.”
“If the Ghost King has been out,” Captain Marvel asked, “where did he go? I doubt he’s spent the last year just hanging out in a small town in middle America.”
“According to this news article,” Bruce said, “Phantom, along with help from the whole town, managed to get the Ghost King back into the Sarcophagus and sealed him away again.”
John whistled, “That’s quite the feat, even with help.”
“Are you saying Danny was chosen as Pariah’s anchor because he’s from Amity Park?” Raven asked.
“Not just because he’s from Amity Park, his parents are also self proclaimed paranormal scientists and ghost hunters.”
Oracle tabbed to a few different pages, each one with a different picture of one of Danny’s parents proudly holding ominously glowing green weapons or with vials of glowing green goo. Sometimes one in the background of another.
John squinted at the photos, “Is that pure æther?!”
“How?!” Captain Marvel and Zatanna both asked incredulously.
“They call it ectoplasm,” Bruce stated.
John scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Ectoplasm is a word scam artists in the 1800s made up to steal money from grieving widows.”
“Nevertheless that is what they're calling it. Especially of note that the Fentons run their research out of their home.”
“Where their children live?” Diana asked, horrified at the implications.
“How are they still sane?” Captain Marvel asked incredulously.
“We're not sure they are,” Batman said grimly. Oracle tabbed to a street view of the Fenton home, easily identified by the large sign on the side. The strange addition to the home's roof was an… interesting choice.
The other attendees of the meeting were becoming agitated, several of them shifting in place as they got ready to speak.
“Before this goes any further,” Bruce stated firmly, “all this to say the cult that kidnapped Danny Fenton did so with intention. Amity Park certainly needs a full investigation, but it will have to wait until after this crisis with the Ghost King is dealt with.”
“Æther exposure might explain why the kid could handle being Pariah’s anchor.” John sighed then stood up. “Alright, if that’s all the info you got…”
Bruce grunted in acknowledgement.
“The clock’s ticking.” John left the room, the others all following after.
Diana hung back to speak with Bruce. “We’ll find a solution.”
Bruce just hummed to show he heard her. She knew he wasn’t handling the situation well, a child’s life was at stake and he had to hand the situation over to others. There was only so much she could reassure him, so she chose instead to go see the boy for herself.
The JLD members that had attended the meeting were all gathered in a kitchenette discussing logistics. Diana left them to it for the moment and simply went down the hall to the room she knew the boy was sleeping in. The lights in the hallway were already dimmed, thankfully, so she simply quietly opened the door and poked her head inside. Clark was sitting on a chair next to the boy’s bed. His posture was a relaxed sprawl, but his face was furrowed in concentration. He looked up and smiled when he saw Diana.
“How are you?” She asked at barely a whisper, knowing he’d hear her just fine.
“Guilty, now that I know he mistook me for his father.”
“Sadly this is an ask for forgiveness situation.” She gently pat Clark’s arm, trying to console him.
The boy himself looked like any other teenager, dead to the world while tucked safely into bed. She only hoped they would find some solution and tomorrow he would be tucked just as safely into his own bed.
#nenna writes#sleepy king#dc x dp#dpxdc#danny phantom#dc comics#justice league#justice league dark#*slaps the roof of danny* this bad boy can fit so much eepy in him!
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Bro... how would Stanley/Stanford deal with their s/o (y/n) having a stalker? (As someone who has been a victim of stalking, it's terrifying)
They are afraid to go outside to do things such as check the mail, gets harassed online through text/emails, and overall just terrified 24/7, constantly paranoid with the fear of the worst happening to them if they let their guard down :(
Stan will wholeheartedly stay with you, just so he could use Ford’s crossbow because how dare some creepy fuck make you feel unsafe inside and outside the house.
He’ll fist fight them if he must, also he’ll use this as an excuse to teach you kickboxing.
If he ever find out where this stalker lives, best believe that he’ll make sure they’ll be the one scared to come out of their one house by sending letters depicting threats of what he’d do should they step a toe out of their own home, and it’s in excruciating detail.
However if the stalker try to send the letter into the police, the police can’t seem to trace who sent the letter…Stan is too good at what he does it’s almost terrifying but it works out for you as the stalker is scared as shit that someone will set throw a Molotov cocktail at them while getting the mail…or depants them when they least expect it.
‘Don’t you think this is a bit much?’ You asked.
‘Where they’re threatening my baby? Never, I could’ve done way worse for you.’ Stan said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you close to his side as you both snuggled up together while watching television, feeling the safest you ever been in a long while.
Stan then proceeds to run the bastard over in his car ❤️
Ford will probably have some sort of surveillance cameras set up that he would check now and then for any and all abnormal activity regarding your stalker.
He doesn’t take this kindly as Bill had a tendency to watch him closely, so much so to the point that every time he was out in the woods he felts as though he was being watched, surveyed and observed like he was nothing sort of a experiment.
Gives you his crossbow to shot the bastard between the eyes because the was legal right? Well it is in certain dimensions and he’ll be damned if he didn’t give you something to protect yourself with if something bad were to happen.
He doesn’t trust the police, he thinks their incompetent and can’t do their jobs for shit. So he’ll take justice into his own hands by digging up as much dirt as he could on the person by enlisting some help from his most trusted friends.
But most importantly Ford makes sure you’re okay, makes you reassured and doesn’t make you feel shit for feeling like you were being watched, stalked and harassed online by someone who doesn’t know their boundaries. He’s still recovering rom his own experience with a psychopath (bill), and will make sure that you learn to heal and move on together by being a constant and reassuring presence within your life. A positive force that kept you safe and made sure you were okay at the beginning and end of every day.
He wants you to live your life freely, not scared of the outside.
If he sees that your being harassed online, Ford will make sure that the stalkers details are leaked to the public by whatever means necessary along with the creepy tendencies they have been known for but punished far too lightly for by the system that protects these creeps.
(Ford may sick the gnomes on the twat, claiming he had found them the perfect gnome royalty for them and see how they like it.)
#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls imagine#gravity falls imagines#gravity falls#stanford pines x you#stanford pines imagines#stanford pines imagine#stanford pines x reader#ford pines x you#ford pines imagines#ford pines imagine#ford pines x reader#stan pines x you#stanley pines imagines#stanley pines imagine#stan pines imagines#stan pines imagine#stanley pines x reader#stan pines x reader
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[[and then i met you || ch.1]]
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.
a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.
words: 5.6k
You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man.
You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.
The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis.
You want to trust them, but you can't.
The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands.
You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life.
You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name.
You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.
Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner.
That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in.
There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you.
The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours.
It scares you so much it's not your choice.
You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that.
A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information.
She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."
The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter.
It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take?
You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices.
Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.
You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.
Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.
You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.
Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?
Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running.
This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.
You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.
Nelson, Murdock, and Page.
You trace it with your finger.
Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases.
Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering.
But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner?
"All done?"
Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.
"Foggy will be out in just a minute."
Your head jerks up at that.
"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."
You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left.
You turn your head to follow her gaze.
"Matt!" Karen calls out.
A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up.
The cameras don't do him justice.
Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.
But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.
Just like Minnie's.
The realization shakes your entire world.
This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world.
You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer.
You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.
You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.
It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"
"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you."
You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest.
He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"
"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that.
Your throat gets tight again.
You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat.
Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"
You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment.
Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it.
"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office.
This is it.
Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father.
You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office.
This isn't about you or your fears.
This is for Minnie.
You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you.
He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart.
But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain.
He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.
You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him.
"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it.
You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before.
Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.
"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.
Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic.
His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"
Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen.
You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."
He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.
"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party."
The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.
"I think you are the father of my child."
All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up.
You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.
You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.
He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth.
"Are you sure?"
He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.
You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.
"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."
You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.
"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille."
You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe.
Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.
"...her?"
His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.
Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face.
And you know.
You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well.
This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy.
"I have a daughter.."
"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.
"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity.
You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention.
If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger.
"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper.
"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe.
He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up.
"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"
"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."
"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.
"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times.
Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you.
A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"
The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.
"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.
"She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."
You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good.
Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"
"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."
Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"
You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."
"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him.
He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"
Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."
"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."
He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying.
"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there."
You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"
You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes.
"We can go at your pace, Matthew."
He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."
You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."
Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me."
Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan.
"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"
Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea."
You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?"
He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.
"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"
"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting."
You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."
He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?"
"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."
That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"
"Yes."
You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."
The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office.
Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"
The door opens and the final partner for the law firm is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."
Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."
Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.
"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.
You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?"
Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"
You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"
Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right."
"I do, too."
It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie.
You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over.
You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice.
He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.
"Can I ask you something before you go?"
You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."
"Can you tell me what she looks like?"
Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.
"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"
There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.
"Buddy, we gotta go."
You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."
A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him.
"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.
"Thank you."
You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.
"Can I call you tonight?"
"Yes, please."
"Does eight work?"
"That's perfect."
"I'll talk to you then."
You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.
Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man.
You really hope he's a good father too.
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Text
Grindr
Marvel | Starker
They're working in the lab when Tony hears the Grindr chime on his phone. Only, his phone is on silent and Peter is the only other person in the room.
Rating: Explicit
For my H <3
Warnings and tags below
Warnings/tags: embarrassment, light daddy kink, possessiveness, rough sex, face fucking
Tony flinched at the familiar notification chime. He was sure he put his phone on vibrate before Peter came in. Of course Peter probably had no idea what that sound was, but he still jumped up and grabbed his phone. He keyed the volume down only to frown at the device. The volume was already off. He put the phone down and even in his brilliant mind it still took about three seconds to click.
He looked across the lab to see Peter, hard at work. His phone peeked out of the back pocket of his shorts. Tony left his station and crossed the floor.
He swiped the phone out of Peter's pocket to a surprised, "Hey!"
There on the screen was a familiar icon.
"What are you..." Peter said. His face turned a deep red. "Give it back." He snatched the phone back from Tony's hand.
"What's that you got there?" Tony raised his eye brows.
"I'm just working on-"
Tony held up a finger. "Ah," he silenced. "Don't play dumb. The phone."
"You uh... you heard that?"
"I'm not that old, kid. I can hear a noise from a few feet away."
Peter stood frozen, seeming to struggle to find an excuse. Then some sort of revelation crossed his face.
"How do you know what that sound is?" Peter crossed his arms over his chest.
Tony blinked. Somehow he hadn't considered being cross-examined. "Because I am an adult. What are you doing with a hookup app on your phone?"
"I'm also an adult," Peter pointed out.
"You're still a little young for Grindr. You don't have the experience to be hooking up with random men you met on an app."
"How do you know what sort of experience I have?"
"Stop trying to turn this back on me. You should be more careful. Hookups like that can be dangerous. For your life and your health. And what about Spider-Man, huh? You can't be reckless."
Peter pulled out his phone while Tony lectured. He opened the notification to see the suggested profile that had caused all of this. 'TS - Online now - 0 feet away' the screen said. Peter swallowed as he looked at the profile.
"Hey, listen when I'm speaking," Tony said. He snapped his fingers over the top of the phone.
Peter turned his phone around. "I've seen you changing before, but somehow I don't think I've ever seen that much of you."
Tony stared at the image of his own bare chest, arch reactor edited out, jeans unzipped and pulled down almost too far. It only took a second for his mind to process enough for him to know that he needed his phone right now. He ran for it. He heard the sound of a webshooter and dove for the workbench. His hand landed on the phone just in time for Peter to yank it out from under him.
Peter stared at him, mortified, clutching his phone in both hands. "Mr. Stark..."
"Give me that phone." He pointed his finger threateningly.
"I can't." Peter shook his head.
"Why is your filter even set old enough for me to see you?"
"Why is yours set so young?"
"Peter," Tony growled. "Stop hooking up with random New Yokers!"
"Make me!" he shouted back.
All at once, Tony arm wrapped around him and pulled him close. He crushed their mouths together way too rough. Peter moaned much too enthusiastically. It was all too much and they both were greedy. Tony's phone thumped against the ground as it slipped from Peter's hand. He was too busy running his hands over Tony's chest. They kissed until it was too much for them to breathe, but Tony's mouth followed the line of his throat. Peter gasped and tipped his head back. His hands pulled Tony closer.
"We should slow down," Tony panted into his shoulder.
"Can't keep up, old man?" Peter teased.
Tony picked him up and set him down on the workbench. One hand grabbed him by the hair while the other pulled Peter's hips forward. He was off balance with little leverage to do anything about it, but Tony was grinding their hips together while he kissed him again so he wasn't really trying.
Peter's mouth was soft and sweet. Little whines traveled up his throat whenever Tony's tongue met his. It only made him wonder what sort of noises he'd make getting his mouth fucked. He was so easy to manhandle despite his superior strength. Which only meant that he liked being manhandled. He was letting Tony do it, eating it up too judging by the way he obediently stayed right where Tony put him even as he tugged at the roots of his hair and all but fucked him through his jeans.
Just the thought that Peter was out fucking old men his age, he wanted to bite and mark every inch of his skin. Tattoo his name right on his ass. But he had to earn that didn't he? He had to make sure the boy came back to him and forgot that stupid app. He had to have him.
Tony ran his hand up Peter's thigh. He spread his legs pushed his hips toward him nearly falling off the table. Tony chuckled as he moved him back into place.
"Do you need something, Pete?"
"Please," he gasped. His eyes were glazed and his lips swollen. Tony suddenly couldn't bare how tight his jeans were.
"How about you get daddy's cock wet and we'll see you can earn something more."
Peter nodded, already sliding down off the workbench. He dropped to the floor and started on Tony jeans, ripping his belt free and opening up the zipper. He felt fabric tears in his carelessness. With Tony's cock in his hand, he didn't even hesitate. His lips around the head while both hands held him at the base.
"Fuck, kid," Tony swore, forbidden pleasure curled in his stomach. Peter either didn't hear him or didn't care, he was too busy polishing the head of his dick with his tongue.
Tony grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Open," he ordered.
Peter let go of his cock and opened his mouth wide. He looked up at him as Tony pushed his cock deeper into his mouth, finding the back of his throat. Peter moaned as his mouth was filled up. His tongue kept moving around the bottom of his cock as much as it could.
"Fuck," Tony swore again. "That's a good boy. Your mouth feels so good, baby."
Peter hummed happily, still looking up at him. Tony pulled slowly back, then pushed back inside. The way Peter moaned as he fucked his mouth had him teetering on the edge. He pulled him off of his cock and held himself tightly at the base to save himself the embarrassment.
"I want that ass," he said. He picked Peter up and set him back on the table. The boy hurried to get his own pants off. They stripped off his clothes and Peter laid back on the table. He held on to Tony's shirt, pulling him closer. He looked so pretty all desperate for Tony to fuck him, spreading him legs.
Tony ran a hand over his ass. He spread him open and spit, rubbing it into his hole with his thumb.
"Please," Peter moaned.
"Please what, baby?" Tony teased.
"Fuck me, please." Tony pushed his thumb inside and Peter whined like a slut.
"Are you sure? We could call one of your grindr daddy's instead?"
"Please, Tony," Peter begged. He looked gone, wrecked, like he could barely understand what Tony was saying.
He replaced his thumb with the head of his cock, pushing in, making them both moan. Peter grabbed his shoulders, whining desperately.
"That's my good boy," Tony breathed. "Take daddy's cock."
"Yes," Peter gasped. "Please daddy." He whispered as Tony gave him more, burying himself in Peter's little ass, trying desperately not to cum too soon but the boy was too pretty to hold out.
"You gonna be mine, Peter? Gonna let me fuck you whenever I call?"
"Yes, please please." His head fell back against the table and his hand wrapped around his cock. He stroked himself furiously, on the edge and drunk on Tony's cock.
"That's a good boy," Tony purred. "Gonna cum for me?"
"Yes-" Peter panted. "I'm- gonna cum-"
"Look at me," Tony ordered. Peter lifted his head. Their eyes met and a whining moan broke from his swollen lips. He came, splattering cum across his belly, his chest, a few drops landing on his own cheek.
"Fuck, Peter," Tony moaned. He squeezed hips, fucking into him deeper and finally letting go, letting himself cum in his ass.
Tony bent down. He ran his tongue up his belly, cleaning up the cum on his skin. Peter laughed and Tony smiled. He leaned down to kiss him. Peter's hands held the back of his head, holding him close. His knees squeezed Tony's hips.
Tony looked at him, face warm and pink, eyes wide, lashes wet. Peter bit his lip.
"You should uninstall that app..." Tony said innocently.
Peter gave him a smile that was all mischief. "You'll have to make sure I don't need it."
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