#sometimes people send me asks that are not a clear question

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[roturo]

⋆.˚⭒⋆.˚ WATCH IT!

Gojo Satoru didn't predicted this move... So he ended up fucking you lol ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ G!Satoru x afab!reader and sex pollen!

tags: smut, sex pollen, unprocteted sex (wrap it and pee after sex), overstimulation (like A LOT), use of nicknames (princess, baby, good boy, love...) multiple rounds, praise kink, angst if you squint your eyes till you cry like gojo, sub(ish)!gojo satoru, god complex, fluff if you take one eye out, crack, belly bulgde, creampie, breeding kink, crempie kink, A LOT of cum, dumbfication, cock warming, npr.

A/N: happy holidays! might be my last writing of the year so i wish you lots of love and happiness <3 i might write pt2 for this one and 'she's back', which one would you like first?

o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

DAY 1: HOW IT STARTED

How the fuck at his grown ass age Gojo Satoru could be this stupid. And that’s big coming from him, because this man considers himself the senior of seniors and god of gods. So, how come he falled into this?

And you know what? Maybe it is his fault! For believing he’s a superior and underestimating such a weak and useless curse he just killed. But, this weak and useless curse has him going crazy. That really was karma paying back to him because motherfucker- Why is he feeling all giddy and hot all of sudden? This has never happened to him before, so that’s why he’s losing his mind right now and almost sprinting into his room because of how bothered he was feeling to just teleport. 

Everything was like hell. Really, like hot as hell. And how does Satoru know that? Uh well, because he’s living it right now.

He couldn’t bear the sensation anymore and dialogue Shoko’s number like it was a habit.

“What do you want, Gojo? I’m in the middle of trying to know how Yuuji’s body is capable of being Sukuna’s vessel. Like- It’s quite important right now, and more than debating about some of your dumb tv shows you-”

Shoko’s voice was interrupted by a whine coming from Gojo’s line, seconds of silence continued the awkward moment between the both of them, while all Gojo could do was breathe and maintain his whines inside of his body before he started literally moaning.

“Are you okay, Gojo?...”

“Fuck, no. Some fucking curse sprayed me all over with some fucking stinky pollen. Didn’t even taste great, by the way. And now I'm just feeling really hot, sometimes dizzy… or kinda giddy? fuck. And my breathing became irregular. I’m fucking sprawled out in my bed trying to find a comfy position but my legs won’t cooperate.”

A loud laugh was heard coming from Shoko’s line. It was clear she’s been holding it all this time just trying to make sure she’s gettin it right.. and well. 

“Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you hard right now?”

Silence. 

“You know what? I’m sending Y/N over there with some medicine. You’ve been sprayed with sex pollen by the way.”

Sex- what?! 

Before he couldn’t even ask Shoko any question since she quickly hung up. Leaving a needy and confused (and hard) Gojo.

Knock. Knock. 

No answer, but a weird sounding moan? You gave yourself permission to enter Gojo’s room since no life signals were heard. But- holy fuck. Was this a reward or a punishment from the gods?

He was kneeled down on his bed, one of his hands used as a support placed in his bare calf while his other hand was as fast as possible jerking himself off. You stayed still some seconds before rewinding back to what Shoko told you before coming here.

“He might be another type… of… Gojo?... Anyways. He’ll be really needy and like a lost puppy looking for some salvation. I gave you this backpack with all you would need, yeah? Thank me later and good luck.”

So that’s why her flat ass was quickly sending you off with a backpack full of water bottles and snacks. Sex fucking pollen. Great.

It’s not like people don’t know that both of you have been crushing into each other lately, hell- even his newest student asked about this. But you never expected for it to be like this.

“G-Gojo…?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but it’s like a hawk located his next prey because of how instant his reaction was just for your voice. A drunk smile on his face, while both of his hands fall infront of him trying to hide the act that was going on minutes ago. His sculptured white as snow body covered in a hot layer of sweat. Not being able to catch a breath thanks to this sight, somehow he’s in front of you. 

“Are you here to help me? Y/N?”

His voice sounded so different. But at the same time it was just Gojo.

A small nod was all the reaction he got. You could smell that sweaty smell, looking down you found yourself looking at a large wet spot staining his black briefs. While his cock does nothing to imagination, marking perfectly the shape of it. Moving your gaze to his v-line, a white happy trail proudly adorning it. Eyes moving up, you found yourself looking at his clearly erected nipples, But all this examination was over once he interrupted your thoughts.

“I need a verbal affirmation, princess”

Ah, the nicknames. If you weren’t wet by now, you’re pretty sure you’re leaking right now all because of him.

“Yes Satoru, I’ll help you.”

His knees felt weak. Literally. He kneeled down in front of you, it was like he hypnotized and somehow could smell through your body into emotions. His hands were cold but hot at the same time he roamed your body.

You tried warning him by calling his name while he started kissing the softness of your thighs, telling him to at least move you towards the bed. And his body was doing what you said like if you were controlling him, while his mind was somewhere else. He moved the both of you towards his bed, making you lie down. His head not wasting any second between your thighs until his nose touched where you needed him the most and you whimpered at the feeling. Clearly triggering a new kind of need inside Gojo.

Everything happened really fast. Between some kisses and moaning, Gojo ripped your shorts and pantoes a muffled noise coming out from him of what you suppose was “I’ll buy you new ones later” but right now you couldn’t care less.

Not when his tongue slowly started tracing the way from your entrance until it reached your core. Teasing it with kitten licks, while his hands remained on your hips from preventing moving them.

His tongue quickly found a rhythm between your entrance and your clit, forming infinite signs between them. And the simulation was too much you couldn’t notify Gojo about your orgasm- But he was so lost in the feeling of your thighs suffocating him and the taste of yourself in his lips, he swears he could die as a happy man right now.

And like it wasn’t enough, Gojo kept eating you out even after your intense orgasm. Overstimulation taking over your body, trying to take him off your core, ended up with annoyed groans coming out from him.

“Satoru, love, fuck. I need you to stop, please.”

The nickname had him exploding with happiness, he really looked like a puppy from this angle. His eyes looked ethereal, his mouth covered with your fluids and his face was with a cute smile while he called out your name.

“Will you please let me fuck you?”

A small giggle came out from your mouth, Gojo’s face looked a little sad and embarrassed, but was quickly erased when you pecked his lips. And that was all he needed to clumsily take off his briefs and while he climbed back to the bed, taking off your top while doing so. His eyes were full of adoration looking over your body, before he pressed his lips into yours, locking them for a long moment, clearly enjoying the moment, before the kiss turned more heated and he started kissing every part of your body again.

His tip was now wet thanks to your folds, Easily slipping through it. 

“Ffuck- Ssatoru- Be a good boy and put it in, please?”

Gojo needed no more words before thrusting his cock whole into you with one swift movement, hitting perfectly against that spongy spot that made you see stars. But something didn’t feel right. Not in a bad way. Since you re-opened your eyes to find a glassy eyed Satoru mumbling a lot of ´sorry’s´ while he kept thrusting.

Oh.

He came with just one thrust and was overstimulating himself, still rock hard with no break while he hid his face in the crook of your neck while marking it as his and tearing down from the pleasure. 

You’re pretty sure he came again, when he whimpered your name and moaned against your ear but still continued thrusting into you perfectly. And he was so lost in the pleasure of overstimulating himself he didn’t realize once he confessed to you.

“You’re so pretty- ffuck– I really want to make you mine now. So no one could look at you, not even in a friendly way. Just… have you all for me- sshit. I love you.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, thinking it was all because of the moment, so you just had to enjoy it for now. His thrusts were so  fast and hard, but somehow still felt romantic. Like this was a normal routine on a daily basis. And you would be disgusted by the pool of cum forming under the both of you if you weren’t so close to your third orgasm this night. No matter how many times you told Gojo to stop for a moment and take a break, he would cum again, and still be hard so he had to keep thrusting.

Your mind is lost now. All you could ever think about right now was Gojo Satoru and his immense cock. He wouldn’t stop mumbling praises to you, saying this was all for you to feel good and he would stop once you cum at least 3 times more than him. A hard dare to get over with. Or maybe it already happened?

You begged for mercy, not thinking he could get another orgasm out of you. Hell- to even get an orgasm out of him. His hands interweld into yours, and moved it down towards your tummy.

“Do you feel it, baby? I'm right here. Ahh~ I’m pretty sure my cum is there too heh. Your tummy is full of me and my cum.”

He sounded drunk. Like. Really drunk. But his words took off your last orgasm of the night, apparently your reaction making his trigger off and cum… dry?

How many fucking times did Gojo Satoru came inside you?

Will pills even prevent a pregnancy?

“Ah- shit baby.”

You couldn’t pay attention to him anymore, quickly slipping into dreamland. Gojo not once leaves your side. Literally. He was cock-warming, still hard, but no energy (and cum) to continue his misery.

You were here at 7.45 o’clock, one last look at the clock and it was 3.23 in the morning.

And it was like you just blinked, because a whimper came out of your mouth. Looking again into the clock, it was 10 AM, and Gojo was not over.

[frownyalfred]

Hi, what is a polite way to ask authors if they will be updating? Or questions that could be taken as you the reader being negative or criticizing

Here’s my hot take on this — they’re either updating or the story is abandoned, right? There’s only two options at the end of the day. Maybe three, if you count plans to update. So what we’re really saying, as readers, when we ask that question, is I’m excited for this story and I’m worried I won’t see more from it soon. Right?

Getting the “is this fic abandoned?” question on a WIP I haven’t updated in a bit stings for some reason. There’s a lot of reasons why that fic might have stalled! Instead of it feeling encouraging, it can sometimes just feel like a reminder of failure, at least to me. Like oh god, I felt terrible about this writers block and now other people are noticing too.

My advice is, if you truly want to see an author update — talk to them about their fic. Send praise, send commentary, but most importantly, send questions! Ask them why they made certain choices. Ask them the inspiration behind a certain scene or event. Get their brain clicking back into that writing mode! I can’t count how many times a good ask on here has reminded me that I love that WIP and want to continue it.

I would not send negative or criticizing questions to authors unless they’ve made it explicitly clear that they are open to receiving it. If the question can be rephrased into something more neutral like “you did X — I didn’t quite understand that. could you explain why?” that works, in my mind.

[kafka-ish]

I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

[yoon-kooks]

seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay. 

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.” 

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in. 

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot. 

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top. 

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette. 

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

[bbydoll18xx]

Pet Names and Airplanes (Part 3)

Paige Bueckers x reader

It’s Paige’s turn to call the shots.

Themes: smut!! dom!Paige, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: IT FINALLY LET ME POST HALLELUJAH!! You sweetie pies asked for a part 3 and here it is! And to whoever was the original anon who sent me the idea for Pet Names and Airplanes, i love u

~

Seattle had crushed Indiana, although that was pretty much a given. What you hadn’t expected, though, was Paige’s attitude after the game. The whole time, her hand was placed possessively on your thigh, fingers only leaving the soft flesh to be thrown in the air in a joyous celebration of Seattle scoring. And you certainly delighted in the way Paige kept sneaking peeks at one of the hickeys she had left at the base of your throat, threatening to expose the sheer naughtiness that had gone down yesterday. And this morning. 

The relationship between the two of you had changed dramatically in the last 48 hours, leaving you with an undeniable giddiness that bubbled in your chest. And now here you were, talking to Nika on the sidelines of the basketball court, feeling the blonde’s eyes on you, the heat of them radiating off of you in a way that had you shivering. 

Your arm was wrapped around Nika’s waist in a friendly hold; you had missed the Croatian girl, but Paige’s body language suggested that if you didn’t back away, you’d be in deep shit. Her eyes narrowed as you scooched in closer, meeting her gaze with a smug look that said ‘Whatcha going to do about it?’ 

It was not long before she was pulled away by yet another throng of young, adoring fans. She posed for pictures and signed basketballs and shirts, a fond smile adorning your face as you watched, thinking that if anyone deserved all of this, it was Paige.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by Nika who was elbowing you in the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

“When are you gonna tell her that you love her?” She questions smugly, and your mouth falls open in shock.

You splutter, not even remotely able to form a coherent sentence for a second. She was able to read you like a damn book, and you felt momentarily embarrassed to think that you were that transparent. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve, but you longed to be one of those girls that were just effortlessly cool and almost mysterious. You hated how people could see what you were feeling just by looking at your face, and while you knew your emotional disposition made you who you were, sometimes it felt like it was your personal downfall.

The blaze of your cheeks add fuel to the fire, and Nika giggles as you hide your face in your hands. You sigh defeatedly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s Paige,” she soothes. “You guys have always had something more than just a friendship. It’ll work out.” She pulls you into another hug, just as Paige walks back over to the two of you. She clears her throat loudly, and you and Nika separate, meeting her eye with your cheeks still flushed from Nika’s observation. 

“Ready to head back to the hotel, princess?” Paige asks you, her blue eyes staring into yours, and she wraps an arm around your waist possessively, drawing you into her and away from her old teammate. 

You smirk at her blatant jealousy, mentally high-fiving yourself that at least she also lacked subtlety when it came to you.

“I don’t know, P,” you trail. “Maybe we should hang out with Nika some more.” You wet your lips as you look up at the Croatian girl, who is looking between you and Paige with a confused look on her face.

“I want you. All to myself,” she responds bluntly, sending a wave of butterflies soaring through your belly and straight down to your pussy.

Paige sends a glare in Nika’s direction, and a flash of realization dawns on the brunette, her face morphing into a look of pure revulsion.

“Hell no, you two better not be getting me in the middle of whatever this is” Nika scolded, her accent coming out, mixing with the disgust in her voice. She was smart, and she clearly saw your attempts to make Paige jealous.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow. Just go fuck each other like I know you want to,” she says crudely, holding back a laugh. “But thanks for coming. I love you both,” Nika beams, waving and walking towards the Seattle locker rooms. 

“Finally,” Paige mutters, interlocking your fingers with hers and pulling you towards the exit.

The uber back to the hotel was eventful, and if Paige’s possessive grip on your thigh during the game didn’t have you completely dripping, the open-mouth kisses she had been pressing to your neck and jaw certainly did.

It was difficult to hold back your moans in front of the uber driver who was already eying you and Paige suspiciously, and you let out a sigh of relief as he pulled in front of your hotel. Racing through the hall and opening up the door, you rush in, Paige hot on your tail. 

“Finally got you all to myself,” Paige murmured, looking down at you through lustful, hooded eyes. Her voice was deep and husky, dripping with want, and it reignited the swarm of butterflies in your belly. 

“About damn time,” you respond flirtily, before connecting your lips with hers with a moan. Her lips taste like the cherry slushy she had drank at the game, and the smoothness of them has you pressing up into her, desperate for more. 

Paige opens her mouth for you, intertwining her tongue with yours before suddenly pulling away. You chase her lips with a pout on your own, confused as to why she was stopping. You look up at her with fake indignance, and she gazes at you with a sadistic glint in her eyes. 

“Strip and get on the bed.” 

Her tone is firm, and the dominance oozing from her words makes every nerve in your body light up, temporarily putting you in a daze. You bite your bottom lip in a bruising tug, looking up at Paige with wide eyes. 

“Now.” 

The forcefulness of it sends jolts through your most intimate area, and you pull your top over your head, throwing it onto the floor haphazardly, your jeans following shortly after. You are left standing in a black bra and matching panties, and Paige has moved to sit in the chair, legs spread wide. 

“I want you completely naked, baby. Don’t get shy with me. Want to see those pretty little marks on your tits,” she drawls, and her voice alone has you nearly panting with lust. There was something so naughty about her watching you strip, and your body erupts in goosebumps in anticipation. 

Your bra comes off first. The cool air of the hotel room hits your nipples, perking them up in a way that makes Paige run her tongue across her bottom lip, soothing it from the incessant biting. Your panties soon follow, and your body flushes as you notice the stickiness of your inner thighs from your own slick. 

You climb onto the plush bed, ass sticking up in the air, wiggling provocatively in order to get a rise out of the watchful blonde. Settling against the mountain of pillows with your legs slightly spread, you stare back at Paige, trying desperately to avoid covering yourself up. Her gaze is burning into your skin like tiny pinpricks of lustful want, and you squirm at the lack of stimulation. 

You knew you looked needy, but Paige loved it, reveling in the mild humiliation of you being spread out for her viewing pleasure.

Not wanting to back down just quite yet, you hold her eye contact until she stands, sauntering over to the end of the bed. Her gaze lowers slowly, starting at the base of your throat where the myriad of hickies begin, trailing down to your tits and across your stomach, landing on your glistening center. 

A shiver runs down your spine, tightening your nipples even more, and you lick your lips in anticipation of what’s to come. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me, princess?” She asks, arms crossed and biceps bulging. 

A slight whine leaves your throat. “Yes, always good for you,” you promise.

However, Paige looks unconvinced, a wry smile plastered on her gorgeous features. “You weren’t being very good after the game. Hanging all over Nika like a little slut.”

Your heart pounds at her degrading words, and you try to come up with a decent excuse. “I-” 

She cuts you off with a wave of the hand and a scoff. “Save it. You think you’re a good girl? Prove it.”

Before you can even ask how to prove it, Paige is stripping and laying on the bed with spread legs. You crawl over to her, wanting to do everything possible to please her, but she stops you before you can attach your mouth to her sopping center.

“If you want to taste me, you gotta beg,” she claims smugly, and you flush at her words. Just yesterday, you had the upper hand, and now here you were, about to beg to eat her out. 

“P…” you trail off, but she was devilishly unrelenting. A wide smirk adorns her face as she spreads her legs a bit more, beckoning you closer towards her slick warmth. 

Realizing that you were in fact going to have to beg, you decide to give in, losing the battle between your pride and your sanity. 

“Please, Paigey…” you whimper, lips in a prominent pout. “I’ll do anything for you. Just let me have a taste.”

Paige pretends to think about it for a second, mockingly tapping her chin. “I suppose a little taste won’t hurt,” she relents, and before she can go back on her words, you dive in like a woman starved. 

A long moan is pulled from the depths of her throat as you lick a long stripe across her pussy, and you welcome the taste. She was obviously just as turned on as you. The sheer depravity of the situation hits you, and you reach down in between your legs to take care of the burning ache. Two small circles against your clit is all you manage to make before Paige is leaning down to swat your hand away with a dissatisfied tut. 

“Nuh uh. Don’t be touching your pretty, little pussy.” 

Your cheeks burn, but she quickly grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and guides your head back down. And that’s all the encouragement you need. Soon enough she’s a moaning mess under you, coming undone with your name on her lips, and you’re licking your own, as if she was the most delicious meal you’ve ever had.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans. “Such a good girl for me.”

And before you can preen at her praises, she is on top of you. Hot, open mouth kisses are being pressed up and down your neck, alternating between sharp bites and soothing licks, adding to the purple marks. Paige trails her fingers up and down your sides before squeezing at your hips, melding the flesh experimentally. 

“Need more,” you pant out, and she hums against your skin, the vibrations shooting through you add to the overwhelmingness of everything. She is descending down your body now, your belly and hips peppered with kisses, all the way down to your inner thighs. She purposely ignores your aching pussy, and your hips fly up to try and meet the softness of her lips, desperate to feel some stimulation.

“Fuck, P, don’t make me beg again,” you whine, and Paige gives you another wide smirk from between your legs. 

She blows cool air across the heat of your dripping pussy, and mutters, “But it’s so sexy when you beg for me, baby.” 

“Paige, please,” you whimper, drawing out the syllables of her name, and finally she acquiesces. A long string of expletives leave your parted lips as she plunges two fingers into you and swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. Paige’s fingers were magic, pumping unabatedly into you and curling expertly against the ridges of your g-spot. 

You bring a hand up to pull roughly at your nipple, causing Paige to let out a low groan at the sight of you playing with your tits, and the vibration shoots straight through your core. If you hadn’t been so comfortable around Paige, you would almost feel embarrassed about how fast you were coming undone. 

This was some teenage boy shit. 

Your moans grow louder and louder as she adds a third finger, the stretch feeling like nothing from the amount of juices slicking the entrance of your pussy and sliding down your inner thighs. She continues to curve her fingers up to that sweet spot, causing you to see stars, and eats you out with unwavering persistence.

“G-gonna cum,” you moan, and before Paige can respond, you are gushing around her fingers with a high-pitched whine and her name on your lips. She slows down her movements, allowing you to ride out your high, before removing her fingers from you and licking them seductively. 

Fuck she was so hot. 

Paige watches your chest rise and fall while you try to catch your breath, strung out from how good she just fucked you. She thinks that you had never looked so beautiful, skin glowing from the lamp of the hotel and the sheen of your sweat adding to the radiance. You’re looking back at her in sheer adoration, wondering how you got so lucky to be in this predicament. 

“God, that just keeps getting better every time,” you giggle once you catch your breath, and Paige chuckles, nodding in agreement. She heads to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean you up, and once she does, she pulls you under the covers, and you think that life could not possibly get better. 

The two of you bask in the glow of orgasms and an overall fondness for one another, both silently musing over how much your relationship had changed in the last few days. As if Paige was reading your thoughts, you hear her whisper, “I don’t think I can go back to just being friends with you.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I was thinkin’ the same thing,” you mumble, grateful that you could forego the awkward ‘what are we’ conversation. “I don’t think we were ever really just friends,” you add, you cheeks pink as you recall all the flirty moments that had occurred between you and the blonde.

“True,” Paige says, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, glad we figured that out.” She pulls you in for another kiss, this time sweet and innocent, without the fire that sex tends to follow. It was all you really needed. Paige was all you really needed. 

And when you sit down in your seat on the airplane the following day, you smile as the memories replay in your mind. Love was forged from nothing but a friendship reformed due to a silly little plane ride and a silly little pet name. 

~

woohoo! let me know what you think!! xoxo

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

“So how did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Y’know, how did you know.”

“Dingus, I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me here, the Russians did a number on how many of my braincells are actually working.”

“How did you know that you liked girls?”

Robin Buckley immediately pushed herself up so she was resting on her elbows, head tilted to catch Steve Harrington’s eyes in the low light of their hospital room.

They weren’t originally even going to go to the hospital, if Robin was being honest. They had just wanted to slip away back to their respective homes, but then Melissa and Richard Buckley caught wind that Robin was hurt. Then the both of them realized that Steve’s parents (if Robin has to use that term to describe them) had less than zero intention of sending anyone to pick up Steve.

Then EMS made the light suggestion of both of them probably needing to go to Hawkins General Hospital… and well, while Melissa and Richard did tend to lead toward more natural remedies… one couldn’t fix a concussion or a drugging with an unknown substance with essential oils and hope.

“Robbie? Did you OD over there?” Steve had himself up on his elbows, easily mimicking Robin. That’s the thing that makes the inside of Robin ache, that he’s so like her. She knows that she’s an only child, knows that, but sometimes Steve’ll just… do something and it makes her question it. Makes her wonder how she spent so long without him, without another brain and two legs and arms and so much hair. “Robbie?”

“No, I am still alive.” Robin slowly spoke, before she let out a soft sigh. “Why do you ask?”

“Like-” Steve huffed as he shook his head from side to side, before he used the one hand that was free from the pulse monitor and saline drip to card through his hair. It’s sleep ruffled, and if he uses product (Robin is sure he does), it’s for sure gone. Steve looks up though, and his eyes are so earnest that it causes something to hurt inside of Robin. “never mind just ignore- fuck - just ignore me.”

“I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, you idiot.” Robin let out a huff, and she winced as the PICC line in her arm shifted as tilted to be able to fully face Steve on her side. “But I just, dingus, this is out of left field for even you.”

“How so?”

“Did you even know that, that people like me even existed until a couple of hours ago?” Robin kept her voice soft, especially as Steve huffed out an indignant sounding sigh. Robin sighs though, and then she cards her own hand through her hair, and forges onward. “I think I’ve just… always known.”

“Always?”

“Yeah like-” Robin shrugged, a careful movement of her shoulders. “When I was like, eight? My uh, parents sent me to this camp thing- like summer camp kind of like what Dustin went to? But with, y’know, with the swimming and archery and dude I was fucking awful at it.” Steve let out a soft and watery laugh at Robin’s rambling, and that gave Robin enough power to continue. “But we uh, had these like songs we had to learn? And there was this uh, girl counselor there that had to teach me because you know, that was her job.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and uh. She couldn’t have been older than I am now but man…” Robin let out a slow whistle, and allowed herself to fully melt into the hospital cot she’s laid up on. “All I could think was that I just wanted to be with her. Like not even kissing because I thought kissing was gross then, still do now kinda but anyway- I wanted to like, hold her hand and shit. Do the cheesy stuff I’d seen in the movies, y’know?”

Steve huffed out his own laugh, and he tilted his head to lean against his pillows instead of facing Robin. Robin watched though, quiet for once, as Steve swallowed once and then twice- before he cleared his throat.

“I knew it existed before you.”

“What?”

“It.”

“Dingus-”

“Girls liking girls.” Steve’s voice is barely above a whisper, even as Robin can hear him gulp in a lungful of air. “And boys liking boys.”

“You did?” Robin kept her voice quiet, gentle, as coaxing as she could- especially when she could see Steve’s throat bob. “Dingus?”

“I…” Steve doesn’t continue, and that’s enough.

Enough to Robin that she pushed herself up, and ignored the pain that ricocheted down her spine like needles. Ignored Steve’s hurried ‘what are-’, as she stumbled out of her hospital bed and right to Steve’s. She made sure to drag her IV pole and the monitor with her, situating it as best as she could next to Steve’s. Robin huffed quietly as the pain trickled down her spine, and she couldn’t help but smile as Steve curled his hand carefully around her wrist and tugged.

Robin got comfortable, let Steve fret over her as best as he could, his fingers only ever-so slightly trembling as he made sure that the line in her arm wasn’t kinked up. They were pressed close, side to side and hip to hip, and Robin tilted her head down until it was rested on Steve’s shoulder.

“Wanna keep going, Stevie?”

“No.”

“But?”

“I…” Steve huffed again, a small indignant noise that Robin mimicked.

They sat like that then, just the two of them for a moment, before Steve continued slowly.

“I’ve never, told anyone this- like I’ve told Tommy H. so much shit about me - but this is… Robin this is different.” Steve speaks in a hurried and stilted way, like he’s stringing together bits and pieces of sentences, and it shouldn’t work.

But it does because he’s Steve and she’s Robin.

And truthfully, Robin likes that. That they’re Steve and Robin. SteveandRobin. RobinandSteve. Likes that the two of them are so in tune that even her own mother didn’t want to separate them.

That had to mean something in the end, didn’t it?

“Tell me, whatever… whenever.” Robin murmured as she turned her head so she could press a soft kiss to Steve’s shoulder. The hospital gown is thin enough she can feel the heat of his skin from up under it, and that’s grounding. Grounding even as Steve drew in a shaky breath, audibly swallowing again. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

“I didn’t uh, notice Tammy in Ms. Click’s class or uh, you for a reason.” Steve slowly spoke, eyes wet, and Robin can hear his sniffle as he tried to reign his emotions back. “Ms. Click made him sit uh, right by her desk at the front of the room.”

And oh.

Oh.

If that doesn’t immediately settle something that just usually writhes around in Robin’s chest.

“Him?” Robin is gentle, gentler than she thinks she’s ever been.

“Uh, yeah… Eddie Munson?” Steve huffed out an almost dry laugh, the only thing that he does that ever remotely reminds her of his time as his high school “King Steve” persona. “He uh, got this bat tattoo right before that year’s Thanksgiving break and all I could do was just… gawk at him.”

“And then what?” Robin knew she was pushing, searching for information, but she can’t help it. Not when Steve is right next to her, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. Not when he’s like her. In all the ways that matter.

“I went home and screamed into my pillow.”

Robin immediately smacked Steve’s thigh with the knuckles of her left hand- grinning in triumph when Steve let out a squawk of laughter.

“Eddie Munson?”

“What about him?”

“He’s… he’s a total dud!”

“No he’s not!”

“He stepped in my mashed potatoes once! That is totally total dud material!”

“No way!”

“He wants to be like, like a metal singer!”

“He has a band! Dreams!”

“Do you even know if he can hold a tune?”

“Well, no-”

“Total. Dud.”

Robin grinned wide as Steve launched into a very quick defense about Eddie, and she decides then and there that Steve and her? They’ll be just fine.

Especially if she can get Eddie to come into Steve and her’s orbit just a bit, to see if the crush is still there.

Because while Robin may not have all of the gay knowledge in the world, there is one thing for a complete certainty that she knows.

The black hanky that Eddie kept in his pocket?

Well…

Robin chuffed to herself, before she tilted so she could lay on her side- nose tucked into the place where Steve’s neck and shoulder met.

Right before she falls asleep though, Robin does a very important thing on a mental whiteboard.

You Rule: 1

You Suck: 0

hope you all enjoyed! truthfully think this is one of my favorite things i have written. love platonic stobin. <3

[fairuzfan]

I have concern that I may still be technically zionist despite claiming to be pro-palestine. This is because I knew very little about Palestine when October 7th happened, so in the time since I have been reluctant to have a stance on a two-state or one-Palestinian-state solution. I know now that almost all of Isreal is stolen land and recognize Isreal only exists due to colonialism, it took me a long time to learn that but I know it now. Before I knew that, I knew that regardless of the prior history that in current day Palestine is being subjected to a genocide. However, I struggle with politics and therefore struggle with understanding how a one-Palestinian-state could be achieved and have concern about what would happen to any genuinely innocent people who live in Isreal. To be clear, Isreal as a whole is guilty and I just have concern about what will happen to the portion of people in Isreal who are just as horrified as the rest of the world at what their government is doing. I do not personally know any Palestinians, so I have not known who to talk to about this especially since I do not want to overstep in any way. Theres more context I could provide but I wont because this is roughly the gist of where I am currently at when it comes to my concerns about whether or not I am still zionist. Do you have any reccomendations as to what I can do about my concerns? I am not sure whether or not I am overstepping right now by asking you this, but I do not know any other Palestians on a personal level that I can go to.

hey thanks for sending this in. i think we all have zionist biases that we have to unlearn, even i catch myself falling for it sometimes. so it's not necessarily a moral failing if you're trying to undo the zionism you've been taught. thanks for trying to undo it!

i do want to correct you a bit thought, in that *all* of israel is stolen land because israel is a settler colonial society. until it is relabeled as "Palestine" it can't not be stolen land.

I guess my advice is that you read scholarship and perspectives on palestinian thought and heritage. i can't tell you what a free palestine will look like but i can tell you what i imagine it to be. but what i can tell you is that the state of israel is fully intent on erasing all traces of palestinian life no matter what.

i guess i can tell you why "two state solutions" don't really work because there is no.... prevention of settlement building in the west bank and they'll never really promote *not* settling in the west bank. like i really cannot imagine a world where there aren't settlers on palestinian land no matter the case. and that's even not allowing palestinians the right of return to their homes and expecting them to give up what they dedicated their lives to. many palestinians in the west bank and gaza are themselves refugees because they were displaced in '48. so no matter what, palestinians will always get the short end of the stick and told to "just deal with it."

plus, why are we concerned with the supposed future danger towards israelis when the current, very real danger towards palestinians exists? shouldn't we prioritize actual events over hypothetical ones? why should we concern ourselves with the future when for palestinians its not a guarantee? i have no idea what's going to happen to gaza, for example.... shouldn't we prioritize that gaza lives on today?

i think i would question why you think israelis are inherently in danger in a one state solution? like do you assume that palestinians will all universally commit violence on all israelis? is it because you believe that hamas wants to kill every single israeli jew no matter what? if so, i think that's where your problem lies — in the assumption that peace can only be achieved through segregation just in a lighter form (because the state of israel relies on segregation as a principal of its existence as a jewish state). what about the palestinians who fear living side by side with the same people who raped, tortured, and murdered them for 75 years, or advocated for their deaths? aren't they inherently in more danger?

i mean palestinians have consistently been painted as the villains for more than 75 years. like in every aspect. i think to really truly be antizionist you need to prioritize palestinian concerns and worries over israeli ones because of how.... unwilling much of the world is to even consider them.

approaching zionism from an idea of an inequality structure is also necessary — rather than assuming its a one off system, we examine it as a perpetuation of multiple types of systems of inequality embedded into one. i recommend the institute for the critical study of zionism (click) for more information on this. There's also this book by Ismail Zayid written in the 80's (click) about the longtime violence the ideology of zionism has done to multiple communities, not just palestinians.

Here's a great reading list by palipunk about different aspects of palestinian thought and culture (click). i suggest looking through them to help decolonize our way of thought.

i might add on to this later if i think of something else to say.

[kayesfanfics]

Belmont! Reader with a hint of x Alucard

You and your brother could be a lot alike; brash, sometimes arrogant, cocky, sometimes lazy. You were less sarcastic and rude to other people and usually saved that for banter with him, as Trevor would %1000 start fights with his siblings no matter how old he was, he’s always going to be somewhat of a man child. You were always the more mature one even if you were only a year or two older than him, you often had to save his ass from people or vampires he pissed off. You enjoyed traveling with Sypha as the two of you could gang up on him and give him a taste of his own medicine

After joining Alucard in the mission to kill Dracula, you and your brother led the two to your family’s hold to find proper weapons and information to carry out said mission. You sat in the back of the wagon with Alucard while Sypha sat up front with Trevor, directing the horses and leading the way back to the Belmont estate. Alucard was often watching as the trees passed by, deep in his thoughts as you boredly tapped your foot on the wood of the wagon floor, eventually annoying him enough to send you a glare and make you stop

“So like…how can you be in the sun?”

“I am half human. Some things don’t effect me the way they do full blooded vampires.”

“Do you have to drink blood?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can you have garlic? Or is that just a myth?”

“Is there a point to all these questions?”

“I’m bored.” You shrugged, tired of listening to your brothers and Sypha’s squabbling about directions. Alucard simply raised an eyebrow at you, before continuing to answer any questions you had about his physiology and his father and the castle

Once you all stopped to make camp for the night, you collected firewood with Trevor, who immediately started bugging you

“I heard you two getting quite personal back there.”

“I heard you and Sypha getting quite personal up there.” You repeated, shoving him away from you as the two of your carried firewood back to camp

“I’m just saying, you seemed a bit too curious.”

“And? This is any of your business because?”

“Because I’m your brother! I’m supposed to look out for you!”

“I’m older than you! I can handle myself!”

“So? I’m stronger than you!”

“I’m smarter than you!”

“I’m taller than you!”

“I’m-“

“Are you two bickering again?” Sypha interrupted as you both reached camp. You both froze and cleared your throats awkwardly before setting the wood down for her. She rolled her eyes at the two of you, but mostly towards Trevor as you too rolled your eyes at him, before huffing and sitting next to Alucard, who side eyed you but didn’t say anything

After a couple days you finally reached the Belmont Estate, feeling a pang of nostalgia and grief hit you when you saw it in ruins as you left it all those years ago. You and Trevor led the speaker and the vampire down into the Hold, beginning to search for information to aid you all in battle. You watched Alucard gaze at a display of vampire skulls, including one the size of a child, before searching for books near him

You heard your brother gasp and rush over somewhere, before dragging out a large chest. Your eyes widened and you rushed over, your eyes widening in disbelief when you saw the glorious weapon inside

“The Morningstar…” You both breathed, amazed by the artifact as Trevor gave it a test swing

“It’s mine.”

“No way, I found it!”

“I’m older! It goes to me first!”

“Does not! Go find your own weapon!”

“Are you two fighting over that UGLY thing?” Sypha asked, looking at the weapon in disgust. You gasped dramatically at that, before telling her about how glorious it truly was. You bickered with your brother over it before you finally lost the argument, glaring at him before storming off to find something else to use

“That is quite childish, Belmont.”

You turned and saw Alucard flipping through a book behind you as you opened another chest of smaller weapons. You poured and ignored him, which made him chuckle at your slightly puffed out cheeks and furrowed brows

When night fell, you found a rather uncomfortable place to rest, finding a large cloak that belonged to an ancestor to curl up in next to a small fire in a lamp you made. It felt weird being back home, it was too quiet and still for it to be home, but yet it was. Alucard must’ve noticed the melancholic look on your face, as he brought his stack of books over and sat across from you, reading by the lamp light. You smiled at the gesture and sat with him in the comfortable silence, watching the fire flicker and listening to him flip the old pages of the books

“Alucard?” You finally worked up the courage to gain his attention. He didn’t look up from the pages of the book, but acknowledged you with a response.

“Please, call me Adrian.”

“…Adrian?”

“Y/N?”

“Will you be able to do it? Will you be able to…to kill your father?”

He looked up from the book, but he didn’t look angry or sad. He looked determined and deep in thought like usual, carefully searching for the right words.

“Yes, I will. It needs to be done, and I’m afraid I may be the only one that can do it.”

You looked up at him solemnly, looking into his eyes and seeing a hint of premature regret and sorrow. You could tell this would be harder for him than he was letting on, after all, just because he was a genocidal maniac, Dracula was still a father. You gently took the book from his hands, and he let you, before moving over to sit with him. You offered part of the cloak to him, to which he accepted and sat closer to you.

“I know we don’t know each other very well yet, but we’re all here to help you. I know my idiot brothers been giving you a hard time about it, but I know you can do it. Even if it’s going to be hard.”

He gave you a small smile, before quietly saying, “Thank you, Y/N.” You smiled back before resting your head on his shoulder shamelessly, feeling him stiffen up a bit but slowly relax to your touch as you began to doze off.

“Goodnight, Adrian.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

[cozymoko]

Kamaboko boys reaction to, "I love you."

This includes: Tanjiro Kamado, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Inosuke Hashibira, Genya Shinazugawa

Pairing: All x Gender neutral reader

WARNING(S): none

HASHIRA VERSION KNY MASTERLIST

TANJIRO KAMADO

He smiled kindly, sneaking a peek at you through his dark, thick lashes. A field of unkempt sakura blooms blossomed along his round cheeks, tingeing them a faint pink. BA-THUMP! BA-THUMP! BA-THUMP! His heart cried out. Your words left him uneasy, embarrassed even, as they lightly tickled his chest. Despite his wishes, he could not speak for he was grinning far too wide to do so.

Training that evening proved to be quite the challenge for the young slayer as vivid pictures of you had obscured his mind, slowly but surely eating away at his concentration. Your words rang through his head like a silver bell, loud and persisting, furthering his desire to see you —touch you— He's getting red just thinking about it!

“T…Thank you for loving me. I really don't deserve you sometimes.” He whispered, leaning into your shoulder. “I love you too.” Tanjiro pressed a light kiss to your cheek, using his free hand to gently grip your unoccupied shoulder. A cheery laugh had escaped you at his chastity, nearly sending his heart into another frenzy. And to no one's surprise, you were enjoying every bit of it.

ZENITSU AGATSUMA

Oh my, you've made the poor thing faint. Stumbling over his words much like any other sweet adolescent. His fair skin held a warmth much like the sun, if not putting it to shame. Even with his lack of consciousness, that same lovesick grin had never fled his lips. Oh, and be a dear and close his mouth. We wouldn't want him to swallow any pesky flies, would we?

Upon his return from the land of dreams, Zenitsu was distraught. His body rested against the plush cushions of your futon with you seated by his side. He watches you gently rest a damp cloth on his burning skin, humming a feeble tune to occupy the silence. Zenitsu cleared his throat in hopes of "cooly" responding to your confession, but as you'd expect, he fails miserably.

“I-I love you too!!” He shouted, clasping your hands to his chest. “Wait, no — I love you more than anything!” You gently push him back towards the futon, tucking him beneath the sheets once more before lightly caressing his rosy cheeks. To him, words simply cannot convey his feelings for you. They are far too complex to describe. He's happy and he sure as hell wants you to know that.

INOSUKE HASHIBIRA

“Eh? The hell is that!?” Of course, he's confused, why wouldn't he be? Don't take it to heart, you expected this after all. (growing up in the wild does that to you.) Nonetheless, you can't help but feel a little bit annoyed by his statement. Just how clueless could he possibly be and why did you care about him so much? Two questions that you decided to indulge in another time.

Once you walked away, Insouke was quick to find Tanjiro and ask what this "love" thing was, seeing as you were so reluctant to tell him. At first, he finds it rather silly. Why do people use those words as a term of endearment anyways? He can just show you how much he cares! But with further convincing from Tanjiro, Inosuke shoves his inquiries to the side...for now.

“I ‘luove’ you, or whatever you said, too.” You gave him the most deadpan expression, using that moment to take in the immediate panic dancing across his gentle features. A snort slipped past your lips as you snaked your arms around his perfectly thin waist. At that point, you didn't know what you hated more, his obliviousness or his pretty face.

GENYA SHINAZUGAWA

“What...what'd you say?” He grimaced at the harshness of his tone as it was not his intention. He turned away from you, brushing his nose with the pad of his thumb in sheer hope of masking his embarrassment. But it didn't. You were able to spot the deep red creeping up the back of his neck to the tips of his ears. Scooting a bit closer to him, you rest your head on his back, rendering him stiff. But at that moment, you just didn't care.

Being as ill-mannered as he is, Genya hadn't expected anyone who didn't share the same blood to genuinely care for him. The boy has natural bitch repellent unbeaten in his DNA so surely even you are aware of the reasoning behind his insecurities. But, I suppose that makes him charming in a very questionable sense.

“You aren't too bad yourself...” which roughly translates to “I love you too so please don't take this the wrong way.” Genya needs as much love as he can get, though he refuses to admit it. As his partner you should go with your gut when dealing with him — if you think he needs comfort, a hug, then just do it — because at times, you seek to understand his emotions better than himself.

[werewolf-witchboy]

😇✨ Sugar Daddy Lucifer Morningstar X Gender Neutral Sugar Baby Reader ✨😇

SUMMARY: you're the king of Hell’s favorite influencer and he wants to make it very clear how much he appreciates you and loves your content, thus starting a transactional relationship between the two of you that slowly turns into something more.

WARNING: light stalker stuff going on for a little bit lol ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌ also some sugar baby catching feelings for sugar daddy nonsense

(also- i'm using the terms "sugar daddy" and "sugar baby" pretty loosely, and there are no sexual transactions in this story)

NOTE: I keep going back and forth between saying “livestream” and “video,” so just assume that in the story y/n mainly does livestreams and uploads them as videos later.

•You started out as a humble influencer in Hell.

•What you didn't know is that you happened to be the favorite influencer of THE king of Hell Lucifer himself.

•I personally headcanon that when this man finds something he likes, he REALLY obsesses over it.

•I can imagine him laying in bed with a cozy blanket and a snack, kicking his knees while watching your latest upload.

•Not gonna lie Luci got kinda stalker-ish in order to find you and know you in person.

•He is the king after all, so therefore he has ways to find and keep track of his people.

•It started as him sending you money anonymously as a way to give his appreciation to his favorite content creator.

•You'd sometimes get small donations here and there from different people, but you definitely noticed the big donations you'd consistently get. Even though they were all anonymous, you assumed they were all from the same person because it was usually always an absurd amount of money to donate to an influencer.

•While livestreaming one day you mentioned that you wanted to find out who this anonymous donor was and somehow do something special to thank them.

•Lucifer NEVER misses one of your livestreams and felt extra fanboyish thinking about his fav influencer doing something special specifically for him.

•He knew he couldn't just message you and say “I'm your anonymous donor” because he didn't have a public account. If he were to message with his anonymous account saying that he's the king of Hell you'd obviously think he was lying.

•HERE is where his stalker era starts. 💀

•Luci comes up with this convoluted plan that actually somehow ends up working exactly the way he wanted.

•He happens to “find” you at a place he knew is your favorite café just outside of Cannibal Town.

•He pretends to just be casually walking by (well, as “casual” as the king of Hell can be)

”Oh hey! I've seen a few of your videos, I like your content!”

•You're absolutely baffled that the man in front of you praising your content is Lucifer himself.

•Lucifer invites himself to sit down with you, and how could you possibly refuse.

(He knows using his status to get what he wants is a lil problematic, but he easily pushes any guilt aside cuz he gets to be in your presence. He honestly wonders why he hadn't done this sooner.)

•He uses this opportunity to ask you a bunch of questions he's always wanted to ask, as if this were his personal Q&A with you. You happily answer his questions and even ask your own, eager to get to know Lucifer.

•Eventually he asks the main question that'll set his plan into place.

“Have you ever done any collabs?”

Of course he already knows the answer is no.

•”I've never asked anyone to collaborate with me, I'm a little insecure and automatically think they'll say no.”

•”I'm shocked! I'd personally love to be in one of your videos!” He boasts.

•Even though you've been talking for a while now, your brain still hasn't been fully able to compute that you're not only talking to Lucifer Morningstar, he says he enjoys your content, AND he just said he'd like to be in one of your videos.

•”Wha- I'm sure you've got so much more important things to do!”

•”I've got spare time!”

•When he realized he was probably starting to sound desperate, he backed it up a bit;

“I'm not trying to invite myself into one of your videos, but what I am saying is that IF I were one of those people you were to ask then I'd definitely accept your offer!” He twiddled his fingers nervously under the table, his smile never faltering.

•”oH I mean I do want to ask you- I am asking you!” You become just as nervous as Lucifer, fumbling over your words a bit.

•Before you can say anything else he raises from his seat and extends his hand out in agreement. “Sounds good to me!” You quickly stand to take his hand and shake it.

•The two of you calm down a bit and start discussing times and dates, even though Lucifer knows he's just going to accept whatever day you suggest and cancel any plans that he might already have for that day.

•Lucifer's little plot went perfectly.

•The day came when Luci got to feature in a video with his fav influencer.

•The video blew up super quickly, you gained a whole new wave of fame.

•Not only was he in the video with you, but he also got to spend the whole day with you.

•Somewhere along the way he kind of forgot that he was with his fav influencer and started to feel more like he was just hanging with a friend…which, honestly, he hasn't really had a friend in a long time.

•Also- you had noticed that during the stream with Lucifer you didn't get any donations from your special anonymous donor who never missed any of your previous streams.

•THIS MOMENT is where Lucifer knows he could potentially ruin everything with you, but he wants to be honest.

•He tells you that he's the anonymous donor, and that he can prove it with receipts. He admits that he didn't just casually watch your content like he said previously, and that he's actually a super huge fan. He doesn't go into detail about the stalker-ish extent he went to find you though.

•You take a second to process everything.

•I think if it were any other man you'd probably be a bit weirded out. It's definitely mainly because he's the king of Hell, but also he's just so charming that it's kinda hard for you not to be flattered.

•Now the king of Hell is in your phone contacts and you've got a viral video of the two of you together that shows literally everyone that you know him, it all feels so surreal.

•You still get donations from him on your streams, they still say they're anonymous but you know it's him.

•Lucifer calls you ALL THE TIME, usually to talk about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

•Suddenly he started showing up at your door with random gifts. Usually things that you mention very briefly on social media.

•Like one day you posted a pic on your story of a cute pair of shoes that you'd like to have, and the next day he's on your doorstep with a shoebox in hand.

•This escalated to him taking you out to dinner quite frequently, and he'd always go out of his way to reserve a special private area or even book out the whole restaurant.

•Then he started inviting you to visit him. Movie nights at his place, or he wants to show you something new he made.

•Eventually it turned into you staying the night at his place sometimes. You'd fall asleep during movie night and he didn't wanna wake you, or your home is just so far away and he didn't wanna let you go home in the dark.

•THEN it became you staying at his place for multiple days in a row, and sometimes it felt like you practically lived with him.

•You’d always ask Lucifer what you could do to repay him for all of the stuff he does for you, and he just replies that your company is enough to satisfy him and when you aren't around he still gets to watch your new videos.

•After getting to know the king of Hell over the span of almost a full year, you've come to realize that he was a pretty lonely man before you met him.

•He almost never talks to his own wife, whom you aren't even sure is his wife anymore. He rarely talks to his daughter, and is terrified of not being a good enough dad to her. Most of his time is spent home alone if he isn't tending to somekind of personal royal business.

•You knew Lucifer meant it when he told you that your company is enough to repay him.

•Somewhere down the line, you've started catching yourself contemplating your feelings for him.

•Don't get me wrong, he's always made you swoon and get flustered. It's really hard not to when a handsome man is literally handing you everything you want on a golden platter.

•There are much more raw moments you have with him, when you're just sitting on the couch together and you start to think about your possible future together.

•You usually end up getting slapped with reality when you remember who it is you're looking at. The king of Hell.

•Being in a relationship with a man of such status could never be in the cards for you. You're aware that you're basically just his sugar baby and that's probably all you'll ever be.

•You were definitely fine with the transactional relationship between the two of you, in fact you enjoyed it.

•Now, with these feelings constantly creeping up on you it made everything so much more complicated, and it made it hard for you to be around him knowing you'll never be anything more to him than a sugar baby.

•Lucifer is a sweet man, but you know there's another side of him that's a powerful king. His wife was an equally powerful queen. You're not enough for him, he just wants someone to keep him company.

•What you don't know is that while you're sitting there on the couch next to him having an inner depressive episode, he's got a box in his pocket that he's waiting for the perfect moment to whip out.

•In the box is a flashy custom engagement ring that he wants everyone to be able to see from a mile away.

•That man wants to make you officially his and he has been trying his hardest to make that VERY clear.

•You're just kinda insecure and don't think high enough of yourself. ಥ⌣ಥ

[horus-unofficial]

hello hello welcome welcome. welcome 2 the HORUS guide 4 HORUS tech aka horus-unofficial.tumblr3.un gives you extremely comprehensive and very useful insight into its "pattern groups" and "licenses". we are your host harold HORUS here today to talk to you about our beautiful darling cunt of a child, the LICH

nobody knows how the lich came 2 be. some buddies of ours say they invented it 9989 years from now which is weird bcos anyone normal would wait another decade before sending that shit back in time to hit that sweet 9999 and keep people guessing as to whether these files actually are from that far in the future, or if the lucky terminal receiving this code just stopped bothering to count the years after 15015u. either way, the lich is here now, and back then, and most certainly at some point in the future, and it kinda looks like we probably did invent it so that means we are in the clear to act like we're the ones who made it!

the lich sucks! its terrible! with glass bones and paper skin and a reactor that overheats at room temperature, a gust of wind could leave a dent in this PG's plating, which is made from samples of styrofoam and bubble wrap warped straight from the insides of pre-Fall packages labeled "FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE" (a perfect bumper sticker for your lich, should you find yourself piloting one sometime within the next -50 to 250 years). you can tell no former members of harrison armory's R&D department were involved in the designing of the lich because the only thing those fuckers know how to do is create industrial microwaves, and the lich's reactor is the most slipshod, poorly-coded shit in the known universe. the only code regulating the lich's reactor is "reactor = cool" and not only are neither "reactor" nor "cool" defined anywhere in the system code, but HOR_OS doesn't even use = signs.

you may ask us, "if the lich is so shit, why do people pilot it?" and we are so glad you asked! generally speaking, answers to this question fall into one of two variations: - "it's a funny mech" - "why is everyone saying i pilot a lich??? i pilot a nelson!!! what do you mean that's my lich frame in the mech bay and i've had it for years, i literally don't have a single HORUS license, @horus-unofficial please advise"

the lich's victorian orphan-esque constitution aside, its biggest strength as a frame is likely its ability to send itself to the seaside for a much needed mental health break should it encounter the slightest hint of adversity on the battlefield. its no wonder the lich is so frail, the entirety of our nonexistent R&D budget went into making this thing the most annoying roleplayer on the playground. "you hit me with your sword? nuh-uh, i dodge. oh you run me through on your spear, killing me instantly? well it turns out that that body wasn't actually me, i've been dramatically looking down upon this duel from up there on those cliffs the whole time!" <- words most commonly spoken by future lich pilots at 11 years old

this allows it to be unexpectedly versatile in combat- with a refundable get out of jail free card and a maximum speed comparable to most of SSC's catalogue, it can weave through dangerous zones in combat with unexpected efficiency, allowing it to support allies from virtually any range, and instigate the occasional skirmish if its pilot is so inclined. we dont necessarily advise that you choose violence as a lich pilot, only that its a more viable choice of function than you might initially think

the lich plays with the timestream with the same enthusiasm as a preschooler in a sandbox, both in regards to itself and anything (un)fortunate enough to be within its sensor range. for every timeline where the lich is playing support for its allies and being so kind and niceys, there's another timeline where it gleefully tears into its adversaries until it overextends and dies respawns in another timeline, and it's through this universal law that an unusually principled lich pilot might find themselves taking a hit for its allies before immediately redeeming that get out of jail free card we mentioned earlier. of course, "principled HORUS pilot" is an oxymoron, so if your squad has a lich pilot what actually happens is more along the lines of being teamed with the biggest fucking nuisance on your planet, who pretends to toodle about the battlefield all combat because the truth is they've been stuck in a time loop for 7 years, and are well beyond the point of caring.

bottom line: if you encounter a lich in combat, dont even bother targeting it. it's unkillable except for when it isn't, and its banned from every omninet roleplay forum in the known universe for a reason

[taurder]

Relax

top!dom!reader x sub!miguel o'hara.

contains: sub space, kinda? begging, praise kink, riding, implied spider-person reader, nipple play (just biting and sucking)

"that's it boss, take your frustrations out with me" miguel groans notably at the nickname but his movements don't stop, and neither does your words. "you look so good like this, working hard even if it's past office hours".

this does gets him to flash out his claws, the sound of the wall being scratched adding to the ambience of what's happening inside miguel's office. you get your hands in his waist, mostly admiring the way his abs flex with each move, the way his cock bobs up and down, shining with pre cum. his hands were still against the wall as his body towered against yours. you could barely tilt your head up into the couch to watch his concentrated state. his moans were soft and low but there. this has been going on for over half an hour now.

you saw the way he was foaming at the mouth when that meeting ended. sometimes the other spiders got in his nerves, and with last week's stressful anomalies you knew he needed something else to loosen up and forget about his mission for a moment.

the hq was mostly empty thanks to you sending out spider-people to take a day off, and so you two were almost entirely cleared out to have fun. at first miguel had been snickering about the others, even as you were prepping him, all he could muster was soft and angry recalls. "imbéciles" he had called them, but with each finger you added and when he finally sat down in your cock his focus changed to the moment. and has been like that for the past forty five minutes.

you squeezed at his waist now, small compared to the rest of his torso and chest. "fuck– i think i'm ready to cum now. can you..?" he muffled out, not really looking at you but slowing down the way he was making circles against your pelvis. "you're relaxed enough?" you asked back, an underlying you don't need more? hiding in the other question, but he pushed his ass back, getting lower to press into you more. "please?" he whined, tone wanton and needy, enough to convince you all his thoughts and needs were here.

you thrusted up while holding his waist down and his dick spilled out more pre cum as a response. you haven't spend much energy in this whole interaction, so you didn't need to try much to set a fast rhythm that had miguel keening in pleasure. he was tired, so he lowered his arms fron the wall, leaning to put his face against the cold surface, moaning more loudly when the new position allowed you to lick and suck at his nipples easily. his ass tighten and you fucked into him harder.

"ah, ah, ah! más– please please, keep going, please" he begged prettily and so you hit his prostate as a reward, one that he appreciated much, you could tell with the groan that came out of his throat. a few more thrusts aimed like that and he was done. he sobbed at you, pushing his tits closer to your mouth as his dick painted both of your torsos with white lines of semen. he ride you still, happy to bring you to your own climax even as he was coming down from his. miguel swears in between moans when you bite slightly at his nipple, cumming inside of him after a well built in orgasm.

"i needed that" he whispered, satisfied and full as he laid back a little to take your face into his hands, claws retracting as he looked at you, thankful. you grabbed his ass then, sliding one of your fingers inside along with your dick, watching him shiver and smile while pushing back into you. "tired already, boss? we're not done yet".

[t4rner]

this is hardcore ✧ mark x fem. reader

★ mature content. unprotected p in v, fingering, you’re getting eaten out, don’t know how else i can put it. office sex. age gap but never mentioned. you’re a secretary. i recommend listening to ‘this is hardcore’ by pulp while reading. this is NOT proof read

i’m never writing a smut ever again.

alex ‘mark’ turner x fem. reader

She has been working at the Tranquility Base Hotel (and Casino) for nearly two years now. Her job wasn’t exactly thrilling, bringing coffee to your boss every morning was not exactly phenomenal, but how could she complain?

As well as waking up earlier than she should, just to buy him a coffee, she also recorded everything in every meeting, in her little black notebook, what things were said, and if they were important, she’d highlight them, or she’ll end up drawing a little star beside it if she had lost her highlighter. again. Though, her boss would’ve just bought her more, and if she refused, she’ll never hear the end of it. She’d end up in the filing room for hours if he asked, if he needed numbers on something specific, or just needed another double-check on something, she’d do it.

The job took up her life, but sometimes she didn’t mind. Even when he’d ask her to stay after work, she never refused. He was a different man when it was just the two alone.

Mark was a strict man, ethical, and straight-forward. He didn’t give a fuck if he behaved like a complete asshole. If you were shit at your job, you’re fired, end of story. She’d overhear the other workers bad-mouth him, calling him a tyrant, but she said nothing, because she knew how he truly was—how he was when he was around her. If he thought she stayed too long after work, he’d send her home in a cab that was on his tab. He refused to let her pay for anything. He was a good man, but his ego was too big to ever let it show around anyone that wasn’t her. He thought he’d look weak, and he definitely did not want the people that worked below him to think he was.

He usually works long hours, even when the office emptied, he’d still be rooted to the chair by the next morning; when he did get up, he’d usually leave the office for an hour or two, to check on the hotel.

It was Friday night when she was still in the office during after hours, sitting on his floor, correcting every mistake she could possibly find. He sat by his desk, his legs spread as his fingers twirled his pen, staring at the bright screen of his computer.

She eventually looked up at him, and she clears her throat, which makes him turn his head almost immediately. They had slept together nearly a week ago. He invited her over to his apartment, and one thing led to another, and now things were tense, and she didn’t like that.

“Do you have a problem with me?” She questions, her lips curving into a small frown. He tilts his head to the side, before placing the pen down onto his desk. When he doesn’t speak, she continues. “You barely uttered a word to me the past week.”

He sighs, before he rubs his face, and he stands up, which makes her instinctively stand up as well. “Just had a rough week, darlin’. It’s not you.” He hums as he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, twirling her slightly before pushing her against the edge of his desk, “I could never have a problem with you.” He murmurs, his fingers brushing back strand a of hair behind her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she sighs. “Mark—“

“Shh, shh..” He sighs, before he leans in, pressing his lips against her jaw, “Do you know how hard it’s been, not being able to touch you like this?” He utters against her skin, his breath hot as he trails down to the first button of her blouse. “I can’t think of anything else but you.”

His fingers trailed up to her blouse, unbuttoning the white shirt achingly slow. She lets out a hitched breath, her eyes fluttering at the feel of his lips on her skin. “Tell me to stop.” He mutters as he eventually unbuttons her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders, which makes her shudder.

She wanted to, but at the same time, she couldn’t. She felt the same way. When she didn’t speak a word, he presses his lips against her collarbone, til it traced down her sternum. “You’re so gorgeous.” He breathes out. Her fingers gripped the desk tightly, and she gulps. His hand moved up to palm her bra, and his lips moved to the top of her breast, kissing and mouthing her sweet skin.

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispers, “Can I?” He looks up at her, and she quickly nods, and it didn’t take him even a second until he was on his knees. His fingers meticulously unzip the sides of her pencil skirt, letting it fall to the floor. He presses soft kisses against her hip, his finger hooking into the waistband of her black, lace panties, pulling it down slightly as he continued to kiss down her leg, and her fingers move into his hair, her grip tight.

His fingers fidget with her panties, and a whimper escapes her, and he smiles, looking up at her. “Never sought you to be such a needy little girl, sweetheart.” He hums, before he eventually slides them down, “Come on, be a good girl and sit down on the chair.” He nods, before he eventually stands up, watching her as she carefully moved to sit down, and he smiles. “Atta’ girl..” He whispers, before kneeling back down, noticing how wet she was, already dripping onto the leather seat. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” He chuckles, his hands moving up to her thighs, pulling them up until they were resting on her shoulders.

His hands find their way to the sides of her stomach, and his head dips down without warning, his nose grazing against her swollen clit, and her thighs squeeze around his head, rolling her head back. “I got you, baby.” He murmurs, before he presses her mouth against her pulsing folds, and she lets out a moan, her grip tightening in his hair. He sucks her labia, his fingers moving to cup her breast underneath her bra, as his tongue twirls around it. His tongue works side to side, before it delves between her folds, and her moans grow louder, her body writhing underneath his mouth. Everytime her thighs clench around his head, her fingers tightening in his hair, or the moan of his name, it strives him to continue.

“Mark, I’m going to cum..” She gasps out.

He continues his semi-aggressive movements, until he pulls away, switching to his fingers as one digit delves between her folds, and she cries out, his thumb moving in circular motions around her clit, and that warm feeling starts to pool in her stomach, and she knew she was getting close.

His finger pumps deep inside of her, curling into that sweet spot of hers, and suddenly she was a goner. She lets out a soft cry as her body shakes as she cums, and his finger slows its thrusts, guiding her through her orgasm, before he eventually pulls out. He licks his fingers clean, before leaning over her as he presses his lips against hers, swallowing her small whimpers. “You want more, don’t you?” He whispers, and she whimpers in response, nodding, before he deepens the kiss, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, already forgotten as he unzips his pants, pulling his pants down. His aching cock was soaking with pre-cum, already staining his boxers, and he pulls her up, guiding her towards the desk, pushing her down until her stomach pressed against his cold desk. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, “Especially like this.” He hums, before he slips off his boxers, his girthy, veiny, hardened length springing out. He pumps his dick, letting the pre-cum leak out, and he gently presses the tip against her pulsing hole, “I’ll take it easy on you..” He murmurs, and she can only shake her head, “Mark, please..”

He couldn’t even keep in his lust and desire as he plunges deep inside her, his fingers holding onto her hips, his words long forgotten. He pulls out, teasing her with his tip, before he sinks in again, his thrusts were slow, but eventually sped up. Her moans grew louder as relentlessly assaulted her insides, he could feel her clenching around him and he groans, his thrusts growing deeper. He could feel her molding around him, as if she was made for him, and him only. “Look at you, baby..” He groans, “So tight.. made for me, aren’t you..?” He murmurs, until his fingers moved towards her clit, rubbing circles with her thumb, and her eyes water, the overwhelming sensation hitting her all at once, and she could feel herself chasing her second orgasm. “You’re.. taking.. me.. so.. well..” He pants. “Going to fill you up, sweetheart..”

“If you’ll let me..” And she moans in response, “Yes!” She cried out eagerly.

He eventually hits that sweet spot of hers as he shifts his body, and soon enough, she was coming apart, yet he continued his deep thrusts, bruising her insides as he soon eventually came after her, groaning as he fills her up; her thrusts going sluggish as he continued, trying to keep all of it to stay in.

The room is eventually silent, except for their heavy pants, and he eventually pulls out, his length softening.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out as he cups her cheek, making her look at him, and she nods, “I’m okay.” She smiles tiredly, and his lips curve into a small smile in return.

“I’ll take you home this time.”

[unreliablesnake]

König couldn't help but smile while he watched you standing in the middle of the square, looking back and forth between the screen of your phone and the nearby streets with a confused look on your gorgeous face. You were lost, he could easily see that.

It was one of those rare occasions when he was off-duty, visiting his family in Austria without having to protect his identity with the usual veil. Yes, he felt naked, almost anxious again, but he reminded himself that everything was okay. He was alone. No one was following him. No one recognized him. It was all good.

So he laughed to himself quietly before walking over to you. "Excuse me," he began, already raising his hands in defense since he knew you would freak out because of his size alone. When you gulped and locked the screen of your phone, he went on. "You seem to be lost. Can I help?"

You hesitated, but your eyes never left his face. Were you just cautious and kept an eye on him to make sure he behaved? Or was there another reason? Maybe something was on his face? When he cocked an eyebrow at you, you cleared your throat and kicked the cobblestone sidewalk.

"I have the goddamn GPS in my phone and I'm still lost," you murmured angrily with an adorable nose scrunch. "I'm looking for this address," you told him once you found the email it was in.

He took a good look at the screen, and he couldn't help but smile. "I'm going right across the street, I can show you the way if you'd like," he offered.

Nodding, you put the device back to your pocket. "That would be great, thank you."

The two of you walked in silence for a while. König had a series of questions on his mind, starting with one about your name and one about whether or not you were a local. Even he got lost sometimes after being away for too long, so he wouldn't be that surprised to find out you were living in this city.

But he remained silent, and instead of opening his mouth, he silently observed your features, taking in the details as if he was trying to remember his girlfriend's looks. But you weren't his girlfriend, although a part of him desperately wanted to ask you out before you parted at your destination.

The great Colonel König was back to his anxious self because of you. His mind was in overdrive, one moment he was just about to open his mouth, the next he wanted to run away and hide from you. It was a terrible feeling, one he didn't have to face on the battlefield. Oh, how he wished he was back there.

"You're tall. And big," you suddenly mused as you turned to him with a smile. "I'm sure a lot of people tell you that, sorry."

He couldn't help but laugh at this. "Yeah, I get that a lot. And you're cute," he added without even thinking.

You came to a sudden halt and turned to him with your hands folded behind your back. "You think I'm cute?"

Damn it. Where the hell did that filter between his mouth and brain go? "I–I... It's not... Yes," he eventually admitted guiltily.

With a laugh, you moved closer to him and playfully nudged his arm with your shoulder. "You don't look bad either. Maybe we could meet later."

"As in going on a date?" You nodded with a smile. "I'd love that."

König knew you were close to your destination, so he pulled out his phone and gave it to you. "Can I get your number to discuss the details?" he asked.

Without answering, you took the device and typed your number along with your name before giving it back to him. "Give me a call or send me a text."

He looked at the new contact and couldn't hold back a smile. "I like your name."

"Speaking of names, you never told me yours," you noted with a pout.

"It's König."

"That's all? Hmm... mysterious. I like it."

The rest of the trip passed in silence, mostly because you wanted to avoid spoilers. We'll have time to talk on our date, you said. He was okay with that. But when he stopped in front of the building where you were heading, his heart sank. He didn't want to say goodbye yet, but there was nothing he could do.

Before he could register what was happening, you stood on your toes and gently pulled down his head to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for showing me the way," you whispered to him.

"Anytime," König told you.

[tarjapearce]

Hi hi! Thank you for letting me go ahead and send it through! I didn’t want to overwhelm you, that’s absolutely fine still take your time and keep taking those breaks mamas!

I’ve seen a lot of single dilf Miguel x reader but I don’t think I’ve ever read where reader was a single parent. So I was thinking reader is new to spider society and on the day she’s told to join she has to bring her baby because she didn’t have a babysitter. Well Miguel sees her and it’s like he’s instantly drawn to her like sunflowers are to the sun, sunflowers move where the sun goes and when the sun doesn’t shine they face each other (She’s kinda like his day and night if that makes sense) but instead of acting on it he dismisses her but kinda admires her and her baby from a distance.

Well one day she’s having a small part for the main group and she invited Miguel because she always felt the feelings but also dismissed them. Then after the party he stays to help and the end up getting closer and yeah. It can be nsfw I don’t mind, I also hope this makes sense it’s been in my mind for a while and you’d be so good for this!

The rest is all up to you if you decide to write it pretty girl. Just remember to take your time and all the breaks you need. Mental, physical, and emotional health is important don’t overwork yourself 💕

Im so sorry this taken me soo long. Hope this make it justice 😊❤️. Thanks for requesting dear.

If it wasn't for the webs that stopped Rhino as he was about to deliver the last blow to you, you'd be certainly gravely injured or worse.

Another Spiderwoman, clad in a red, yellow and black suit had helped you through. Both of your minds in sync, that soon earned you the win over a now unconscious Rhino.

She introduced herself as Jessica Drew. Another Spiderwoman from another universe. At first her explanation of what the Arachnohumanoid-Polymultiverse was, had your head spinning and confused, but after quite a while of visiting you on duty, and clearing up as much questions you needed, you had been officially 'invited' to join, by Miguel’s orders.

You've never met the man, but the way people talked about him, made you not only curious but excited to meet him. Everyone described him as a good yet scary boss.

----

"Let's go"

"Hope you don't mind?" Your nervous smile reached Jess as you packed in your child's stuff in the baby sling. A couple of diapers, extra clothes and bottles.

"Look at this beautiful boy" Jessica held him as you finished packing up stuff, "Didn't know you had one"

"Oh, well. You never asked. Plus we always met on duty. The babysitter I get for him called in sick and I have none as a back up. Hope Miguel doesn't mind."

"What about his dad?"

Your head shook softly and sighed.

"He decided to not be part of our lives."

Jessica just nodded, lips pursing.

"His loss, really. Anyways, ready to go?"

------

Not even in your wildest dreams you'd imagine something as The Babylon Tower or HQ as most Spiders called it, could exist. Different sort of Spiders paraded around and greeted Jess upon her arrival.

Some even greeted your toddler that cooed and giggled upon the many heroes that came his way.

"Let's get you to Miguel." Jess walked ahead and you followed, you baby's eyes wandered, marveling at the different colors and people. You'd sometimes make hamocs and web playgrounds for him to be more active. Your babysitter was the only person you could actually trust your identity, she had even helped you sometimes by calling the cops, or even fixing your suit.

Another man in a pink bathrobe approached and gasped at your baby

"Please tell me we're getting a Spider Parents exclusive division now."

You chuckled and Jess just rolled her eyes

"Sweetie, this is Peter."

"As in Peter Parker?"

"Nah. As in Peter Benjamin 'B' Parker."

"Oh... And whose that cutie over there?" Your eyes trailed to Mayday as she beamed at you.

"Mayday. A lil spider in growth"

"She has spider powers?! Oh my goodness!"

"It's chaos, I know. What about yours?"

"Normal baby so far. Should I be concerned?"

"Not really, it comes in the least unexpected moment and them BAM! Spider baby. "

You giggled as you made your way through the halls to a much more secluded and dark area.

"Miguel?"

Your baby couldn't help but babble as a hulking figure approached from the furthest corner.

"He's so dramatic" Peter whispered and again, you giggled under your mouth.

Jess introduced you both and explained your progress to him. Apparently they had been observing you for quite the time.

" I apologize for bringing my child. My babysitter called in sick."

"No problem."

Even though his voice was calm, the coldness in it made you recoil to yourself. His scrutinizing gaze fixed on you and your baby. By instinct you held him close.

Red eyes settled on yours, but the subtle stare contest was interrupted by the anomaly alarm.

-----

As your time in the Spider Society advanced, your interactions with Miguel improved significantly, and by that it'd mean longer conversations, a joke here and there and of course moments so subtle between you both that you had to be quite analytical to know that he gave glances your way or lean to you slightly whenever speaking to him.

Not that you were inmune to his looks, but his patience stood proudly among his other virtues. And to your surprise he seemed to handle Mayday well enough. What actually made you to be drawn to him is that in one of your many occasions that you couldn't leave your baby boy alone, and brought him into HQ with you, he'd be instantly looking for Miguel.

Your cheeks would flush impossibly red as your baby clung to his leg and erupted in a bubbly laughter.

"God, I'm so so sorry, he just... seem to like the blue alot."

An airy chuckle was everything that escaped his lips. Of course there was so many questions he'd want to do out of curiosity. He had noticed you didn't wear a ring, neither talked about the baby's father. It was something he never seemed to coax out of you. No matter how subtle he was about it.

Pa pa

You both froze as your baby mumbled and grabbed a few strands of his hair.

"I'm so sorry..." You pried the baby away from him and fled the place as soon as you could. He just watched you leave, the inner turmoil in his heart was surely playing dirty. The way the baby had clung to him, and climbed ontop of his chest made his heart to leap after a long long while.

-----

You had been avoiding him, for sure. Ever since your little incident with the baby mumbling his first words, you had taken your distance with him. Of course you weren't ready for your baby's actions, but the fear of going through all that again, had surely dismissed all possible blooming feelings you had for your boss. Besides he seemed way too busy and aloof to try and pursue anything with anyone.

Not that you blamed him, the multiverse depended basically on him. It was for the best.

----

The moment you were falling asleep, your Spider senses tingled so hard you had a little headache coming your way.

Dread settled on your brain as your baby boy screamed and wailed.

No No No!

You were already darting towards his room, and pulled him with one of your webs towards you, holding onto him for dear life as the creature shredded his crib to bits with its elongated talons.

Your eyes went wide at the sudden action, your baby kept wailing in fear, earning the humanoid like creature to snap it's attention to you. You were fast, but the creature was faster and sliced through your flesh in one of your sides. You fell on your back protecting your son from the impact with a groan.

You needed to get out, or at least put your baby out of danger.

Survival mode kicked in as you dodged and took as much damage as you could from the creature that seemed way too keen into hurting your child.

You fought but exhaustion was taking over, the blows of the creature only seemed harder and powerful, but no matter what your priority was to keep your child safe, even if it costed your life.

The creature pounced on you, but the final blow never came. There was a commotion as you tried to get up, all you could hear was inhuman shrieks, growlings and finally the engine of a too familiar motorcycle revving up.

Your baby was pried away from your hands and you whimpered

"N-No!" even in your injured state, your mother instinct kicked in.

Your name was called, several times until you were held against a sturdy yet warm body with such care and tenderness that stilled your thrashing body. Vision blurred, but the last thing you saw the led lights of a blue and red suit, red eyes staring at you with concern.

-----

You woke up in HQ's medical bay. Pain surging through your body as you tried to sit down, Miguel's hand stopped you. Face with his ever permanent frown and something else. Worry.

"Where's... Where's my baby?"

"He's fine. Out of danger." His hands reached for a new set of bandages, he took your arm gently and began replacing the bandages himself, some were stained in a fresh layer of blood.

The silence fell upon you both until he decided to break it.

"You... were brave. We still don't know what that creature was, yet you didn't hesitate to fight back."

"It was going for my son... If I would've got there a second too late..." Voice broke and eyes filled up with tears.

The knot only tightened around his throat upon remembering the anomaly alarm in your world and saw you fighting for your son's life. He didn't think twice before jumping into action.

"The anomaly was terminated."

Terminated, not contained.

"I see"

"Your safety is all that matters to... this organization"

To me

You nodded

"Thanks."

----

He had learned that you were a single parent thanks to Jessica. Something he had trouble understanding sometimes. How could a man abandon his own family? He'd give everything to have one more chance and at least make things right, he wouldn't interfere with Gabriella, no matter how much he'd like to, just to keep her safe and alive.

But seeing you fighting for your son, made that side of him he thought buried forever to claw back full force on him. You were a great mother that wouldn't hesitate to attack and lash out at everything that menaced your son. It was the last straw for him.

----

A couple of months had gone by since your incident, and as a retribution you had decided to do a small gathering. Not only to say thanks to them, but to also celebrate your son's birthday.

Wounds were properly healed thanks to Miguel's attention and cares. Music echoed through your apartment. You weren't sure he'd show up, but the invitation was delivered to him.

Your son was having the time of his life as Peter and Jess played with him. Mayday was such a great play date and everyone seemed to have a great time. A portal was open to your kitchen and Miguel stepped out. Suit underneath civilian clothes. It was weird to see him out of the blue and red suit you were always used to see.

"Hey" You smiled and he placed a little present in your hands.

"Hope he likes it."

"I'm sure he will, thanks."

Your smile turned bashful as he leaned on the kitchen counter. Your place seemed normal, cozy even. Full with your son and you pictures. One was cut out and the only trace of a man existing in your life was the forgotten hand you were oblivious in cutting out. And even so, he seemed unsure since his fingers were barely touching you or your son.

"Here." You offered a plate full of food, which he took and scarfed down.

"When was the last time you actually ate?"

His eyes locked on yours, wide by the sudden question.

"There is more if you want to."

"I don't want to overstep-"

"The rest already had their portion. And I frankly went a bit overboard with it. So it's fine."

Your baby's laughter roared from the other side, earning you a chuckle.

"I'm... sorry though"

"For?"

"Him, calling you that. I know what happened and I'm sure it's not nice to just-"

"Couldn't blame a baby. Is it... ok for me to ask what happened to the father?"

"He just decided that we weren't enough for him. So he went for a new one. Away from us."

His eyebrows knit deeper and a light scowl drew in his face.

"But, it's fine. It's less of a burden knowing that you don't have to raise another man child."

He chuckled and nodded

"You're a great mother." You served him another plate but stopped when the corner of his mouth was doused in sauce. Giggling you reached for napkin and got in your tip toes.

"Excuse me" You wiped his mouth and smiled, "Sorry, can't help it"

His hand went to the back of your nape and leaned down for a kiss.

"Lo siento..." (Im sorry)

It was something that felt out of his character, he knew much, but it couldn't be helped. You had come like a little storm that turned into a hurricane in his heart. And that harrowing night where he saw you fighting with everything you had, only grounded him into allowing himself to feel and experience for once.

You got in your tip toes again and pulled him down for a kiss. There was no words needed, just a look of mutual understanding and complicity between the both. A kiss in the palm of your hand sealed up the implicit deal.

You were his now.