#the suit over them which probably have looked more stupid than it already does on its own

[skaluli]

Great Blue bonus timelapse of me lining a singular wing (don't mind meatcanyon or my blunt pen nib that doesn't register a press at times since i'm to stubborn to replace it)

[measuringbliss]

Ultimate Spider-Man (2024) 8-10

So the artist is definitely taunting us right

Because... I mean...

...Anyway. Peter's duplicated mind is definitely not dangerous in any way. It can speak and has an evil smile.

Perfectly reliable. (I need to write smut.)

Actually I don't even need to write anything because the selfcest writes itself. But it's time to celebrate the kids' birthday, so Peter has no time to challenge his conception of his own sexuality. His trysts with Harry are already quite charged.

Then we have a flashback to three weeks ago, because the comics's pacing makes it awkward that way. Wouldn't have to do that if you had more pages, honey! Or if it wasn't per month. Remember, Iron Man arrived just as Peter and Harry were beating each other and testing their AI. Peter's is very lovely (as we've seen), and Harry's daddy issues incarnated since it's his own father. What a stupid choice.

I don't like how this Tony looks, but I'm glad to see the bisexuality is still present. Tony says the Maker returns "in a little over a year" (so probably after two years all in all, I thought it would only be one year but okay). Why does he return, actually? To get beat up? Because that's what's gonna happen.

Anyway, turns out Harry wasn't on the list of heroes who HAD to be eradicated. Peter was, but not Harry, because of course he wasn't. Wow, I bet their relationship will have no trouble whatsoever.

Peter gives Tony a chance, but Harry's fixated on the fact that Tony totally broke his suit's security. Because weakness. Because daddy issues.

Back at the kids' party, Ben tries to make Peter subtly understand that he and Jameson are an item.

He mostly fails. Anyway, the paper launches the following month (September, then). It took its time. And they want Peter there. He's not sure about it.

The party looks nice. I was finally able to play one of these dance things in Japan a few months ago and let me tell you, it's really hard. But it's fun.

Funny, that's what Ben said about Jameson.

I love this kid. He's great. Hope nothing happens to him because so far he's completely exceeded my expectations.

It's clear that the kid feels very lonely too (pretty sure that's shown in the early issues as well), but Jameson gifting him his autobiography is priceless. What a fascinating relationship. He published it himself! Fits with his autoentrepreneur thing.

Meanwhile, Fisk contacts the other gang leaders.

Yeah, still hot.

The leaders are clearly the minibosses. So beside Martin Li, we get Black Cat (Felicia's father), Mysterio (<3), Kraven, and... Mole Man. Alright. In the cliffhanger, Fisk says he wants to make a game out of his enemies... is he going to make them fight each other? It's not gonna be difficult then, Harry's one joke away from choking Peter. And I do not only mean sexually, although yes, that too.

Ish 9!

Ben and Jameson are not satisfied about their articles; too much about Spidey, not enough about the dark side of the Big Apple.

About some SPECTACULAR content?

Anyway, MJ explains that actually, It's Good, because they're very successful right now.

In his lab, Otto gives Harry a firmware upgrade. For Spidey, his solution is a costume change.

Peter confers with his AI that's totally not swallowing him up in his sleep.

Bingo.

Unfortunately for Otto, Peter is already in a fully committed relationship with his current suit. So Peter suggests the suit stays at PETER'S HOME TO PROTECT IT. SURELY NOTHING WRONG WILL HAPPEN. I need more conversations between these two. Give me more than crumbs!

Anyway, it's all so Tony can't track them down, which I find... kind of strange but alright. Peter doesn't seem too attached to the idea either.

I expected a black suit, I wanted to hate it, but not gonna lie... IT's kind of cool. But yeah it's really giving Sonyverse!Venom movies. I'm here for it!

Peter's... not into it. It's too *complete*.

He opts for a spandex suit. Booooring.

God Harry's really trying to make them a thing. Peter's bisexuality is still buried.

Meanwhile, Ben and Jameson investigate Stark/Stanne Industries. Sure.

Anyway, Black Cat arrives and fights our heroes.

Not very heterosexual, mister.

Eventually, Harry acts on instinct, spurred by his dad, and yeets BC out of the building. BC is almost dead.

Peter's *not* happy about it.

Okay, yandere.

Just kiss already argh

I'm very impressed with how much the book accomplishes in its short amount of pages but goddamnit everything here also deserves 5 times more exploration.

Oh, what the hell. Let's read ish 10 as well!

It's focused on Ben and Jameson's investigation, which I do not really care about. They get closer to Stark/Stanne Industries's acquisition, which leads them to Oscorp, so to Gwen, who gave them the money in the first place.

Her reaction?

Very understandable.

Later, Richard (the son) checkmates Peter, and MJ informs Ben that Gwen called her.

Oh, those shadows on Peter's shirt were not necessary.

Anyway, Gwen has a week until the story comes out. Ouch.

And when Harry enters the Paper's office, Ben drops the bombshell: they think either Harry or his wife are in the green suit. (Which leaves the question of Spidey open... They must have an inkling, surely.)

Harry's reaction?

Well, well, well...

They just keep on giving each other money for bets they made. Kind of golden.

Harry quickly gets tired of these gay ass old men, but he tells them about Oscorp's secret intel about a lot of stuff, and says that Peter says he can trust them. So they must now know he's Spidey.

KISS.

Anyway, finally, they publish their story...

"Photo by Peter Parker" and then published by a "Ben"... HMM. THAT SURE IS DIFFICULT TO FIGURE OUT.

That's it for today! See you, like, in December or January for the next few issues <3

[jedusaur]

WIP amnesty: Jamie meets Phoebe

(this was going to be a longer fic, but now that they've met in canon I'm not feeling it anymore, so here's what I'd written so far)

Roy was expecting meeting his parents to be the hard part, because of all the daddy issues. It would have made sense, given Jamie's pathological need for approval and inability to relate to anyone more than six years older than him, not to mention the whole shirtless suit thing. Surely he'd be a disaster with parents. But no, it went fine, they had lasagne and mostly talked about football and made it through the evening with a minimum of awkward moments. And once that was over, Roy reckoned they were pretty much out of the woods family-wise. It wasn't like Jamie was ever going to set them up for a nice lasagne with his dad.

Apparently Roy miscalculated the intimidation factor of a ten-year-old girl.

"Take a fucking breath," he says, gingerly rubbing Jamie's shoulder. "What are you losing your shit for? Kids love you."

"Kids are impressed by me," Jamie corrects. "She won't be impressed, she's Roy Kent's niece." He's perched against the wheel well of the G-Wagon in the car park at Phoebe's school, bent over with his hands on his knees, having some kind of panic attack or something. Roy has no clue what to do.

"Take a fucking breath," he repeats, and waits until he hears Jamie drag some air into his lungs. "It's going to be fine. She's just a kid."

"What if she doesn't like me?" Jamie looks up at him, and Roy is horrified to see wetness in his eyes. "What if she hates me? You wouldn't be able to be with someone she hated."

That, Roy decides, is enough of that. There's only so much feelings bullshit he can tolerate. He grabs Jamie by the shoulders and roughly straightens him up, lifting his chin in hopes of tipping the tears back in where they belong. "My ten-year-old niece does not dictate where I put my dick," he says firmly, and presses a kiss to Jamie's quivering lips.

"Uncle Roy?"

Jamie tries to jerk away from the kiss and bashes his head against the car window. "Fuck!"

Roy groans and checks briefly to make sure Jamie hasn't damaged his skull or the window too badly before turning to look at Phoebe. She's standing there wearing her backpack, arms folded, taking in the scene.

"This," she muses, "feels like a situation I can get some ice cream out of."

Roy has never seen Jamie this uncomfortable, at least not openly. Usually he covers up discomfort with bravado, which actually would probably work better on Phoebe than it does in the dressing room. But here, sitting in a booth across from Roy and his niece at an ice cream shop, he's vibrating out of his skin.

Phoebe glances up at Roy, vaguely concerned. "What's wrong with him?" she asks, making no attempt to whisper.

Roy snorts. "Well, there's a question with a few hundred thousand answers."

She frowns. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"Yes." They've covered that part in advance.

"Then why are you being mean to him? You're never that mean to Keeley."

Roy considers trying to explain dressing room culture and their particular history, but he can imagine the series of increasingly specific questions that would follow, and in the end he would just have to admit that ultimately it's all stupid bullshit. "You're right," he says. "I shouldn't be mean to him. Sorry, Jamie."

Jamie's jaw fully drops, which is fucking unnecessary. Roy scowls.

Phoebe has already moved on. "Why aren't you having ice cream?" she asks Jamie.

He glances down at his coffee. "Uh, I'm not allowed ice cream during the season."

"Not allowed?" She shoots Roy a severe look. "Uncle Roy, you shouldn't have a boyfriend who isn't a grownup."

Oh fuck. Roy can just hear his sister's voice on the phone asking why Phoebe is telling all her classmates Roy Kent is a pedo. He jumps in to shut that shit down, talking over Jamie's frantic attempts to do the same thing, and Phoebe lets chaos reign for a moment before losing her straight face and busting into giggles. 

"Telling me off for being mean to him," Roy grumbles, trying not to let her see him fighting a proud grin. Jamie looks a bit like he's been hit by a bus. "That was fucking mean."

"He's not my boyfriend," she points out, tucking into her ice cream.

[ishipthis]

Imakememories - A dribble about the aftermath.

"Come in" he does, the scent of garlic, tomato and something else he can't quite put his finger on assaulting his senses as he steps through the threshold of the door. This day was one of the best in a while and Freddie was doing all he could to savour it, to slow time down for just a little while so he could catch his breath. What better place to do that than a pictorial walk down memory lane? Not.   

It was his fault really, he was the one that still after all these years couldn't bear to see her sad. As if jumping in front of a taco truck to save her life wasn't enough, ten years later and his first reaction to her experiencing any kind of loss, even that of photo kind, was to make it better. In hindsight he supposed it wasn't really all that bad of an idea, he'd seen a buzz feed article a few years ago about some children who recreated the scenes from their childhood for their parents for a calendar and that looked fun, easy even, just a simple bonding experience between people who had spent their lives together. What could possibly be the difference? He'd spent his life with Carly, this should have been the same. Only it wasn't.  

Ever since their discussion a week prior things had been different. If he's being honest with himself, the truth is that things had probably been 'different' since the night of his birthday, or when really thinking back on it, their time in the honeymoon suite on the girls trip. But going that far down memory lane leaves far too many questions and he's not sure he's ready to hear the answers to them, or in any case to be reminded of what deep down he already knows. No, pretending all of this is a fresh and new problem seems like a safer much more self preserving way to go.   

She'd come over after their fight, his favourite ice cream and apology in hand and he'd tried to stay strong, he'd really really tried. He couldn't help that the moment she smiled at him stupid desert, all the feelings of wanting her to feel the weight of his loss, the weight of his anger, vanished. Looking back on it he thinks the truth is that in that moment it wasn't his break up with Pearl that caused his anguish, in fact in that moment the only thing he felt towards Pearl or from the loss of Pearl was.... relief. What he felt as a result of feeling that relief though, well that was a different thing entirely, a sharp slap in the face if ever there was one. The stunning realisation that even after all these years he was right back where he started, desperate for a girl who once again had no ability whatsoever to recognise his emotions, or even worse, maybe saw them and still chose to turn the other way. For years she’d been using him as her emotional crutch, the get out of problematic life choices-free card. The not quite good enough. It was a familiar song, and all but guarantee that his heart was about to be broken again. It's only a matter of time really, it always is.  

It's why he stepped in before she could, why he'd told her they needed to find out how to be friends. While he was keenly aware that his feelings for her had somehow found their way back to the surface, unlike the last ten times, he was not going to give himself the chance to believe that it could ever be anything more than that. So he friend zoned her. Could it even really be called friend zoning if the person you're friend zoning has spent the last 20 years of your life telling you that you're just their friend? Probably not. Maybe it was friend confirming? Running scared shitless? Whatever it was, for Freddie it was the only way he knew to protect his heart.  Which is why standing here after a day of Carly flirting with him all through out recreating moments from their childhood is.... heavy. Seeing her in that dress, even heavier.   

He holds his breath. She's beautiful and fuck if that doesn't make it harder. Here he is trying to hold himself together and just get through this next memory and she has the audacity to look like that.  It makes him want to leave, walk out the door and bury his head under the mountain of decorative pillows he knows are waiting back at his moms. How she manages to both take his breath away while simultaneously making him want to go blind is an art form he swears only she has been able to master. It’s the feeling he likens to a black hole and gravitational pull, or the sun and world that rotates around it. One day the earth will get too close and then BAM, the sun will burn it to the ground. Life with Carly is like that, a gentle tightrope walk where you try not to get burned. 

He's fighting both of those two warring emotions when she speaks.   "Do you remember the night I wore it?"  It takes him a few seconds, his mind going through a montage of memories before it finally stops and no.. no, this could not be happening. She wouldn't, she couldn't.   "Is this..." he begins, but somehow the words fail him as he feels everything coming to a screeching halt, his stomach seemingly somersaulting as the weight of what this is supposed to be encompasses him.  

He's nervous now, half fright and half flight as he pushes himself to stay anchored to the ground. Its not like having the rug pulled out from under your feet shout be fun, but this impending sense of doom is something else.  Two divorces down and even that didn't feel as gutting as the scene in front of him does. God, he's mellow dramatic, what is wrong with him? How does he allow her to have so much damn power over him?! He's angry again, and watching her happy and excited smile as she starts rambling about their special moment in Italy only brings that feeling on in strides.  

"We got all dressed up for that fancy dinner but then the restaurant was closed for the feast day of St Gepetto, the patron saint of little wooden boys"  She's still speaking as she steps out to link their arms, pulling him closer into the scene he swore he'd never step foot in again, and it’s like being back there again. He’s still mentally processing the fact that this is happening, let alone really taking in what she's saying until he hears the tone in her voice become even more wistful as she starts to romanticise the moment which almost killed him.

"And I said "that's perfect" because I could live 100 years and never find a friend like you”.

And nope. He's done. He can’t.

"I can't believe you did this."  

"Does that mean..." she asks as she steps closer toward him. He cuts her off.

"I can't believe you recreated the worst night of my life.”

Shit. The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks, the confirmation of a truth he already deep down knew but never wanted to admit. THAT was the worst night of his life. Not when he was watching both of his marriages fall down the shitter, the business he believed in completely obliterated before his eyes, or having to crawl back to his mom like the scared little boy she always assumed he was. No, the worst day of his life was when the girl in front of him said those exact words she'd just repeated from all those years ago.

The anger is back. Anger at her. Anger at himself. Anger at this stupid situation and how fucked up it is that despite the fact that she is literally making a romantic story over the time she let him fly across the world using all of his savings just to rip his heart out of his chest and then offer him some gelato as some sick kind of consolation prize, he still thinks she's the most beautiful fucking thing in the world. She is the sun after all.

"That's not how it happened.... at all." He can't help himself.   

"Huh"   

The word vomit starts.   

"Right before you left for Italy, you kissed me, remember?" She nods, a small "yeah" slipping from her lips as she nervously waits for him to continue, her whole frame visibly rattled.  It somehow makes it worse. 

"And you were so lonely that we talked for hours everyday… And I planned that fancy dinner because I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend." He pauses, momentarily getting lost at the way her lips seem to be quivering slightly. He did that. He should feel bad, he does feel bad, he never should have walked through that fucking door. But then why is he the one feeling bad in this situation? She did it! She planned this whole ridiculous charade of a night. A big neon sign to the fact that she still doesn’t see him. Probably never would. Again with the warring bloody emotions. 

"What....? You never said that..." she's genuinely shocked, and he's so genuinely over this whole conversation happening that he thinks to hell with it, and goes all in.   

"You're right, because that old man came along. He said "look at the beautiful couple, and you laughed. You said no, definitely not a couple. Friends. Amici." His voice is cracking now and he hates himself for showing her how much it hurt, how much it apparently still hurts given he's standing here almost brought to his knees again.   

"But you weren't upset, you were fine... We ate gelato until that text..."

He cuts her off before he can stop himself. "Yeah, my family emergency? I made it up. I slept at the airport until I could get a flight home." Take that, he thinks. That’s what you did to me, to your best friend. He knows that admission will burn. Well good, he’s been burning since that night, it’s only fair. 

She's standing there like a deer in the headlights, her doe eyes wide as she looks back at him, confusion etched all over her face. She clearly can't believe it. And that shouldn't surprise him, their whole lives have been a case of mixed wires, her only wanting him when it suits her, only seeing him as something potentially when she's got nothing else going for her, or when she feels indebted to him. Fuck. This is why he doesn't let himself go down this path, it just reminds him how bloody pathetic he is to still be letting her pull all of his strings.   

How is it that even after spending his life loving this girl, she still misses to see him when he's standing in front of her.

"You slept at the airport?" She asks, her voice now at breaking point too.   

He cuts her off again as the emotions begin to bubble up to the surface again, the frustration taking its rightful place front and centre. "And I swore I would never let you string me along again"  

She takes a step towards him and he steps back. "Freddie, I'm sorry, but I did not string you along. "  

"You kissed me, and then a month later you laughed at us being a couple"   

"I laughed because I was uncomfortable" she insists firmly, finally coming to the party with her own frustration.

It's a relief, he thinks. It's one thing to be spilling your deepest kept secrets during a fight, but to be the only one fighting, that's just another kick to the balls. He's glad if anything, while he’s clearly not worth fighting for, he’s worth fighting with.    

"You said that in 100 years, I could only ever be your friend!"  "I said that our friendship was the most important of my life! That meant something to me! But I guess to you, being my friend is just a consolation prize"  

Fuck that. A consolation prize? He has to sit back and watch her fall in and out of love with guy after guy, pick up the pieces when they leave, give everything of himself to make her smile and she thinks he thinks it's a consolation prize? Being in love with someone who could never love you back but has no problem getting your hopes up and stringing you along is no fucking prize, he thinks.   

And further more, how dare she try to imply that their friendship meant nothing, that him putting aside his feelings and letting himself be constantly hurt by her so he could be what she needed, meant nothing. She had said she just wanted to be friends and he had respected that. Heck, he'd gotten married twice running from it.   

"That's not fair"  

"No" she says, squaring her shoulders back for the fight. "it's not fair that you made me the bad guy for all these years just because I didn't like you back".   

His stomach bottoms out again but this time it's along with a pain in his chest he can only assume is from his heart being ripped open again. She'd finally said it. 'I didn't like you back', something he'd always known, but the way she spits it out now, feels like it’s not just then, it’s now, proof of what a pathetic lovesick loser she still thinks he is. And to think, she thought all this and still chose to lead him on, probably thought she was throwing him a bone. It makes him sick.   

"If you didn't like me, why did you kiss me?!"   

"To give us closure so we could both move on!"  

Closure? Moving on? Fuck. He can feel the tears prickling at his eyes, his breathing starting to become heavy as he fights the waves of emotion that are erupting within. "Don't do it, don't let her see it' he tells himself. He fails.   

He has to get out of there. He can't do this anymore. He cannot let her have any more of his heart than she already has, and breaking down in front of her, that would be like serving his heart on a silver platter. I never stopped loving you. He's sure right now she'd stomp on it and then fling it over the side of the pent house, because isn't that what happens when you think someone is an annoying lovesick fool?  He's getting out of here. If he doesn’t, he’ll never forgive himself.

"Well thank you for the closure! That was awfully generous of you”.

He doesn't turn back, he can't. He doesn't want to see her face, he doesn't want to see the way her lips are trembling or the hurt fixed all over her features.   

No, she hurt him. Maybe it is her time to hurt! 

He makes his way to the door, the same one just five minutes ago he'd been nervously standing outside of in anticipation of the surprise inside. Well sur-fucking-prise, he definitely didn't see this one coming.   

He slams the door behind him.   

"Freddie!" He hears her voice through the wooden door as he practically jogs toward the elevator in the hall way. His exit. ”Come on, come on" he whispers whilst looking at the little digital screen above the grey metal doors that register what level the elevator is currently on. It’s mocking him. Five?! Fucking five? That's twenty whole levels away and sure he could go back home but how is he supposed to walk in their and be a dad when right now he apparently mentally is apparently back at the age of 16 navigating the streets of Italy to find a God forsaken taxi. Given the events of the past ten minutes, the idea of being anywhere even remotely near Carly right now feels impossible.   

"Fuck it" he mutters as he runs to the emergency fire exit, flicking it open before letting it slam behind him. What's 30 flights of stairs if it means getting out of her orbit? He’s done being burned, the sun can go fuck itself. 

He’s about three flights of stairs down when he realises he doesn’t mean that. Another six flights down when he thinks maybe he does. 

And isn’t it ironic now how he’s literally running away from her much like he’s run away from all those unspoken truths that have been haunting him for years. He’d been warned by everyone, hell, there was half a whole bloody panel devoted to telling him it would never happen back when they were tweens. But he was naive, stubborn, possibly insane? That’s the definition of insanity isn’t it? Doing the same thing and expecting it to turn out differently. His relationship with Carly was exactly that. He fell, she ‘fell’ and then she broke his heart. How did he ever think it would be different?

There was a time when he thought she really fell too, he thinks, as he finally gets down the last set of stairs, the neon ‘EXIT’ sign beaconing him forward like a moth to a flame. “Finally” he pants, his body silently praising the steady ground its finally found as he breaks out into the lobby of the Bushwell and toward the glass revolving doors where Gus the door man is currently standing. 25 flights of stairs are no joke. If it weren’t for the fuel of absolute despair and stubborn resolve he doubts he even would have made it past ten.

“Good Evening, Freddie” Gus says with a familiar nod. “Going out this evening? Will Miss Millicent be joining you? Miss Carly?” His thick Spanish accent curls around her name as he looks around toward the elevator anticipating either of their arrivals. 

“No” he says quickly, shaking his head at the very idea of having anyone near him right now. “Not tonight, I’m just…” he hesitates, “alone.” It burns.

And isn’t that the truth. He is alone. Somehow despite all of the love he spent his life chasing, at the end of it all, he’s exactly what he always feared; Alone.

The cool air greets him as he slips through the front doors of the Bushwell and into the busy night life of Seattle. Apparently while he was up there watching his world implode the rest of civilisation was continuing on without a care. And isn’t that the funniest notion, every day is the worst day of somebody’s life, he guesses he must just be super lucky to have been gifted two. 

Fuck. This was not meant to be his life. Sure, maybe as a child he’d been stupid and naive waiting around for her, but he had stopped that, he’d stopped it. He’d got fucking married. TWICE. So how the universe somehow conspire to bring him to this point… He just didn’t understand. 

Why was he never good enough? Apparently that was something the universe was also gangbusters on making him realise. What other explanation was there for the two failed marriages he had under his belt. Not only had he spent his whole childhood pining for someone who would never love him back, but then he’d gotten married, committed his life, his world, given up the possibility of  her only to once again be told it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t enough. And isn’t that what was about to happen with Pearl too? Were they not going down that same path? 12 months of dating, she’d met his family, spent time with his daughter, all of the things that prelude to the big question and then… She left. And why? Carly. Or no.. being honest with himself, maybe it was Him. It was always him.

“Fuck”. It hits him like a ton of bricks, the realisation that maybe, just maybe, the desolation of his marriage, his life, had more to do about the way he viewed letting Carly go, than it did all the other trivial things they fought about. He prided himself on always being able to say that at the end of it all he was nothing but a devoted husband, and while that was true, he thinks that maybe that wasn’t so much about being a devoted husband, but about doing whatever it took to play the part, to play the role of someone who is worth staying for. But they couldn’t stay, they couldn’t stay because at the core of it all, it was just a part. 

He’s stuck at the crossing of a busy intersection when the thought hits him. He did it too. Tonight he stood there and blamed Carly; Maybe subconsciously she’s right and he’s been blaming her on the down low for years, but he’s a hypocrite, he thinks. Except maybe even worse? Probably much worse.

The worst fate to him was always the feeling of being near her and knowing that no matter what he did she would never look at him and think “He’s it”. That he could give as much of himself, be as present as possible, wipe away all of the tears, pick her up time and time again and still she would never love him back the way he loved her. It was a blackhole that he’d been living in for the past fifteen years and while there were some seasons that were lighter than others, it was inevitable that like all seasons, the winter would return again. 

But isn’t that what he’d done? And on a level so much more devastating than anything she’d done to him. He’d married them. Where Carly had cared enough about him to say no, to stop it, to settle his expectations, he had done the opposite. He’d not only lied to himself, he’d lied to them. 

The memories of his past relationships come back fast and hard, a new filter over them that somehow makes the scenes playing out in front of his eyes both simultaneously better and worse. He was not the victim. Sure he was not horrible, he played the part well, perfectly even, but they knew it was an act, they knew it was a lie. Time and time again he stood in those rooms, laid in those beds, took the family photos, got down on one fucking knee, and all the while they knew, they knew, he wasn’t really there. 

How devastating must have that been? To be standing in front of someone and realise that they don’t even see you… To be invisible, fighting for someone who doesn’t even know you’re fighting. He remembers them both saying something along the lines of “Choose me.” At the time he’d ignored the obvious and instead laid the blame on his start up, naivety at it’s best. But if he could choose to believe that, who was he to blame Carly for believing he understood the ‘closure.’ Yuck. Still stings.

‘Freddie, I’m sorry… I’m not you. I can’t, I can’t just give it up, I’ve seen what that does and I just.. Maybe I’m selfish, but I can’t do it.” That’s what Gwen had said the night they’d finally decided to call it. At the time he didn’t understand but hindsight was a true bitch and now as he reads between the lines she was really speaking, it’s all there. She wasn’t talking about the job. Sure that was a factor, but what she really meant was the life. She didn’t want to be like him. She didn’t want to pretend to be somewhere and present when she was only playing a part. It wasn’t fair on him and it especially wasn’t fair on Millicent. 

Millicent. The only good thing to come out of this whole shit show. She must be worried, it was now 2 AM and he hadn’t even bothered to tell her where he was going. Last she knew he was heading to Carly’s for dinner. What was she thinking? Was she worried? Was she awake? She better not be awake and talking to Derek. He didn’t trust that kid. 

For the first time since he high tailed it out of the Bushwell he pulls his phone from his pocket. 2 missed calls. Neither from Carly. Hit stomach plummets.

He sends his mom and Millicent a text in the group family chat to say he’s fine and accidentally fell asleep at Spencer’s watching a movie, and hopes to God they haven’t already spoken to Carly or Spencer to clarify. By the only 2 missed calls sitting in his log and lack of messages in the group chat he guesses he’s in the clear. 

She hasn’t reached out though. She hasn’t called. She hasn’t messaged. That’s the more monumental realisation at the moment. There is no missed call, no text, no nothing from the girl he left standing shell shocked in a penthouse surrounded with their memories. First her photos disappear, then he does. He’s really fucked this up. 

She probably hates him, or worse, she probably thinks he hates her, and really he didn’t do anything to leave her with any other impression. ‘Thank you so much for the closure’ he’d said, and then literally walked out the door slamming it behind him, effectively giving her back closure on their relationship while simultaneously probably admitting he was still in love with her. Why else would he be so effected? What had he done?

He’d been blaming her all of this time, but he was just as much to blame. When she did it, she was horrible, when he did it, he was the victim. The truth is, when all was said and done they were both exactly the same thing, human. Carly and Freddie. Freddie and Carly. It was almost comical that even in their ability to rip hearts open, they were still the same.

Gwen had fled and so had he. Both emotionally and literally, as shown by the fact he was standing outside in the middle of the night dressed in a bloody suit, having an existential crisis. It was time to stop running. It was time to stop blaming.

He had a choice. He either chose to walk away once and for all, or he chose to stay. 

There was no choice. 

When it came to Carly there was never a choice. 

“Shit” He needs to go to her. Now. 

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 16

Geralt was busy outside, working on his van, and Yennefer was off in Vengerberg, doing whatever it was she did when when went to check on her house there, so Jaskier, for the moment, had no one to play with. He had already gotten a snack, played some video games, and done a few chores around the house, and now he was bored.

That was why he was in Yennefer's private bathroom, getting up to mischief. The witch had used her Chaos to add an on suite bathroom to her room because "I'm not sharing a bathroom with you filthy slobs!" Jaskier had rolled his eyes. They didn't have to share. There was a full bath downstairs, a full bath upstairs, and a full bath off the master bedroom (which was his room, because a famous bard needs room for all his stuff!)

Jaskier wandered around Yennefer's bathroom. He took her toothbrush and rubbed it in his armpit, used her brush to tidy up his chest hair, took a p*ss and didn't wipe off the seat, and climbed up on the counter, pulled his trousers down, and pressed is a**cheeks on the mirror.

Jaskier stood back and surveyed his handiwork with a satisfied smirk. That was definitely going to p*ss Yenenfer off!

Time to do some snooping! Jaskier began rifling through her drawers and cabinets, opening jars to sniff the contents. He used some of her moisturizer because he was out of his, and oh, wow, this stuff is great! That b*tch had been holding out on him! What brand was this? Ohh, bougie! This is coming with me! And is that the fancy hyaluronic acid one? F**k yeah, it is!

Jaskier did a full skin-care routine, and a few minutes later, his skin was softer and more hydrated than it had ever been. Oh, these are mine now! What else does that witch have in here that she's not sharing?

More drawers were opened and Jaskier paused when he caught sight of a vaguely familiar device. A memory surfaced of him walking in on Yennefer while she was in the middle of doing some leg hair removal.

Yennefer: "The f***ing door was closed, Jask!"

Jaskier: "Yeah, but it wasn't locked!"

Yennefer: *annoyed* "I'm trying to epilate my legs, what the h*ll do you want?"

Jaskier: "Nothing, I just...wait, what's 'epilating'?"

Yennefer: *exasperated sigh* "It's like shaving, but it pulls the hairs out. It takes longer for them to grow back so I don't have to do it as often."

Jaskier: "So it's like waxing?"

Yennefer: "Yeah, except I don't have to worry about cleaning a sticky mess off my legs when I'm done."

Jaskier: "That's what she said!"

Yennefer: "Get out."

Jaskier stared at the epilator. Curiosity gnawed at him. He'd always wondered what it would be like. F**k it. He was going to epilate his legs! And so was Geralt!

It took a little work, but Jaskier finally convinced Geralt to agree to do it. They took a trip down to the store and bought two epilators because they might have been a wee bit stupid, but they were not suicidal, and didn't want to incur Yennefer's wrath by ruining her epilator. She was already going to be as mad as h*ll when she came home and found out Jaskier had been in her bathroom.

Now Jaskier and Geralt were in Jaskier's bathroom, in their underwear, an air of nervous excitement about them.

"It can't be that bad. It's just like tweezing, but with more tweezers."

Geralt gave him a doubtful look.

"I've done a little tweezing around my eyebrows before. It's no big deal. It's like a little sting, but not even that bad. It's gotta be the same on legs. Right? Yennefer wasn't acting like it was painful or anything. She would have mentioned it if it was."

Geralt grunted, then picked up his epilator. They turned them on and held them over their legs at the agreed upon starting position.

"Are you sure about this?" Geralt asked, eyeing the spinning tweezer head.

"How bad can it be? I mean, you're a Witcher! You'll probably not even feel a thing! Alright, one...two....three, GO!"

A chorus of pained f**ks echoed through the bathroom. To describe it as painful was an obscene understatement. It was pure agony! It felt like fish hooks being ripped out of their skin!

They paused, panting in pain, and looking at the small bald patches of skin at their ankles.

"Oh, f**k, my hair folicles are bleeding! Are they supposed to be bleeding?"

"I don't know! I've never done this before! Yennefer's weren't bleeding!"

"Ew! It feels like there's something crawling under my skin! It's all tingling and nervy!"

There was a moment of contemplative silence, where the Witcher and the bard studied their legs. They were hit with the realization that they had made a terrible mistake.

"We're going to have to keep going," Jaskier said quietly in to the heavy silence. "Unless you want to wear trousers in the middle of summer until your leg hair grows back." he said in response to Geralt's disbelieving look. "It's going to look really silly; having one leg with a bald spot on it."

"We can just shave, you know." Geralt said.

"And there will still be a bald spot because the epilated hair grows back slower!"

Geralt, mind clouded with pain, failed to see the flaw in Jaskier's logic. He couldn't go round with a bald spot on one leg! Jaskier was right. They were going to have to see this through. Geralt of Rivia was no quitter!

The epilators were turned back on, and more leg hair was ripped out. It was excruciating, but they kept going, cussing and swearing until both had removed all the hair from their lower legs.

Jaskier was beginning to think,'Hey, this isn't really that bad. Your nerves just kind of give up after a while', until he reached his thigh. Geralt must have had similar thoughts, judging from his startled yelp of "Sonofab*tch!". Jaskier was screaming in lowercase as he ran the f***ing epilator up his thigh.

F**ks flew left and right, mixing with the blackest of swears as Jaskier's epilator reached the inside of his thigh. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt. He almost blacked out, but pride kept him going.

In hindsight, he should have put on a less worn-out pair of tightie whities. It would have ensured that everything he didn't want epilated was safely tucked away. But no. He'd decided to wear that one pair of undies that every guy owns that their wife wishes they would just throw out.

The epilator caught the hair on his balls.

The scream he scrumpt. It was so high and clear that Geralt's ears just gave up and his brain refused to process it.

Jaskier curled over, hands holding his groin, still screaming, and almost 100% certain his nuts had just been violently ripped off.

But no. After his screams dwindled to tremulous whimpers, he confirmed that they were still there, just a little less...fuzzy.

Oh, Melitele's f***ing tits! Ok. I'm ok. I'm ok! I can finish this! Just stay away from the boys!

He adjusted his underwear, took a moment to regroup, then went right back to it.

Through streaming tears, he could see Geralt, teeth bared in a pained grimace, was pushing through the pain and getting the last spot on the back of his knee. The clever b**tard had done the upper part of his thigh first and was breezing through the last bit!

Jaskier screeched and shrieked as he repeated the process on his other thigh, this time starting at the top to get it over with. It felt like an eternity before he was finally done. The room fell silent, except for Jaskier and Geralt's ragged breathing.

They slowly became aware that someone was pounding on the front door...

The officer was just about to knock again when the door was yanked open, and he was faced by two men in nothing but their underwear, and with a bad case of strawberry legs.

"Er... We got a call that there was a disturbance. The neighbors said they heard screaming and it sounded like someone was being murdered... Is everything okay, here?"

There was an awkward pause, then Jaskier decided to go for shock value and told the officer the truth.

"We decided to epilate our legs for the first time just for sh*ts and giggles. Just FYI, it hurts so f***ing bad, I almost did sh*t myself. Now, if you don't mind, my hair follicles are screaming in Morse code, and bleeding all down my legs, and I can't feel one side of my bollocks, and I really want to go put some ice on them."

The officer, made sufficiently uncomfortable, p*ssed off back to his cruiser and left.

"You know you're going to have to finish what you started with your nuts," Geralt said.

Jaskier froze as he realized the Witcher was right. "Oh...f**k!"

Jaskier looked like he was going to faint dead away.

Geralt put his hand on his bard's shoulder, and in an impressive show of solidarity (and sheer stupidity) rumbled, "I'll do mine too. I've got all kinds of topical anesthetics in Van Roach. There's gotta be something we can use!"

Jaskier swallowed, then nodded, and they shuffled off to finish the job.

The looks on their faces when Yennefer had laughed at them and said she could have just spelled the hair away if they'd asked, had been priceless.

[crescentmoonrider]

Aloe

Yuuta feels like his skin is on fire, and Toji-san laughing at his new red tint really doesn't help. Ah, well, it could be worse. For the prompt : Sunburn [ @badthingshappenbingo ]

read on AO3

or under the Read More, I’m not your boss

.

“Maybe, and I’m just spitting here, but maybe fixing that hat would have been a good idea ?”

Yuuta groans in response.

There’s a lot he could say to counter Toji-san’s playful ribbing. That the hat in question had its actual structure damaged, and Yuuta is just not good enough of a weaver to fix something that big, for one. Or that Toji-san’s attitude is not helping, and he would appreciate a little more sympathy.

All he manages, though, is a weak “please stop laughing” and a whine.

Yuuta’s skin has always been weak to the sun, quick to burn and basically unable to tan like would be expected from most anyone else of his class. Supposedly that makes him pretty, but all it really does for him is make summer a living hell.

And the road these past days has been nothing but fields and low bushes and dirt clouds wafting upwards at the lightest breeze. No real shade to be found, even when making the effort to avoid travelling in the middle hours of the day. And Yuuta broke his hat – it was stupid, too, he stumbled while moving out of the way of a messenger in a hurry, and the hat got crushed between his body and the swords on his back.

Toji-san shouted insults at the messenger following that, but the man was already too far down the road to hear. Which was probably a good thing, in all honesty.

But as a result of all of this, Yuuta is just. Suffering. His face, his neck, the little triangle of chest not hidden by his kimono – all of it feels too warm, too sensitive, to the point that even the light touch of his own hair against his skin makes him wince.

“It really hurts…”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Toji-san says, and Yuuta dares to hope for a little kindness. “I mean, your face looks like a camellia.”

Hidden in Yuuta’s shadow, Rika-chan lets out a sound almost like a growl. She’s pouting because even her unnaturally cold existence doesn’t relieve Yuuta’s pain, but that won’t stop her from telling off Toji-san for being too mean.

Not that he can hear her.

All Yuuta can do is wait patiently for Toji-san to find the plant a healer showed them in Chuugoku some time ago, and bear with the snark in the meantime. It’s all in good humour, Yuuta knows, Toji-san just has a sharp tongue and doesn’t like to dwell on painful things if he can help it. It’s just that, right now, Yuuta isn’t really in the mood for that.

Even his ears feel like they’re on fire, for goodness’ sake.

“Drink a bit before you pass out.”

“Ah,” Yuuta startles, “I’m fine.” He smiles. Winces. “Well, I’m not, but it’s just my skin. I’m not dizzy.”

Toji-san grunts. He doesn’t sound all that convinced, but Yuuta doesn’t mind. It’s sweet, honestly. Much better than the fear in Toji-san’s eyes when they got caught in the rain and Yuuta got the sniffles for a while last fall, the way he hovered close and kept trying to make Yuuta take it easy until Yuuta snapped and reminded him he isn’t a child.

And it’s not like Yuuta doesn’t get it – he did get very close to death last summer, even if he never told Toji-san quite how close – but this kind of over-protectiveness… it doesn’t suit Toji-san. Doesn’t suit the kind of person Yuuta wants to be, either.

So, this is much better. Even if Yuuta could do without the snark.

“Just making sure, that’s the right plant, yeah ?”

Yuuta looks over Toji-san’s shoulder, at the long, thick leaves coming up from the ground, layered like the petals of a chrysanthemum but curved outward. The edges have sharp, evenly spaced thorns, and the plant as a whole is a somewhat uniform blue-green.

“Looks like it.”

“Good.”

Toji-san doesn’t wait another moment to grab a leaf and separate it from the bunch, cutting off the sharp edges and then slicing the leaf half through the length and the juicy inside.

He licks his thumb, hands covered in shiny goo that Yuuta does his best not to stare at. Makes a face.

“Gross. Yeah that’s the right one,” he adds, sputtering in an effort to get rid of the taste.

Yuuta laughs, then yelps when Toji-san slaps a slice of plant on the burned skin of his nape, the goo sticking it there, almost cold in comparison to the fire licking Yuuta’s face from the inside.

“You could be more gentle,” he whines.

Yuuta rubs some of the plant’s dripping juices around the leaf, into his skin, trying to get as much of them as possible on his burns.

He sighs in relief.

“It feels really good, though.”

Toji-san looks at him. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Cuts some of the leaf he still has in hand in two parts, before placing them on each of Yuuta’s cheeks.

“Careful,” he laughs, turning around to cut more leaves, “Rika’s gonna get jealous of that plant if you use this voice.”

Huh ?

“Huh ?” Then, “what voice ?”

Toji-san doesn’t answer, instead just prepares and puts more leaves on Yuuta – never as suddenly as the first time, which is nice. But still –

“Toji-san, what do you mean ?”

[rins-batcave]

writing but its not usually how i do

You were always the second child. Even with only one kid, your father had always prioritized the city, the public eye, over his kid. Why it mattered so much, you didn't know, The point was, he didn't care. So now, you were suiting up for another public event, your father all smiles as he tied your tie, even though he didn't truly care. Was your dad a good person, by definition? Yes. He'd saved the city of Cryptid multiple times. But he was not a good person in your eyes. He was neglectful. On purpose, probably not. But none the less, he was still neglectful. It didn't matter at all however he went about it. Sure, you were fed. Clothed. Taught with the perfect tutors. But you didn't have a dad. Just a guardian, just a man who adopted you to further the "goodness" of his own life. But it's hard to be a father when you already have a city to take care of, you bet. But oh, it's so, so, not fair.

He breaks you out of your own mind, speaking up, his voice mixed with a softness and a sweetness you've grown to despise, to resent. "Alrighty there, Matilda. All done! I think you look rather dashing. Alright, let's get going." Another time he'd speak about you like you were amazing, like you were the best thing in the world. But, if you were the best, the actual best, then that would mean he'd actually pay attention, you suppose. It's sickeningly sweet the way he cares so much. The way he has you smile for every event. Not a forced way, but a nudge, a small "ahem", or perhaps even a bigger smile, all reminders to stay in the public eye. The public eye, the city, as you've come to learn, is his real kid. The one he nurtures, the one who you know is cared for far more than you'll ever be. It's very difficult being the kid you know was never meant to be left behind, but was anyway. Or maybe you were left behind on purpose. You don't know, and you don't care. Because either way, you were left behind.

Suddenly, you realize your father is expecting a response, so you mutter something under your breath. "Yep, looks nice…let's head out." As you both leave the room, your footsteps are the only thing you're paying attention to is the tiles on the floor, aligning your feet with the tiles. It's basically the only thing that's been giving you comfort, besides your music. When you listen to music, it's like everything fades away. Everything. You reach to the kitchen counter and grab your earbuds, then pop them in, instantly taking your phone to begin to play something. Every week it's something new. Sort of like the events, but fresher, better. This week it's Wet Leg. Last week it was CRAWLERS. You'll find another one soon, probably. But, annoyingly, your father takes your earbuds and phone, waggling his finger in slight annoyance. "Ah ah ah…today is an important event. Just like every other event, which means….?" You internally scream, imagining ripping your hair out and throwing the carefully crafted mugs from your childhood against the wall. Probably just teenage angst things. Or anger issues. Does it matter? No. "….no music." Your father nods in acknowledgement, offering a quick smile before throwing aside the technology. He's never had a care for it. Too busy caught up in his own world so often, you bet. It's so stupid, but you trudge outside, fidgeting with the end of your tie. As you get in the car, you return to your sixteenth favorite pastime, located in the middle of writing weird poetry(#15) and looking at pictures of snapping turtles(#17, surprisingly high, you think to yourself), which is staring out the window and looking at the scenery. It's basically nothing but waste, nowadays, along with a few stupid spandex wearing heroes flying through the city, an expression on their face that makes them look even stupider, in your opinion. Actually, no, you think. Not in your opinion. That's a fucking fact. They look stupid, and that's that. Other than the spandex heroes out there, you can see buildings. Lots and lots of buildings. If you lived out in the country, then you could totally have a better view. But for now, you stare out the window and Bob's bobtastic barbershop, or wherever this stupid car is now. Your father nudges you again, putting a smile on his face and gesturing out the window to people outside who aren't even looking. But hey, the public eye is still the public eye whether or not it's closed, you bet. So, you force a half grimace, half smile, and stare back out the window, but this time a front one. Whoever this chauffeur is, they're clearly paid well, their hair properly shaven and put into a neat little hairstyle that you can't put a name on. You're sort of jealous…if you had the choice to cut your hair like that, you'd let it go sort of long, just to halfway down your neck, and then dye the inside some bright color: white, pink, green, whatever. It could be a spark of color in the blackness of your hair. But the hair you posses is not long enough for that, so you'll just be bitter while you think of what could be instead.

OMFG THIS IS SO GOOD WTF I LOVE ITTTTT

[scenetocause]

i have been summonsed by powerful forces (princess maxy, nadia)

(nsfw, mpreg, has-a-pussy max)

"Maaaaaaax," Lando's extra fucking whiny today and it'd be getting on Max's nerves, if it wasn't also getting him a lot of extra attention. Lando's main focus for whining, in fact, seems to be him - checking on Max's wellbeing, shooting Matt and Kate evil looks when Max threw up after biting the century egg, fussing over him and insisting on checking Max's overalls fitted properly for the karting.

Max is pretty sure the last one was a completely transparent excuse to feel him up, since Lando's now got his stupidly big hands on Max's hips, through the dress and is rubbing his thumbs over Max's hipbones.

"What?" he manages to say, reaching out for Lando, too. "You look more pregnant than I do, now."

Lando wrinkles his nose. "Should you be karting? Like, that can't be good. I can make them get someone else, you don't have to do this - you threw up earlier. I'm sure Ria'd be fine if we-"

"Mate," Max has to stretch his neck to bump their noses together, over the Mario belly and their increasingly noticeable height difference. "I'm fine. Worry about yourself, you dick."

"You should've had the Peach outfit," Lando's frowning. "I don't want you stolen by Steve."

"As if." Max nuzzles him again, not about to start making out behind the shower building but Lando's clearly feeling sensitive, particular, all that skin-prickly stuff Max knows on him so well. "You'll just have to win, make all the princesses swoon over you."

Lando nods much too seriously for something as stupid as what they're doing and Max is struck, for maybe the millionth time in his life, by how much he likes Lando. Fortunately, seeing as there's going to be no getting away from each other for the next eighteen years or so, he's not being a single dad.

"Can you - like, not if it gets ruined or whatever but maybe, you could bring this home? Not the overalls, just..."

"Oh fuck off," he'd known Lando was having some sort of moment over Max in a dress, has always been into dressing Max up, formed a fucking entire company basically specifically for that purpose. But also Max is way too far down the line to not know he's a total simp. "Yeah, alright, I can wear it later. Lose the Mario suit though, the dungarees aren't working for me."

Lando's face splits into a crinkly-eyed grin and a cackle of laughter. "You don't like me like this? In twenty years this is gonna be all real, baby."

"You are not," Max gives up on decency and kisses him quickly, before stepping away - they do have to go and film, after all. "Ever going to be able to grow a mustache. Not even in twenty years."

-

The filming goes well, even if Max is freezing by the end of it and has to suffer through both Lando's completely excessive elation from winning (man's been on a Monaco podium, get over it) and then being draped in blankets and fed tea and listening to Lando scold the team for letting Max be put at risk of a mild cold.

He tries his best to ignore it, as well as some lingering nausea that karting really didn't help and then actually does pack the dress away into his bag, while he's getting changed. If anyone notices him doing it then they're probably already blind from Lando pressing himself right up against Max's back when he was halfway through changing, to trace patterns on Max's stomach. I ♡ you is a cringey message for either Max or the little jumble of cells somewhere in him or both.

If he was a sensible man, which has to allow all evidence points to him not being, he wouldn't have let Lando Norris knock him up. But he has, so this is his life now.

Max is tired by the time they're on the way home. To Max's house, decisions about how they're going to figure their living situation out on hold until the three month scan, at least. Lando drives them and Max snoozes in the passenger seat, waiting to hear the crunch of driveway gravel that means he needs to find his keys.

Lando helps him out of the car and Max doesn't need it but doesn't fight it, either. Neurotic and annoying though Lando's bursts of caring for him can be, he enjoys knowing someone's thinking of him - especially when it's the person he thinks about all the time, too.

By the time they're showered and stripped down for bed he really doesn't want to faff around with a costume that smells of petrol and axle grease. Fortunately, Lando's either forgotten about it or just wants Max too much to introduce any elaborate barriers to it, drawing him into the bed and settling him back into the pillows so Lando can check over every inch of him for any possible injuries, like Max's body is precious.

He kisses under Max's belly button, mouth open and hot and Max feels his cheeks burn with how much he blushes, undone by Lando loving him like this. They've always played rough with each other but ever since Lando got him to take the test it's been a little more lavish, Lando taking care of him.

Max, honestly, isn't complaining if it means he gets a twice weekly back rub and Lando kissing his tits. And Lando's always been it for him, really, as much as he's sometimes fought it. It's nice just being together easily, with some idea of how it's going to work out, now. Having babies, getting married, Max can stand at the back of the garage, papaya-ear-protected toddler on one hip and tell them daddy's going to win again.

By the time Lando gets down to his clit Max is already wet, anticipating getting Lando inside him. His mouth's equally wet and there's a sopping mess between Max's legs after about 30 seconds, Lando trying to lap it up just making it worse.

His fingers feel so good, a familiar weight inside Max. They know the ways around each other so well, from the way Max knows Lando likes his balls played with when he's getting a blow job to the way Lando can make Max come in about 45 seconds just from fingering him, sometimes. It's not that no one else has ever made him come, Jake was pretty good at it, it's just that no one else has made him come the way Lando does; again and again, each one stronger than the last.

It takes three before Lando's satisfied, moves back up Max's body and slides his dick into him. The very first time they'd fucked Max had been surprised by how big Lando is, how he seemed like the perfect fit for Max and still does, years later.

"Baby," Lando bites at his ear lobe, breathing the taste of Max against his cheek. "I love you."

"I know you do," Max moves his own hand up, to cup Lando's face so they can kiss without bashing noses. "I love you too. We're gonna love them, as well."

"Mrgngh-" Lando makes an extremely strangled noise, tucks his head into Max's shoulder and stills. "Fuck. Fuck, holy shit."

"You're err, into that then, Bob?" Max rubs his shoulders, keeps his legs round Lando's waist, feeling him pulse inside him.

"Dunno. I just like - I'd kind of forgotten, 'cause we were just having sex and then like, oh. I'm into you."

Max nearly snorts because that's incredibly not news but also Lando is very devoted to him. He loves Lando, wants their little family so much.

"Let me, just," Lando shuffles around, pulling out and Max hears his own little whiny noise about it. "Alright, I've got you."

Another two orgasms later - and Max has always known Lando's into eating his own cum out of Max, so frankly it's more a treat for him - they curl up together, Lando spooning him with his hand between Max's legs.

His big, strong forearm is over Max's tummy and it feels nice, protected. He might be the one doing most of the work, here but Lando can look after them both sometimes, at least.

The man in question is snoring against Max's neck, until he shifts a bit and clearly half-wakes Lando up, who just pulls him closer and buries his nose deeper in Max's hair.

"My princess," Lando mumbles, just when Max is falling asleep and he'd - normally, he doesn't put up with that kind of shit, he's a boy for god's sake but well, maybe just this once.

[originemesis]

@chasingrainbcws xxx

That... sounded about right. He was hiding her from sight because he was definitely up to something sleazy --- but something doesn't add up. She considers this as a dark claw fixes a loose lock of gold, nearly finding herself leaning away from the touch out of instinct. Thus far, whenever Adam had resolved to touch her, it had either been to condescend and invade her personal space, or to harm her. Ruby irises track that talon carefully, thick lashes blinking in surprise at how casual and almost... affectionate the gesture seems to be. As he moves, she follows suit, doing as she's told for now and keeping her smaller frame close to his, hidden beneath the heavy curtain of his wing. Singing, she could refrain from ( though not without an immense amount of effort ), but he hadn't said that she couldn't speak --- and she does, albeit softly, in an overexaggerated whisper.

❝ ... If I'm not supposed to be here, then why did you bring me ?? ❞ Likely because he simply hadn't wanted to miss his dinner reservation. Somehow, it doesn't surprise her that even in Heaven, Adam breaks the rules and does whatever he pleases. ❝ Shouldn't it be fine with the Council, since I've accepted the proposal that they wrote ? ❞

Considering the council was operating on the same shared braincell that was more concerned with someone of his title representing it to the rest of heaven properly by drawing up marriage documents before nailing the wide pool of willing celestial candidates (something he'd decided was unnecessary for the majority of virtue chicks who wouldn't besmirch their halo's shimmer to stick around longer than a back stage quickie), he wouldn't put it past them to find his middle of the night association with the hell bitch to be less than ideal- documents freshly signed or not.

Because he's definitely directing her back to his apartment before the ink on the agreement was even dry, and as far as they know- she hadn't agreed to that clause over another. Considering he still couldn't believe that she went that route even though he'd watched her sign the settlement in person, there's no telling what initial doubts the council will have until he can present them with the agreement later. Which means she's a sitting duck for more infernal extinguishing sprinkler systems and potentially an angelic spear if his lieutenant comes looking for him despite his insistence that this diplomatic deal was going to take longer to negotiate and that she should just chill until the mean time.

With her hair adjusted and smoothed behind an ear, he grants one of those stupid cheeks a parting pinch to get her moving again because like hell he's going to wait for her to keep up at the reasonable pace of a miniature archangel. She probably didn't want to meet a full sized one since he already dwarfed her by a lot. "I told you already, bitch ~ clean your ears out." He tuts, turning corners sharply so she gets a mouthful of feathers with each sudden jerk that he's totally doing on purpose if only to make her hurry the fuck along.

"I'm more agreeable when fed~ and since you flooded the place back there, I didn't get my fucking food sooo...consider my agreeableness revoked. Might not even have the energy to send you home tonight~" Wagging a dismissive talon in the air as if her questions are tiring him out already, he grumbles. "They don't know that yet. It's called networking, sweetie. So pipe down before someone hears you and decides you're spending the night in hell whore jail."

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

A week ago, on Monty:

Puppet has a rocket he’s spent weeks preparing. He’s finally ready to get Lunar.

Monty tracks him down, still naked, to get their suit back.

The rocket is in the middle of Nevada.

Monty wants their suit back now because Fazbear’s sucks and won’t ship them a new suit for several weeks..

They take a teleporter to a cabin in the woods.

There is a featureless blue guy there, not reacting to anything. Puppet tells Monty not to look at the guy and that they should ignore him.

Puppet tells Monty to wait outside, Monty follows them into the cabin. The completely empty cabin without any furniture at all.

Puppet insists Monty get out of his house right now.

Monty says they want to watch Puppet strip, as revenge for Puppet stripping them.

Monty talks to the blue guy, who does not react at all, while Puppet is stripping.

Monty thinks blue guy is dead, Puppet says it’s not even a real person.

Monty finally gets their suit back.

Monty gets to see Puppet off on his journey. Monty is very happy that Puppet’s getting off the planet.

Puppet claims to be smarter than Eclipse. And that he modified to the rocket to go faster.

Puppet tells Monty the instructions for starting the rocket.

Puppet is tired of doing things and just wants to get this over with so he can relax with his anime.

He claims he’s doing this for fun, Monty doesn’t buy it.

The horrible thing Puppet did to get locked up was that car accident Eclipse saw in his brain. Which happened on, probably July 16 since that’s the first and only time Eclipse had any involvement in Sun and Moon getting a bunch of lawsuits. Puppet was apparently pinned with a bunch of other deaths, too.

Puppet thinks Eclipse was the one who pinned him. No, he doesn’t have any evidence at all, just a feeling. He’s honestly just looking for someone to blame and take revenge on.

It probably wasn’t even Eclipse, considering July 16 was Bloodmoon and the very first time Eclipse even had a chance to use the body. Not that anyone besides Eclipse knows that.

Puppet simplified the controls and already did most of the prep-work. He thinks Monty’s an idiot and wanted to be safe.

It could take anywhere from a few days to a few months for Puppet to reach Lunar.

Puppet reminds Monty to never contact or look for him again, because that could tip off Eclipse.

Puppet claims the suit theft was to throw Eclipse off his trail.

Monty tries to steal the blue guy while Puppet’s taking off. It’s sturdy and Monty fails.

Monty blew up a Tesla rocket before.

Monty: I’m gonna beat the crap outta you!

Puppet, exasperated: Oh my god.

Monty: What?

Puppet: Try it.

Monty: What?!

____

Puppet: I didn’t use your teleporter, ‘cause- I can hear you from the ground by the way- because it would be too obvious to him.

Monty: A giant exploding rocket is less obvious?

Puppet: It’s in the Nevada desert. He’ll think it’s the US government or something stupid like that.

____

Monty: God I have weird friends

Monty isn’t wrong

Glad there’s more lunar progress!

[jcz-ihi]

Love Fool

First posted on AO3.

Inspired by Gyakuten Kenji|Ace Attorney Investigations, after 1-5, One-shot.

The thirteenth time when Miles Edgeworth cast a glance towards Franziska von Karma, she finally could not stand it anymore. That conflicted expression of wanting to speak but holding back didn't suit him at all. It wasn't like him to be indecisive. Did he throw away all of her father's teachings?

"What's wrong?" She looked straight at him, subconsciously tightening the whip in her hand.

He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. She continued to look at him and the raised whip was about to fall--

"Franziska-"

The sound of the whip falling was crisp. Somehow, from his indifferent expression without much change she actually read a hint of relief.

"Have you been deceived by someone?"

"What nonsense are you talking about, Miles Egdeworth?" She wasn't polite as she whipped him again. "Are you underestimating me?"

"I misspoke," he still didn't dodge. "Okay, I meant to ask if--"

"Have you been deceived by a bad guy?"

She was taken aback for a moment before realizing what he meant. Her face instantly turned red. Her hand had already started moving before her brain had completed its thoughts, but this gave her a gap to think of a counterattack.

"Excuse me, Miles Egdeworth," she switched back to her calm smile and gestured her index finger. "you haven't even had a girlfriend yourself, have you?"

"A love fool like you might as well worry about yourself first."

"Franziska, you're not even of legal age!"

"Fools can only make foolish statements. The legal age in Germany is eighteen. Case closed."

He couldn't say anything in response, but she didn't feel any sense of victory. In the end, this was just a stupid and insignificant matter that had nothing to do with the creed of the prosecutors, her goal, or his life. How could he have the leisure to waste her time and energy with such trivial matters?

However, he smiled, which made her even more annoyed. "That's...great." Although she lowered her voice more than usual, she could still hear herself clearly.

"Great for what? If you don't have anything else I'll go first, there's still a case to attend to."

"Hold it!"

I'm not a suspect who needs to continue giving testimony, she thought, but still didn't swing her whip. "You'll be punished if you continue making foolish statements, you know?" She whipped towards the ground. "What do you want, Miles Edgeworth?"

"You're single now, aren't you?"

"What, what does that have to do with anything? You're single too, aren't you?"

"I just wanted to confirm."

"Are you mocking me, Miles Edgeworth?" Franziska von Karma increased the strength of her whip swing, "Even if I'm not single, what does it have to do with you? Fool!"

"No, why would I..." he said, "At least I watched you grow up."

So he's trying to reminiscing with her, she thought. But their relationship should have ended a long time ago...from the moment the DL6 incident was brought to a close. More precisely it shouldn't have existed in the first place: she wasn't supposed to be his older sister - although the guy would surely retort that he was the older brother, but she was the one who bossed people around between the two of them - in any case things weren't supposed to be that way. "That's your reason?" An unfamiliar emotion came over her, "What a poor argument ......"

She sometimes wondered what he really thought of her. She could probably be considered a companion or a junior until the ugly, bloody truth was revealed, but after that she no longer wanted to think about it. The daughter of his father's murderer, an international prosecutor who had met in some of his cases ...... can these count as relationships?

She didn't know what he really thought of her. She didn't really want to know, nor did he really want to - would make such a statement was not expected by himself, he would not have been some vulgar person who liked gossip. Although he had been flirted with a few times, he had never taken those words to heart. There's nothing wrong with being single since it's just a way of life that suits him.

But things might be different for Franziska, he thought. While the improper relationship between the international prosecutor and the international police officer was certainly rumour, her authentic emotional state was what really needed to be figured out. She was only 19, she couldn't afford to have her promising career cut short by an unworthy relationship. Someone worthy of her would have to be at least a better prosecutor than him, although he hadn't seen one yet that fit that bill.

So he hesitated, searching his heart for the right words to use in his inquiry, and ended up saying something terrible. Franziska noticed his lapse, which made him even more nervous, and it was only when the familiar whip fell on his body that he relaxed a bit. Her expression gave the answer he expected, but he was careful to add additional wording.

Being blocked by her strong argument was a complete departure from his initial assumption, however. Her tongue was getting sharper, he thought with a sense of relief and some amusement. A love fool ...... what a sharp sarcasm. A nice counterattack, but he wasn't going to budge. She was only nineteen and hadn't been to a bar mitzvah yet.

But he forgot that she became a prosecutor in German. Funny enough, he also took his judicial exams abroad. She was no longer the little girl in the sleeveless blouse who hadn't gotten her badge yet. He had to admit that she was now a reliable adult ...... which is great.

Returning to the present, they both fell silent. He wanted to end this inexplicable conversation, but couldn't find the words. She hated it when he acted superior in front of her, and he couldn't have known better. "It's good that your career as a prosecutor will not be affected," is definitely enough to earn him a dozen lashes, and "Can you wait for me?" such dark and dirty thought can not be detected by her, even the slightest bit. She is only his junior. His former junior.

"Miles," she said suddenly, "how many hours of sleep did you get this week?"

"Why are you suddenly asking this?"

"It's true that the lack of sleep has caused your brain in lack of blood supply," she laughed, "It's so unlike you to speak so foolishly today."

"Carnegie's trial is tomorrow, yet you have the leisure to come to me to ask such insignificant trifles ...... Let me guess, you have heard the rumours made by the fools in the prosecutor's office, haven't you?"

"Well, um ......" he moved his index finger, still with his hands on his chest.

"Only fools would take that sort of foolish rumours to heart. I'm the heir to Karma-"

"Until the smuggling case is completely solved you will focus only on this, right?"

"Isn't that what things supposed to be?"

"Then I'll be looking forward to your results," he said, "and I won't concede defeat in the competition of pursuing the truth, Franziska."

All that answered him was the sound of the whip falling. He didn't know how she felt about him, nor did he really want to - and she did the same. He didn't know the whispered words to herself that she unintentionally divulged after she turned and walked out a few steps: please wait for me. Don't leave me again. You will not be allowed to leave me alone again, you will not be allowed to run away from me again. I will find out everything, and the moment the results are published -

You will never be able to refuse me again, Miles Edgeworth.

[timmie-p]

It was an accident, really.

I’m ringing up the last item on this lady’s haul, a can of some brand-name soup. Soup isn’t my thing, but whatever, I don’t judge. Really. To each their own, I guess.

It’s about three minutes past the end of my shift and she seems to be taking her sweet time digging each individual piece of change out of her purse. Fine. Not like I’m in a hurry to get home or anything. Bitch.

Sorry, not bitch. My therapist tells me I need to work on my assumptive attitude toward other people’s motives in non-hostile situations. Basically, be less judgemental. I’m working on it. Really, I am.

Anyway, she finally counts out the money and hands it to me. She’s just short of the total amount and I can tell she’s hoping I don’t notice, but I just sigh and send her on her way. My shift was over approximately… four minutes ago. I technically don’t even work here anymore. Not my problem. Fuck ‘em companies.

She ambles out the doors and I start locking up the place as fast as I can. My cat is waiting for me and that idiot will eat up my bedsheets if I don’t get home to feed him in time. I hate that stupid little shit.

Now, the store is in an okay area. Graffiti, trash, piss on the sidewalks, the usual stuff. Not posh by any means, but I’m not worrying about getting my sorry twig ass stabbed even when it’s getting dark out now. That’s why seeing the dude there was so goddamn weird.

I’m going through the motions, trying each of the keys to find which one is the right one — they all look the same. Maybe someone (cough cough, my bitchass forgetful manager) should start labelling them. It’s fine, I don’t care. Really.

I start hearing this rattling coughing and shuffling behind me as I’m wrapping it all up. Probably some homeless dude with a cold. The guys in the area have learned that I’ll usually “donate” a box or two of medicine if I can sneak it, but I’ve already locked up today and I’m in a hurry to get home. My shit-for-brains cat is going to start ravaging my bed soon and I just washed my sheets, thank you.

I turn around to let him know I’ve got nothing for him and I’m met with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. Really, I swear. He’s got that facial structure models have and his hair is messy in that ��actor in a movie who supposedly just woke up” kind of way. A face my baby sister would squeal at and make fancams for or whatever weird shit she does. The kind of guy that pointedly does not belong in front of this shitty store looking at my very much average face.

He’s all dressed up in an expensive-looking suit with a watch that looks like it’s worth more than several years of my salary. There’s a unique pin on the breast of his suit jacket, probably the logo of some company I can’t be bothered to recognise. And also he’s splattered in blood. And also he’s definitely Rich with a capital R. In a “dude what are you doing here shouldn’t you be gambling with inferior people’s money in crypto stocks or something” kind of way. I fucking hate Rich people.

He’s hunched over, blood dripping from his side, and panting like one of those pugs trying to suck in air through its malformed snout after taking the shortest easiest walk known to man. Probably deserved it, honestly. Wait, no, I’m being judgmental again, I don’t even know this dude. For all I know he’s a perfectly normal, perfectly nice dude who is also suffering from a severe and perhaps life-threatening injury.

I’m looking at him, he’s looking at me. At this point, I’m mentally going over my last therapy session and trying to recall what my therapist said about approaching difficult and unfamiliar situations with an open mind.

“So… you alright?” I open, and immediately I can feel that I have made a Social Blunder. Great. A plus for effort. Wrap it up boys we’ve hit nothing and it’s time to jump off a bridge. Sorry, I didn’t actually mean jump off a bridge, just a force of habit. Gotta keep a positive outlook and all that.

He’s staring at me like I’m stupid (I am) and there’s a beat of silence. My palms start sweating and I really just want to walk away and forget about this interaction entirely, but this guy does seem to be. Dying. Of sorts. So it really isn’t in my moral conscience to just leave him there.

He wheezes something unintelligible and I swallow. Ok, let’s try this again.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. How would you like me to help you?”

Ok. The customer service voice wasn’t exactly what I was going for. But good attempt. I pat myself on my back for recovering the social situation.

“Hospital,” he groans, and wow he sounds gorgeous too, like he could narrate audiobooks or documentaries. And yes, of course, hospital. For the injury. Yes.

“My car is parked just down the block, I could give you a lift if you’d like?”

He again looks at me like I’m stupid, and I take that as a yes.

I ease my arm around him to prop him up and help him walk, and he is heavy. Dude is absolutely ripped and it’s all fucking muscle mass. Whatever. I am not going to drop him and make him walk himself with all those fucking muscles. But I am very tempted by the idea.

I somehow manage to drag him all the way to the car and set him down to catch my breath. I plop him against the side of the car and there’s this almost hilarious contrast between his first class looks and my shitty, secondhand ride. I keep my laughter to myself, though.

I pull out my key and shove it into the little lock on the handle of the passenger side. There’s this little manoeuvre you have to do where you push the door in and pull the handle slightly upwards while you unlock it or else it won’t open properly. It’s annoying but I usually don’t have any passengers so I haven’t bothered getting it fixed.

I adjust him into a princess carry and put in all my strength to lift him up and push him into the passenger’s seat. Lift with your legs, not your back. Well, lift with your entire fucking body because holy shit he is massive and I do not exercise on a regular basis. I think I jostled his wound in the process by the way he gasped but at least he’s in the car now.

I buckle him in and shut the door, making my way to the driver’s seat. I’m just starting up the car when I think to myself that I do not have time for this shit. It’s been twenty minutes since the end of my shift, there is a dying guy in the passenger seat of my car, my sheets are going to be ribbons by the time I get home, and wow I am low on petrol.

This guy better fucking pay for my petrol.

I roll into the street and start down the route to the hospital. The guy is still doing that rattling wheezing which is probably very much not good. Didn’t help that I probably maybe definitely made it worse while getting him into the car. His blood is pooling onto the seat and that stain is never coming out. He needs medical attention ASAP.

The hospital isn’t close, but I do know a few shortcuts around the city.

We’re approaching the first turn when I see a couple of black cars coming up from behind me in the rearview mirror. Huh, that’s strange. There’s usually not many people out this late around here.

I signal with my blinker and start turning when I hear this loud bang and the entire car shakes. What the fuck. This piece of shit cannot be breaking down right now.

Thankfully, it keeps chugging along and I glance up at the mirror again.

There are. Several cracks. In my rear window. Those wasn’t there before, I think. I would have noticed them. Okay, fine, whatever. Gotta get that shit fixed later. I guess.

I’m halfway down the street when I see the black cars turn on as well. They are going really fast. Must be in a hurry or something. However I am also in a hurry because the dude next to me is still dying. Fuck.

That’s when the second bang comes, the car shakes again, I look up and there are several more cracks in the window.

Okay what the fuck is happening?

The black cars are fast approaching behind me. Their windows are all tinted so I can’t see who’s in them, but the closest one has its window on the passenger side rolled down and there’s an arm stuck out on the side of it, fiddling with some kind of device.

Oh my god is that a gun. Am I being shot at with a gun. What the fuck. What the fuck.

I make the next turn, and the man next to me groans again.

“Wrong way to hospital,” he grunts, shifting to sit up properly.

“Shortcut,” I reply tersely, because what the fuck is going on right now.

The black cars are still following me. My hands are trembling and the car swerves a bit. There’s another bang and the shot narrowly grazes the external mirror. Mmm. Holy fucking shit.

The guy is unbuckling his seatbelt, and I do not care. If he wants to fucking fly through the windshield and become a meat crayon on the road when we inevitably crash because someone is shooting at us then he’s free to do so.

My hands are shaking and I can barely keep the car straight. Another few shots miss, I think. I don’t know, my mind isn’t processing any of this.

The man reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a fucking gun. Okay. Great. This is great. What the fuck did I get myself into.

He’s shakily loading bullets in when another shot hits. There’s a sound of shattering glass and the car jolts. When I look up, there is a gaping hole in the back window of my car and the black cars behind me are driving very, very fast.

I step on the accelerator.

As my car slowly accelerates because of course it struggles to reach anything above the speed limit, the man pushes himself up and takes aim behind us.

The sound that comes from the gun right next to my ear is so loud that the world suddenly goes silent.

There’s a brief moment where I think I’ve died. The bullet must have hit me and I’ve died. The world is quiet and I’ve never noticed how loud my tinnitus is until now, when the silence is deafening. The moment seems to drag on forever, silence my fate for eternity.

Then a ringing starts, quiet at first like a fly in my ear and growing until its all I can hear and it echoes back and forth between the space in my skull.

The man is shouting something at me and I cannot hear him.

I spare myself a glance up, the cars are closing in. I press the accelerator all the way down.

We rip down the road, the fastest my car has ever gone in its decade of life. I think I hear the engine throbbing, rapid and intense and beating out of my chest like it’s trying to escape.

There’s another turn up ahead, one of those that look hidden from the angle road unless you know the route well. It’s bumpier but will cut the time to the hospital in half.

The man takes another shot. My ears ring again.

My hands are clenched so tight around the wheel that they’ve drained pale and bloodless. My sweat coats the wheel and I’m scared that my hold will simply slip off. I grip tighter.

There are more cars coming from the front.

These ones are also black, windows tinted, but each is emblazoned with a logo on the front that looks vaguely familiar.

Windows roll down, hands out the windows, also holding guns, great fine wow haha.

I jerk the wheel and the car barrels through the turn.

The road here is much more narrow and unkempt. My car is practically bouncing over the potholes and I’m praying that a tire doesn’t blow. Not here, not now.

Thankfully, whatever existence above seems to hear me and is even blessing its favourite little mortal because the turn was sudden enough that it threw off both sides of our pursuers, at least for long enough to let us gain some distance.

My ears are still ringing and I’m going to have a hell of a story to tell my cat when I get home. If I get home.

“Keep driving,” the guy rasps. “They’ll catch up soon.”

I continue forward dutifully.

We’re speeding through when the whine of a police siren starts up from off to the side. Just what I needed. I fucking hate my life.

I ignore the officer. Fuck the cops, whatever.

And just my luck, the black cars are on our trail again.

I’m so dead. I’m so fucking dead.

The hospital is so close. Three more turns and we’ll be there.

I can make it.

One of the black cars has started gaining on us again, the first that shot at us previously. It’s the same arm as before.

The arm raises to take another shot and the black car is rammed from behind. The arm drops the gun.

It’s one of the emblazoned cars coming up from behind. The passenger in the car shoots at the first black car and it’s a bullseye, home run, hole in one, the car crashes and the logo rolls on forward.

My heart soars; they’re helping us. We’re going to make it.

Then a well-aimed shot takes out my right external mirror.

Ah. Right. So that’s a no-go.

The emblazoned cars continue to shoot both at the unmarked black cars and at my car, while the unmarked cars defend themselves and shoot at us. The police sirens are getting louder.

I make the turn, clipping the curb. Not good for my tires. No time to think about that.

Two more turns.

My breathing is fleeting and it feels like I can’t get enough air.

The man unloads several shots in succession. I think my eardrum has been blown out.

He curses and ducks back into his seat.

“Out of bullets.”

My eyes flit to him. He’s bleeding harder now. The blood is definitely never coming out of that seat.

“Mn.”

What else can I say? Not like I can fucking reload his gun with my mind. We’re so fucked.

My car is making an awful clanking noise and it feels like I’m holding it together through sheer willpower.

There’s police cars coming up in front of us. They’re starting to set up some sort of blockade and I cannot deal with this right now.

They haven’t closed up the road entirely yet. I eye the space on the very side.

Another shot hits and I cut across the road.

There’s a high-pitched, ear piercing, nails-on-chalkboard screeching as the car scrapes against the blockade. I shut my eyes and clench my teeth.

I come out the other side with two less doors and several years shaven off my lifespan.

A breath escapes me and there are police officers shouting from behind.

Black cars ram into the blockade and destroy it.

Not out of the fire yet.

They’ve slowed down, taking damage from the barrier, but are still right on our tail. Bullets fly out around us. I can’t tell how many have hit.

We’re going so fast that I almost miss the opening.

I twist the wheel as fast as I can. Taking the corner, the car pitches and both I and the man are thrown to the side. He, not wearing a fucking seatbelt, slams into the side.

“Sorry,” I mutter, even though it’s his fucking fault.

One more turn.

I suck in a breath. We just need to make it over this last stretch.

A bullet flies through the open back and skims right past my cheek through the windshield.

Glass shards fall onto my dashboard. I yank a hand away from the wheel but a piece still finds itself embedded in my arm.

The car veers and I curse under my breath.

Both hands back on the wheel. Worry later. Drive now.

Zipping down the street and everything burns red hot. My chest is beating so hard I can’t even breathe. Vision is darkening around the edges and everything is blurry. Ears still ringing.

Turn up ahead.

Cars behind. Getting closer.

There are no more unmarked black cars. Looks like the emblazoned ones took them all out.

I’m next.

Right there. I can make it.

The man is still heaving beside me, albeit fainter now.

I wrench the wheel and the car lurches.

We drift, wheels making an ungodly noise against the road. They were not made for this.

I’m desperately spinning the wheel, trying to regain control as my car slips. At least we’re still going in the right direction. Shit.

By some miracle, I tug the wheel just enough, blowing past the sidewalk right into the hospital lot.

Holy shit we made it.

I look at the man slumped in the passenger’s seat. Still bleeding but still breathing.

The fact that he’s held on for all that is honestly a feat of wonder. Perhaps he’s even set the world record for most blood lost without dying. He’s definitely won the record for most blood soaked into my fucking seat on account of being the only contestant.

Cars rumble in beside us. And in front. And behind.

Hm.

Perhaps I should have realised that they would not stop their pursuit simply because I reached my destination.

This is not good.

People in suits start getting out of the cars.

I draw in a shaky breath and prepare to meet my end. My therapist put in so much effort for me and here I am, about to die anyway. Not even on my own terms. And who’s going to feed that little idiot waiting for me at home? I hope my neighbours will take him in once they realise I’m not coming back.

Fuck.

They approach the passenger’s side first, jiggling the handle. It doesn’t open, of course.

“Sorry, dude,” I murmur to the poor guy bleeding out beside me. All this and I couldn’t even get him to a damn hospital.

There’s someone reaching in from the doorless opening on my side. I stare at the towering man who grabs my shoulder, his eyes staring unflinchingly back at me. Fuck, I want to see it when it happens.

Every embarrassing and regretful moment of my life starts flashing before me (woah, just like in the movies) and I’m internally apologising to Mimi for tugging on her braids when I was 6 when the man next to me raises his hand.

“They’re with me,” he chokes out.

The grip on my shoulder loosens.

The passenger’s window shatters and someone unlocks the door from the inside. They get a hold on the man and lift him out easily. Maybe I need to start working out.

“Get out,” the tall man orders gruffly. I hastily unbuckle the seat belt, fumbling with the band until I just give up and let it dangle loosely.

As I step out of the car, I notice how dark it’s gotten. It hadn’t really registered while I was driving, but the sun has set completely and I’m usually home by this time, enjoying myself some soggy microwaved dinner after serving my stupid cat.

They’re carrying the injured man towards the hospital now, and I catch another glimpse at the pin on his blazer. It’s the same as the logo emblazoned on the cars surrounding me.

If they work for him why were they fucking shooting at us?? Employees planning a coup?

The tall man notices my questioning gaze and clears his throat.

“We apologise. We believed you were a hostile entity and had not received any orders to halt our assault. We were to take our leader back by any means possible.”

Okay. Thanks big guy, that explains so much. Really. For sure.

Five points of interest.

One: What the fuck.

Two: Did I get myself involved in some goddamn mob shit.

Three: I need to piss.

Four: I need to go home and feed my cat. And then go to sleep and never wake up. Everything aches.

Five: What the fuck.

I hear police sirens in the distance. Mm, great. Okay.

I look at my car. Or what’s left of my car. It’s missing two doors, all the windows are shattered, and there are numerous bullet holes in it.

A marvel that none of them hit me. No, one almost hit me earlier. My cheek is burning and there’s blood dripping down my face.

And now that I’m starting to think about it, pain is rushing back into my system full force. My arm radiates a stabbing sensation where glass is still lodged and I’m scraped and bruised all over my body.

The tall man has gone to talk with the others. I can see the police starting to pull in to the lot.

A woman splits off from their group and walks over to me. She looks kinda like a professor I had in college, that sharp-eyed, stick-up-their-ass kind of look. I really don’t have the energy to talk, so I just nod at her and she nods back.

“I’ll escort you to get medical attention first. We will take care of any police attention.”

I don’t know and I don’t care to find out what that entails.

I follow her wordlessly and the rest is a blur. Someone patches me up and I somehow make it back home without my car. Maybe that guy’s employees (underlings?) sent me back, I don’t know.

I flick on the lights and the idiot is already yowling at my feet. The remains of my bedsheets cover everything. I fill his bowl up with the entire can of the deluxe tuna I save for special occasions and drag myself onto my bare mattress.

The stupid little guy rushes in, tuna still on his whiskers, and curls up onto me as I pass out from exhaustion.

The next day, I wake up to a sleek, new car and an invitation to become a personal driver. I have a penchant for staying calm and quiet in difficult situations, I’m told. Starting salary in the six-figures.

Well, I can’t say I agree with the evaluation of my character, but it’s an offer that’s hard to turn down. Really.

I guess my idiot will be having deluxe tuna more often, huh.

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[truearchangel]

🕯️

@hells-greatestdad HOTEL RESIDENT OBSERVATIONS.

   THE CLIPBOARD seems to unsettle some people, or maybe Michael’s presence in general does, he isn’t entirely certain. He was trying to keep himself as out of the way and small as possible when doing this, knowing that if they saw him watching them it would unsettle them more. He tries to make it not obvious which person was his subject of the day, but that isn’t the easiest thing in the world to do. 

   Today’s subject: his own twin. 

   He debated this for a while, since he isn’t certain Lucifer lives here permanently? But the apple shaped tower attached to the hotel makes him think he lives here enough that he could count for this. Every single piece needs to play into the process if he’s going to get an understanding of what is going on with the hotel. So Lucifer was the subject and his brother was more than aware of that fact. He was trying to act natural while also overly acting natural and therefore of course, making this a failure already. He won’t tell Lucifer that though, everyone gets nervous when being observed. Given enough time, he might relax. 

   The first note he makes is it seems Lucifer had calmed down greatly since the situation in the palace, where he had cuddled his twin to a more mentally stable state. He was bouncing around the hotel excitedly, trying to keep up with Charlie’s energy and that seemed more draining on him than anything. He gives him kudos for trying though, his daughter was certainly a ball of energy and anyone would struggle to keep up with her. The girlfriend doesn’t even try. 

   The next note he has: Lucifer was still wearing his hairpin. 

   This note was surrounded by a few question marks. He had honestly expected to have it thrown back at him at some point? When Lucifer remembered it was even there? It was situated just slightly beneath the rim of his hat, off to the side and above his ear. It was keeping a bit of his hair pinned back in that odd way he chose to wear it, and he had to know it was there the positioning was too intentional. 

   Lucifer frowned and shifted a bit in place, adjusting the clipboard in his hand and making another note on that. Why wouldn’t he just chuck it at his face? Surely a little cuddle session on the couch when his twin was upset was not enough to endear Michael to him. He wasn’t stupid, Lucifer probably still wanted to run his sword through his chest and scatter his soul to oblivion. But he didn’t? 

   Why? 

   Michael startled when a tophat peeked over the edge of his clipboard and quickly swung it down, tucking it behind his back as he watched his twin give him that sheepish look at being caught. Sighing he pulled one of his hands out from behind him and reached up, poking the tophat on his brother’s head with the end of his pen. “If you want to be more inconspicuous, try wearing something less than half our height. Anyone sees the hat before they even see you, dear brother.” He teases, the edges of a smile pulling on his lips. 

   As an afterthought, he added; “Apples suit you.” 

[simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair]

HAIKYUU MEN AS DIRTY TROPES

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#Includes: Sakusa, Kita, ushijima

#Genre: smutttt

#Warning: professor - student, doctor - patient, DILF- babysitter, spanking, choking, uses of words like slut and whore, daddy kink , breeding, squirting, use of the word mommy, fem reader ! degradation, praise, oral sex (female), power imbalance etc.

#Note: All characters are 18+. It’s hella long I got carried away. I do not condone any of these relationships in real life…. Except getting with a single dilf :) Also it’s got the storyline of a bad porno so enjoy !

Also ITS BACK BITCHES !

Minors for the love of all that’s holy please DO NOT interact , thank you :)

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

SAKUSA KIYOOMI - PROFESSOR

As you sat across from someone who can only be described as a work of art , someone who looked like he was hand carved by God himself , you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. You knew why Mr Sakusa had brought you in here today. After teasing him throughout the week with skimpy skirts that barely covered your panty clad ass and coy looks throughout the lecture , he found himself at his breaking point. A man can only take so much and he ensures to punish the slut out of you.

He sat with his elbows propped up on the desk and fingers laced which he sat his chin upon. The tight shirt of his suit clung to his tense muscles perfectly and did nothing to ease the wetness beginning to gather in your underwear.

“You know miss L/N you should really be careful with who you disobey, not everyone will be as lenient as me”

“Does that mean you’re going to punish me sir?” You asked through your lashes.

“I’m sure you’d like that you little slut. Is that what you want? You want your professor to punish you? Do you want me to bend you over my desk and spank you till you can’t even fucking sit down?”

You’re sure your lip is probably bleeding with how hard you’re biting down on it but you can’t help it. You definitely thought your antics would lead you to the deans office rather than where you actually wanted to be but I guess it payed off. You shyly nodded your head and adverted your eyes.

He lowly chuckled. “You were acting all brave earlier when you were spreading your legs and now you can’t even look at me. Tsk tsk , I guess I really do have to teach you a lesson”

“Stand up” he demanded. Slowly but surely you stood on your feet and awaited further instructions. “Good girl, you keep this up and I’ll be sure to reward you” , the praise went straight to your core and you squeezed your thighs tighter than before , an action that didn’t slip past Sakusa. A slow but confident smirk made it’s way across his face. Sakusa can’t lie, he is a man after all and when a sweet thing like you is practically begging for attention he believes it’s his job to give it to you, that’s what makes him such a great teacher, always so attentive. His late nights and working overtime had made him needy and in need of a tight cunt to let his frustrations out on so he’d be stupid not to take this opportunity.

He beckoned you over with a finger and led you to where you were standing in front of his spread legs. With the lack of space between you and Sakusa you found your back digging into the desk behind you. He placed his large , calloused hands on your hip and comfortingly stroked up and down. “So fucking pretty” he said lowly.

“Turn around for me baby, we still need to punish you and then I’ll think about rewarding you”

With slow movements he guided you so your back was facing him and pushed on it so your stomach was laying against the desk with your ass in the air. He slid his hand up your thighs narrowly missing where you wanted him and placed them on the globes of your ass. With lazy movements his spent his time fondling your ass and placing delicate kisses upon each cheek.

“Mmh, please Sakusa..”

“Tsk tsk , that’s not my name sweetheart”

A few seconds went by until … “Sir…”

“That’s right baby” He could feel his pants tighten more than they already were as you breathily begging him to touch you.

“Please sir , I ne- need you to touch me”

“I’m already touching you , where does my needy slut want me to touch her?”

With reddened cheeks you guided the hand that was on your ass to your wet pussy. “Here sir” . With slow strokes his played with your cunt outside of your panties. He let out a groan as he felt his fingertips immediately dampen with your arousal, you were dripping. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet and I’ve not even started yet” . As good as it felt , he was teasing you and you wanted more, you wanted to feel his fingers without the layer of cloth , you wanted to feel the rough pads of his fingertips play with you clit , you wanted more.

“Ugh fuck ! More , please please, I need more professor” you whined.

Without a second thought Sakusa landed a rough spank on the flesh of your ass and watched with amusement at the gasp you let out. The one slap was enough to redden your skin and leave the faint imprint of his hand. With soothing motions he rubbed the flesh to offer some relief.

“You know how I feel about impatient brats so behave, i won’t tell you again. I want to take my time with you and that was one of many. I want you to count how many I give you and once I’m satisfied I’ll think about whether or not you deserve my dick”

Another resounded smack echo's throughout the room when there’s no response and he awaits your answer.

“Ye-yes sir , yes” you nod urgently. As much as the slaps stung you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wetter. The mix between pain and pleasure was sending you spiralling and the thought of Mr Sakusa finally treating you like this was almost enough to set off your first orgasm. However, Sakusa was impatiently tapping his fingers on your warm ass as he awaited yet another response.

“That was two sir”

“Good girl, you’re starting to get the hang of it”

After a few more spanks , Sakusa finds himself satisfied and can no longer ignore the ache in his pants and your now basically see through underwear.

“Pull your skirt up for me baby, yeah just like that, I want to have a clear view of this pussy”

With almost urgent movements he grips the sides of your panties and pulls them down your legs and slips them into his pocket for later (Sakusas a panty sniffer for sure). He grips the fat of your ass and spreads your cheeks while bringing his face closer. The cool air in contrast to his warm breath has you clenching around nothing and trying to back yourself into his face but the firm grip he has on you ensures you can’t go anywhere.

With slow deliberate movements he gives short kitten licks to your clit and noses your leaking hole. “Oh fuckkkk, you’re so much sweeter than expected baby , If I knew you tasted this good I would have punished you long ago”

“mm-mmh just like that Sir, ooh fuck ! Please please mmh yes” you didn’t even know what you were begging for you just didn’t want him to stop. The teasing already had you so near to cumming and this was the final push. With a few more strokes of his flat tongue on your throbbing clit and fingers probing your tight hole , you found the tight rope in your stomach snapping. You urgently bounced your ass on his face and gripped the desk as he revelled in the plushness on you thighs and being surrounding by you.

“God I’m so close , please sir , I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be so good , just don’t stop, mmh”

The final spank he delivered to your ass was enough to send you over the edge and as you withered and panted above him he continued to lap up everything you had to offer and didn’t stop till you gripped his curls and pushed his head away.

With a smirk on his face, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly turned you around so you were facing him. “I hope you don’t think we’re done pretty girl, I still need to ruin you” he said as he pushed you down onto your knees and ruin you he did.

KITA SHINSUKE - DOCTOR

You nervously sat across from Dr.Kita as he examined your patient case file. You had been putting off coming to the doctors for a while now, hoping the pain in your upper thigh would disappear with time but unfortunately that wasn't the case and the pain became more persistent. However, looking at the doctor in front of you, you couldn't tell if you were glad you came or not because Kita seemed to give off an intimidating yet professional aura and that was the reason your leg was trembling.... no other reason.

Kita looks up from his computer and offers a small but albeit comforting smile. “Ms L/N i'm going to need you to change into the gown on the bed so i can do a more thorough examination to find the cause of your pain. i’ll step outside and once you're done just lie down on the bed for me”.

Once you were changed and sat on the bed, Kita entered the room and moved to get everything situated such as putting his latex gloves on and guiding you to lie down on the bed. “Do you have any ideas of what the pain could be Dr?” seeing that you were nervous he placed a comforting hand on your knee and smoothed circles into your skin. “I’m positive its nothing serious, so there's no need to be nervous but i’d like to do this examination to rule out any possible causes”. His reassuring words worked as you felt yourself relax into his touch maybe a bit too much as you could feel the arousal leak out of you. You prayed Kita couldn’t notice the small action of you rubbing your thighs together. You have no idea where this sudden neediness had come from, whether it was the smooth touch of his hand, his soft but caring voice or the fact you haven't been touched in so long, whatever it was you hoped the examination would go by quickly.

“I’m going to need you to plant your feet here and spread your legs a little, perfect, just like that... you’re doing so well” his praise was not helping as you felt another gush of fluid leak out of your needy pussy.

“So what i’m going to do is feel around in that area and see if i can feel anything out of the ordinary such as a lump, is that okay with you?” He patiently waited for your consent and you gulped while giving a small meek nod. “I need you to use your words love” “ye- yes, that's um okay with me” he gave you a small smile and encouraging nod.

By now you hoped your wetness wasn't anywhere near your thighs as you'd probably die if Kita felt it, he'd probably report you and call you a freak because who gets horny at a doctors appointment ?!.

He slowly inched his hand under your gown and continued his journey to your upper thigh. Once he was there he put a bit of pressure on that area and started rubbing circles into your thigh, noticing you wince a little, he stops his actions and asks you if that’s where the pain is, once confirming it is he tells you he needs to continue to feel for any abnormalities. “This may be a little painful but i'm going to need to continue just in case there's something there that i'm missing so just bare with me love” the pain slowly morphs into pleasure as he continues his soothing motion and easing the pain. You release a breathy sigh and squeeze your eyes shut in order not to embarrass yourself further. “Does that feel good?” “mmh, yeah, it doesn't hurt that much anymore Dr” “that's great to hear but i’m going to have to move a little higher just incase the pains migrated”

His hand creeps up and is now dangerously close to your soaking core. As he massages your thigh you feel a few fingers brush your slit and you know he can feel the wetness coating your thigh. This goes on for a few more minutes, him cautiously brushing your slit and gauging your reaction and when he only sees the blissful expression on your face his actions become bolder. The feeling of his damp latex covered fingers and the way you’re biting your lip has his dick throbbing and the front of his pants tightening.  

“Where else does it hurt sweetheart?” he whispers. “higher” he moves his palm so it lays flat against your core. “Here?” you nod your head while looking up at him through lust filled eyes. “Do you want me to make it all better?” “Mmh, yes please doctor” “I need to take these off to get a closer look, can you do that for me love?” without a word you slip your wet underwear off and throw them onto the white tile floor while bringing your gown up over your stomach. “Look at you, what a perfect little patient, spread your legs for me, just like that baby, well done” You can’t help the moan that comes out of you as his latex fingers spread your pussy lips. “God you’re so wet for me, and i think i see the problem but i’m going to need to take an even closer look” He brings his face close to your core and starts sucking on your engorged clit. “Ohhh fuck, right there, right there” “Is that where it hurts?” he mumbles into your pussy. “Mmh yes , i need you to make me feel better ” “Don’t worry sweetheart, once i’m done with you, you’ll be too numb to feel anything”. He continues his assault on your clit, alternating between sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He slowly probs your leaking hole and inserts a finger while curling it upwards. You throw your head back as curses fly out your mouth. “Shit shit shit, right there, mmh add another finger please!” Listening to your request he adds a second finger, both curling upwards and hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. The pace of his fingers speed up till they’re pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. “Fuck ! Dr slow down, i can’t control it” You grip his grey locks but he doesn’t budge. “I’m going to cum everywhere, mmh, Kita please” “That’s the whole point sweetheart, i want you to squirt all over my face, i’m going to make sure i don’t waste a drop” He doesn’t relent, instead he adds a third finger and the burning stretch is the final push you needed. “That’s right, come all over my face love”. Your juices squirt out of you and go all over the bed you’re lying on and kita’s face, wettening his white coat. You go limp in exhaustion while Kita makes sure to clean your pussy with his tongue, ending his torture with a few kisses placed on your pussy and thighs.

“I’d recommend you come in tomorrow for another check up as there's a few more things i’d like to check out”.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI - DILF

You had been working for Ushijima for a few months now, babysitting his kid when he’s too busy with volleyball and training that drags on. His child’s mother left soon after she gave birth as motherhood just wasn’t for her, leaving Ushijima to care for his son all by himself. However, you weren’t complaining as not only is his child an angel, he also pays very well, which as a university student you appreciate, not to mention you definitely don't mind the eye candy. The years had been kind to Ushijima as he only seemed to get bigger, strong arms that flex when he picks up his son and the faint salt and pepper hair that only makes him sexier. You had spent many nights with your hands in your underwear, fantasising about him and how he would feel, how his fingers would stretch you out in ways yours can’t and what the heaviness of his cock would feel like as it lays against your cunt. You swore that one day it wouldn't be a fantasy but a reality and that day came sooner than you imagined.

It was late in the evening when he came home, his son already tucked into bed and you were preparing to leave. “Have you had dinner yet?” his deep voice went straight to your core as you replied “No not yet, i was just going to go home and re heat some leftovers”

“There’s no need to do that, i bought take out, come and join me and then i’ll get you a ride home”

“oh no, i don't want to impose, you've already had a long day”

“you won’t be imposing, you'll be doing me a favour, i can’t remember the last time i had dinner with someone let alone a pretty girl” he smirked. You chuckled as you agreed, trying not to seem too eager. “Wine?” he asked. “Sure, why not” you definitely needed some liquid courage to ease your nerves so you don't become a fumbling mess. He led you over to the sofa to where everything was set up. “Want to put something on while we eat?” “Eh yeah, i don't mind”.

The food was long finished but Ushijima had convinced you to stay till the movie finished as he didnt want to finish it on his own. He had his arm thrown over the sofa and the light of the tv in the dark room just accentuated his perfect bone structure and olive eyes. Because you were admiring him you missed the scene that was playing on screen and the moans from the tv grabbed your attention. Your cheeks reddened as you saw the intimate scene of a young women and man making love and could feel your once dry pussy moisten up. “This okay with you? I can forward it if you’re uncomfortable” “N-no I’m fine” you gulped. Never in a million years did you think you’d be watching a soft porno with the man you want to absolutely destroy you. You cross your legs in attempts to stop the throbbing in your core and Ushijima picks up on this. He places his hand on your thigh and asks “you okay? You seem a bit tense” “ahah no I’m fine , really” you awkwardly chuckle. “Okay if you say so” his hand remains on your thigh with his thumb stoking the inside of it. Slowly but surely his hand inches higher and higher and you uncross your legs and spread them to give his hand room.

He looks over at you and brings his face closer to yours. You so desperately want to close the small gap but let him take control. “Such a good girl for me” he whispers as he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours. The kiss starts of slow but gets more passionate and agressive the longer it goes on. He parts your lips and slips his tongue into your mouth where you softly suck on it. He lets out a low growl as he grips your throat. “Dirty fucking whore” the sound of him degrading you just adds to the wetness pooling in your panties. “Mmh just for you daddy” “Fuck, want to show daddy how good you can be?” you nod your head while looking at him through your lashes. He pulls you onto his lap and you can immediately feel his hardness. You can’t control yourself as you start grinding on his cock, the feeling of it catching your clit is addictive and soon enough his crotch has a wet spot. “Look at you humping my crotch like a bitch in heat. You better not cum because I want you creaming around my cock not on my pants” you let out a whine and he grips your waist and pushes upwards. “Mmh please, want to feel your cock so bad daddy , want it inside me” “I know baby I know” he coos. “Stand up for me , let’s get these clothes off”

You quickly rise to your feet and obey. Once you’ve both stripped he guides you back down onto his lap where you can feel his hard throbbing member rub against your bare pussy lips. “Look at how much you’re wetting my dick, does my baby want my cock that bad?” “Yes daddy, want it so bad , I’m your good girl, I’ve been so good , please give it to me” you mewled. You’re already so fucked out and nothings happened, you just want to feel him so bad. He chuckles lowly as you continue to hump his dick while gripping his shoulders. He decides to finally ease your suffering and raises your hips and teases your hole with the tip of his dick. “Stop teasing daddy , just put it in” you whine. “Be patient , I need to be careful, don’t want to ruin this tight hole” he carefully inches his dick inside you in order not to split you in half. Your mouth hangs open as he finally bottoms out. He throws his head back as a low groan leaves his throat. You place your hands on his chest and slowly start to bounce. “Oh fuck baby, you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? Been dreaming about daddy’s dick for a while now” “yes yes yes” you chant as you continue to bounce. He grips your hips as he thrusts upwarde fast and hard. “Oh fuck daddy” “shhh be quite slut, don’t want to wake the little one” you nod your head in understanding as you try to stifle your sounds and when that doesn’t work he inches his fingers in your mouth. You immediately start to suck on them , covering them in your saliva as he speeds up his pace and hammers into you. He brings his head towards your neck and starts to suck on your throat in order to mask his own sounds. The only thing that can be heard is the tv in the background with a mixture of his balls slapping your wet pussy and breathy gasps.

He picks you up and lies you down on your back as he picks up his pace and delivers harder thrusts. “Mmh you’re so deep inside me daddy , I’m so close” you whisper. “I know baby , so am I, where do you want me to come?” “inside daddy please , i want you to fill me up with your cum , wanna feel full” this urges him closer to his own orgasm. “ fuck you nasty whore, you want me to fill you up? Want me to make you a mommy” “oh fuck oh fuck , yesss , Mmh make me a mommy daddy” this pushes both of you over the edge as the tight feeling in your stomach snaps and you proceed to squeeze and milk his cock dry. He shoots his cum deep inside of you and doesn’t stop pumping you till he’s sure you’re full. He pulls out with a soft groan and lays his forehead on yours. “You done so well baby, so well” “just wanted to make you feel good daddy” “fuck, you made me feel so good but my cums already dripping out of you and you know we can’t have that” you nod your head in understanding and his picks you up and carries you to his room. He definitely ensures to keep his promise on making you a mommy.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

Note: This is a repost as it was once taken down. I re read it and it was too good not to be seen again so enjoy 😚

;)

🔖: @ashisbored @crystal-lilac @tendo-sxtori

© property of simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair

[xanthezhoupropaganda]

Cass looks apologetically at the dishes and then towards the door. She's too graceful to shift from foot to foot, but Xanthe can see how anxious she is to get moving from the darting of her eyes. Of course she is; Wall doesn't give either of them leeway, even though they're the most efficient team out of all of them. But at least she sends a car for Xanthe; Cass has to use the entrance on the opposite side of town, and Bruce is either close to figuring it out, or has already.

"Don't worry, I'll get the dishes," Xanthe says, with a grin. Cass made breakfast, after all, and caramelized onions are Xanthe's favorite, so the least they can do is get the remains of the omelettes down the disposal. Of course, they're going to be late, too, if they don't hurry, so they can't follow Cass and watch her change into work clothes, either. Which is a shame, because her new pinstripe suit is excellent.

"I have a new contract," she calls, from the other room, and Xanthe is thrown for a moment, thinking that she means this morning's assignment. "The other lawyer sucks. Just a real asshole," she continues, and Xanthe has to scramble to catch up. She might be talking about an actual lawyer - she is sometimes - but more probably she's talking about Deathstroke again. It's just that wouldn't make sense to someone who still thinks she works for Bruce, which Xanthe is very much supposed to.

They were never supposed to find out. And Cass managed that for years - and Xanthe, to be fair, did too - which might have gone on forever if Xanthe hadn't tried to catch her for lunch one too many times. This is how they know that Wall has absolutely no idea they're married, and didn't do that to them on purpose; there's only so many times Orphan needs to be sent on a team mission without Spirit to handle her, and when Cass doesn't turn up for lunch every time?

Xanthe probably should've been more discreet, because they definitely piqued Bruce's suspicions, but they didn't start them, which is the important part. He already noticed strange things about his little girl, at work and with the family both. She's a fantastic lawyer, too, which just makes everything harder to prove. Oh, sure, a lot of agents are covering her workload, but Xanthe's seen her in court; she's putting in enough of the hours. She knows more about copyright law than Jason does, and Xanthe is very sure he's not killing people on the side.

Although he might know. Because they do work together. Would she tell her brother she's an assassin, and then not tell her spouse? No, Xanthe doesn't think that's what's going on, but Jason's awkward enough around them that maybe Cass just makes it out like she's having an affair and expects him to cover for her. Or maybe Jason is an assassin. Trust Wall to recruit multiple times from the same family. She does go on about Kate's impressive marks at the Academy.

Obviously just knowing isn't enough to trigger the chip; no one would program it that way, because letting things slip about one's identity is something everyone does by accident, and it wouldn't benefit anyone to try to hide things from people they're supposed to trust. So, yeah, people figure things out; as long as you don't say anything outright, you're fine. It's just that Xanthe wants to say something outright.

It's not fair, is it? That they figured out about Cass months ago, and she still doesn't know, still goes on about office culture to make Xanthe laugh about the stupid things people want to fight over, and how they needed to ban communal paperclips? Because Xanthe's just got the tiniest store where they hardly ever even talk to Johnny, and both of them would look at paperclipped files in horror.

Except, right, they don't. They have an insanely expensive microphone and an overly precise tone of voice, looking at maps and guiding Orphan through obstacles and checkpoints. Xanthe is too professional to ever give away details - clubs, sometimes, or what book they're reading, but they grew up knowing that so much as their gender or religion is too much of an identifying mark to readily share with people. And Orphan works in silence. It's why they're the best team, and it's why neither of them ever should've notice.

And the thing about Orphan - and Xanthe can't stand knowing Cass must be tamping this down all the time, even when they're together - is she always notices the slightest change in routine. So if Spirit starts getting more detailed with the personal stuff, or changes their speaking voice, or anything, Orphan is going to freeze and recuse herself from the mission. And if Xanthe starts talking too much about work, or trying to be less emotionally closed off, or even lets themself admit, in the privacy of their mind, that they handle assassins for a living - Cass is going to know something is wrong. And be concerned.

And concern isn't the thing that Xanthe is going for, when it might distract from the mystery in the first place. Not that it is a mystery. Xanthe wishes it were still a mystery, because then they wouldn't have to know the answer, either. But Cass just busses a kiss against their cheek while she slips on low heels, muttering all the while complaints that are definitely about Deathstroke's unprofessional behavior. And Xanthe is overly concerned about the threats to kill him that they never thought, before, Cass would follow up on.

"Ugh, the worst part of working for my dad," Cass says, by the door, checking all of her keys in an overly familiar way that Xanthe should've noticed is the same way Orphan looks over her equipment, "if I'm late they say it's nepotism." She laughs at herself, looking expectantly at Xanthe, who really needs to get her out the door and get themself changed and off to work, where they're both just going to have to change again anyway, and cycle through and through until they offer one clue enough to tip Cass over the edge into awareness. If only she were looking. But she trusts Xanthe too much.

Which was fine, before, when it was just, you know, a living. Yes, Xanthe killed people - not pulling the trigger, usually, but there's only so much difference someone can convince themselves of when they remote detonate a bomb - but it was work. It was sanctioned, it was for, they're constantly reassured, a good cause. And Xanthe can put that away, and enjoy eating dinner with their wife. Taking her to the ballet, and then wandering into the street to dance in their fancy clothes. Instead... instead, Xanthe just says, as always, "but, darling, it is nepotism. You know you'd never even have a job if Brucie could remember how to sign his own name."

And Cass kisses her spouse on the way out the door, already, Xanthe can see, if they look hard enough, shifting into Orphan.

Your spouse is leading a secret double life as an assassin, trying their best to keep it secret from you. This has never really worked, because, unbeknownst to them, you are actually their handler.

[tyunni]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤENHYPEN (HYUNG LINE) + CONFESSIONS = ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ (getting confessed to by/confessing to enhypen)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤenhypen masterlist | library

wc: 2k+. warnings: cursing probably, english isn't my first language, maybe some spelling errors, not proofread. genre: fluff, comedy.

a/n: posting a draft, still semi-inactive until further notice. I'll be logged out most of the time. ALSO THAT HOON PART WAS PRE-WRITTEN FOR A DIFFERENT POST THAT'S WHY IT STICKS OUT SO MUCH I APOLOGIZE!

희승 - Heeseung . . .

out of all of them, heeseung has the hardest time confessing to you. i mean, he's a very good-looking guy and has had a lot of people give him chocolate or even love letters for valentines day throughout the years, but he hasn't really accepted any of them...

believe it or not, lee heeseung has never had a date for valentines day before!

so his fear of rejection - even though literally who would reject him - plus the anxiety of failing to make the day memorable, due to his lack of experience, if you do end up accepting his offer is eating him away slowly but surely.

really tries his best to approach you but when he actually sees you walking in all smiley and giddy talking to your friends he gets scared again.

luckily he had told the others about his simple but cute plan and they promised to support him no matter what, even if you rejected him! which they were sure wouldn't happen.

so when jay hears heeseung mutter a "abort mission!" the second you step into the room with your friends he smacks the back of his head and pushes him towards your direction, whispering a "you got this" in his ear as he does so.

and when you notice him stumble your way, he knows there's no way he can chicken out anymore without looking even more pathetic than when you reject him. WHICH ISN'T EVEN GOING TO HAPPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE-

"haha, hey y/n... let me cut straight to the chase, ireallylikeyouandiwantedtoaskifyoumaybewannabemyvalentine?" (i really like you and i wanted to ask if you maybe wanna be my valetine?)

his words are barely audible, but the blush that's creeping up his neck gives it all away. and when he shuts his eyes closed from the embarrassment you can't help but coo at him, shooing your buddies away and waiting for him to finally open his eyes.

which he... isn't doing.

at this point you think he's going to stand there with his eyes closed for the entirety of recess. so you take his hands in yours and lace your fingers together, hoping that will coax him into opening his eyes.

but you were wrong, instead of opening his eyes he shuts them even tighter as his face now turns completely red, ears burning up at the feeling of your soft skin against his own.

"of course, heeseung! now can you open your eyes please?"

제이 - Jay . . .

despite the fact that he looks confident and radiates this self-assured energy, he is quite literally falling apart on the inside.

he's got his best suit on, hair done perfectly to match his rock chic vibes and posture straight as he walks his way towards you. he had missed his chance of asking you to be his prom date before the party. he was ready to come up to you and read you this speech he was working on for days, but sadly something major came up and he had to leave earlier than usual.

that's why both you and he are currently one of the few people with no dates who still showed up at prom. don't get me wrong, both of you received a fair share of confessions and what-nots but you were waiting for that one special person.

the funny thing is, you yourself were going to ask him to be your partner for prom, yet felt so discouraged when there was no sign of jay the day you were finally going to muster up the courage and talk to him. hoping to catch him at the party - assuming he would already have a date because come on who are we fooling? it's park jongseong, the man of everyone's dreams - and finally confess to get over this stupid crush.

your eyes are glued to his figure that's slowly making its way towards you, and just by looking at him you already feel weak in the knees. yet one thing had caught your eye, there was no one by his side clutching onto his arm or holding his hand, giggling at his jokes, or vice versa - making him giggle at their jokes. he was alone. he. was. alone.

park jongseong was alone on prom, unbelievable! maybe you still had a chance to confess to him without making things awkward with his date. who was thankfully non-existent. you had hope, especially since you could see him holding a note in his hand - which you assumed was for you.

once he finally reaches you, a small smile tugs at his lips as he compliments you on your outfit, everyone else far too busy to notice the thick tension between you two.

you compliment him back, earning a chuckle from jay, and you swear you could pass out right then and there!

your eyes dart down to the note he's holding in his hands and he notices the way you bite your lip nervously as your pupils switch between glancing at jay and glancing at his letter.

and jay doesn't know what comes over him at the moment, he simply crumbles the piece of paper that was delicately sitting in-between his fingers and shoves it in his pocket. taking a deep breath in before cupping your face in his hands and leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips.

and when you kiss back, he feels the loud music that was currently blasting through the entire apartment quiet down, the stomping of your peers as they dance and run around matching the beating of your hearts as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

unfortunately, you have lungs and need to breathe LMFAO-

so you pull away to see a dorky smile plastered on jay's face, blush spread across his cheeks as his chest heaves up and down to catch his breath.

"i know it's kind of late but... y/n, would you like to be my prom date? and also maybe my s/o?"

"we literally devoured each others lips like four seconds ago why is that even a question?! of course, i would love to, you idiot!"

제이크 - Jake . . .

i'm just gonna be honest with you, his confession sucked. but it was still adorable. HEAR ME OUT-

he had this whole thing planned out: he would ask jay to drive him to your house, hands full of heart-shaped chocolates and your favorite snacks, a casual but not-so-trashy outfit on as he knocks on your door, gets on one knee, and asks you to be his. BOOM BAM, WHO COULD RESIST THAT?!

well... the thing is, he doesn't even know your address- he doesn't know your favorite snacks either! both he and jay got grounded because they stayed up all night playing video games and their parents had enough of their constant yelling and screaming at 4AM. which meant: no car from jay and no money from his mom.

he decided to buy you at least one of your favorite snacks and take the bus to your house, so he went out of his way to find your friends' phone numbers and message each and every one of them asking about where you live and what you like to eat. which literally freaked them out, because why is an unknown number asking for such... personal information about their friend?!

when he got blocked before he could even explain what was going on, he realized he fucked up big time.

now he's on the phone with sunghoon, complaining about how he messed everything up and probably scared you by sending those creepy messages to your friends. sunghoon just sighs and tells him to confess like a normal person would:

bring you a bouquet of flowers, some chocolate, and ask you to be his s/o WHILE explaining everything in full detail so you didn't feel weirded out.

"oh my god, sunghoon, you're a genius!" "nah man, you're just dumb-"

and he does exactly what sunghoon told him to do. he catches you right before you leave the building and stops you in your tracks, holding out a bouquet of flowers and praying you weren't allergic or something-

"y/n, hey! listen i'm gonna make this quick cuz i know you got places to be. this may sound weird but, i was the one who messaged your friends asking for all those details about you all because i wanted to ask you to be my s/o in the most romantic way possible and-"

you cut him off by pressing your lips against his, pulling away slightly before pecking his cheek and stepping away from him, giggling at his dazed expression.

"so that means you reciprocate my feelings, right?"

성훈 - Sunghoon . . .

you're definitely something else, y/n. who would have thought park sunghoon would be getting excited over some... flowers? he had received them plenty of times before! the bouquets people throw his way after he performs, the thumping of his heart against his ribcage and the cheers and the applause coming from the audience blending together as he walks off the stage and takes his figure skates off. or the ones his family had brought him as soon as he got off the ice rink after yet another outstanding stage. freshly picked dahlias the same shade of red as his cheeks after showing off his skating skills, the aftermath of cold air that had been repeatedly hitting him in the face after hours of practice before the show, and the three minutes he spent on the stage moving oh-so-gently, proving to everyone once again that he is as light as a feather and is fully deserving of the title "ice prince"...

then how come his cheeks aren't red just because of the freezing temperature? in fact, he feels quite warm right now.

he's not too sure why his palms became sweaty the second you approached him, but his hands feel clammy: maybe it's the way you're smiling up at him, eyes full of admiration and pride after attentively watching his every move as he glided against the ice in synch with the song he had chosen just for this performance; or maybe it's the meaning behind the flowers you had picked out for him, red roses... although with a few missing petals, which he had watched tumble down after you quickly shoved them out of your backpack. messy, but cute.

his ears burn at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his as he accepts your roses and promises you that he will take good care of them and will cherish them until their very last petal picks itself away and falls - just like he fell for you.

"sunghoon, you did so well!" - you beam, and he can't help the shy smile that's tugging at his lips, oh god this is embarrassing!

he had just walked off the stage, exhausted and ready to go home yet just one look at you and he's already energized. and the fact that you took your time to come and find him after his performance, arm stretched out as you tighten your grip on the flowers that were previously messily sprawled out in your backpack is far more endearing than it should be, your palm and fingers probably aching from the prickly sensation of the thorns pressing against your soft skin.

"i know you may need more time to think about it and i am in no way shape or form trying to rush you! but i was just wondering... if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?"

he wasted no time, accepting your offer right away as he covered his shy smile with the bouquet of roses, hoping that the red of his ears would blend in with the color of the flowers he was holding and you wouldn't be able to notice the effect you had on him.

park sunghoon has received flowers before, face beet red and heart thumping against his ribcage, the familiar feeling of his hands brushing against someone else's as he takes the neatly wrapped bouquet out of their palms. but this time it's different, this time his heart aches and swells for a completely different reason: for you.

©tyunni please do not copy, translate or repost my work.

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