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#and he is going to bear the consequences for his actions
laneywrld · 3 days
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Oh Baby | part three
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third and final part.
word count: 8.6k
Warnings: tame(er) smut. Pregnancy sex. childbirth.
progress is made, all thanks to your hormone gremlins.
It's safe to say everyone's favorite duo was back like they never left,  just with a lingering air of sexual tension and babies in the oven. 
You were never good at holding water, which is why you told your family and friends about it the very same night. Your friends were the most excited you'd ever seen them, and that was before you even mentioned who the father was. 
When Miles questioned who the father was with a meek voice interrupting said celebrations, Lewis stepped forward with a cocky smirk and a pep in his step that made you want to kick the back of his legs in. 
Instead, you gently motioned to Lewis with your arm thrown out. 
You'll never forget your friend's reactions like a scene from a telenovela; they all gasped dramatically and clutched their pearls. "Oh, I'm going to beat everybody's ass; why didn't we know y'all were together?"
"We are NOT together." You interrupt.
"So fucking?" Miles pipes up, and you feel like you are on stage with a literal spotlight directed at you, with the way they are all intently observing you, including Lewis.
"Not fucking either." You deny, slapping Lewis' arm as to say, help me out here. He shakes his head at you, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"It was a one-time thing that we both agreed would never happen again. This is the consequence of our actions that night." You put your hands on your pudgier stomach. "Yay!" you cheer quietly.
Whit stands first, and with tears in her eyes, she throws her arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. Mori stands after already having been emotional since the initial announcement. She saunters over with a coo of "Aww, mama bear," joining in on the embrace. 
Lewis' boys stand up, Miles put his hand out to Lewis for a dap and ends up pulling him into a hug. "One step closer." He chuckles gripping Lewis' shoulder as he steps back. 
Daniel grins, approaching Lewis with his arms open and ready, "I'm proud of you, brother." He congratulates them through his own wide grin. 
You turn to Lewis with your bottom lip poked out as your friends kneel around your tiny belly. It doesn't even really look like there's a child in there, but that doesn't halt your friends from gently caressing it.
You wipe away an unsuspecting tear as Miles coos gently to your stomach, "Hope you don't get your dad's forehead, lil man."
"She's a girl!" Whit scowls, mushing his face away from your belly.
"We don't know what it is, actually." Daniel returns Whit's actions, mushing her to the right as he emerges front and center.
Lewis, who had stood off to the side watching your friend's love on you and your unborn baby, steps to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He leaves a lingering kiss on your hairline before knocking Daniel over with his foot. 
"Don't call my child an it."
-
Your parents, on the other hand, were a completely different story.
Your full government name is shouted by your mother as she holds onto your dad for support. They both look like they've been shot, and the greater betrayal was that you were the one who pulled the trigger. "Oh, Lord in heaven, please!"
"Ma." You whine, "Don't look like that, guys."
Lewis parents are sat beside your own, his mom is eyeing you up and down a interested look dawning her face. When your dad wipes the suprise from his face he looks like he is beginning the five stages of grief. 
"My baby- I can't."
Lewis' mother slaps her ex-husband's thigh, motioning to the anxious look adorning their son's face. 
"Lewis," His mom all but shouts, "Are you the father?" It comes out in a squeal, one that has your parents pausing their dramatics and leaning forward in sync.
Lewis looks like a thief caught red-handed. And just as you looked to him for support earlier, he does the same to you. You shrug at him, throwing your hands into your pockets.
How does it feel to be thrown to the sharks?
He stutters for a while, so he avoids eye contact with your dad. When his father speaks up, his voice is demanding. "Be a man, Lewis, answer."
You almost feel bad watching as your guys' parents sit literally on the edge of their seats. Lewis has never felt more nervous in his life. Deciding to put an end to his misery, you close the distance between you two and intertwine your hands.
"The baby is mine," Lewis announces, and your family jumps up like they've won the lotto.
Unlike your friends, they don't rush to you guys; they rush to each other. Your mom and Lewis' mom bounce up and down as they hug, and like the annoying men your fathers are, they point at each other with wide grins on their faces before they are in each other's embrace as well.
You and Lewis face each other in perplexity.
He clears his throat, and you call out, "Umm, hello?"
"Aww, my baby," your mom cries, rushing to you with her arms held high. You still stare back at Lewis, and your face is set in bafflement as she presses her lips to your cheeks and then cups your belly. Your dad comes barreling through, quite literally pushing your mom out of the way, and he is enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.
Your mom shouts your dad's name, whacking the back of his head, "The girl is pregnant. Be gentle."
He eases back and holds your face in his hands, eyes staring into you with such adoration that it makes you emotional all over again. "My baby is having a baby."
Choked up you see Lewis' parents loving on him in the same manner, you catch Anthony's eyes and he is unraveling himself from his son and pulling you into him. "I couldn't be any more happier, my girl." He talks quietly into your ear as he hugs you. 
As you talk to Lewis' mom, you see your dad and mom embracing Lewis, and you chuckle as he happily accepts their graces.
As time went on they just barely settled down.
"Oh please," you taunt. "You literally looked like you guys were ready to kill me." 
You watch on in puzzlement as they begin writing Facebook posts. 
"Yes, my darling." Your mother hums. 
"Before we found out Lewis was the father." His mom adds with a cheeky smile.
"So?" your dad motions between the two of you, relaxing comfortably on the loveseat. "How long has this been a thing?"
At your words, the grin is wiped from his face, "It's not."
"Have you defiled my daughter Lewis Carl Dav-"
"Dad!" you shout, groaning again as he turns to Anthony with an incredulity like no other. 
"So, maybe let's not do Facebook?" You suggest.
Lewis raises from beside you sauntering over to the dad couch, he sits on the arm of the chair beside your dad and talks lowly to them. You cannot hear what he says but by the way a grin covers the faces of the entire couch you know he's used his classic Hamilton charm on them.
He watches you as he speaks and shoots you a wink when he sees you trying to read his lips. 
"I think we're going to head back to our wing of the house." He announces and that's your cue to start lifting from the couch. 
You say your goodbyes, giving everyone smooches and welcoming the last of their congratulations. Lewis saunters over to you after doing the same and reaches for your hand. You graciously accept, waving one final time before he pulls you from the secondary house. 
"So how are we going to go about this?" You question as the two of you walk hand in hand.
"However you want."
"I don't like how you just agree with everything I say; give me some input; this is your child, too." You ensure, "I'm open to what you want as well."
"I want you to be close to me during the pregnancy. It'd make me feel better for sure." He hums.
"Can I ask how that'd work? You're going to be traveling for the season. I want to keep my job for as long as I can."
"I want you to be stress free, I meant what I said, I'll take care of anything you need. Please just- you don't have to quit forever; just let me take care of you while you're pregnant, at least."
He looks so concerned with the idea of you working that it has you reaching up to physically push the frown from his face. You stop in front of him and poke your finger on his face by the corner of his mouth.
"Stop pouting," you instruct, "I work for my dad, after all. I think he'll understand."
He breathes a sigh of relief, grabbing your hand again as you start walking ahead of him.
"I also want everyone to know the baby's mine." He adds. "Unless you planned on keeping them out of the light, which I get-"
"Done." You cheese. "I'll let the world know you knocked me up, Sir Hamilton. More requests?"
"Move in with me."
You don't say anything as you turn to face him. The moon creates a glow around the two of you as you glance up at him. 
"C'mon, I purchased the house because you liked it anyway," he shrugs. "You're there more than me during the season; Roscoe loves having you there; I love having you there. Plus, you love it there."
You stare up at him with an admiration like no other. It has him turning his blushing face to the side.
"I did say it'd be the perfect home for a kid one day, huh?" You squeal, wrapping yourself around him, "I'm so excited!"
He lifts you with one arm like you weigh nothing, and you wrap your legs around his waist.
"I'm excited, too." He hums as he walks you into the primary home. The lights are all off as he carries you up the stairs and into your room. He plops you down onto the bed, crouching down to pull your slippers from your feet. 
"I can do that myself, you know? I'm not that pregnant yet." You huff.
"What kind of man would I be if I had my baby mama doing anything?" He smirks up at you.
"All it took was me carrying your child for you to be awfully sweet to me, would've fucked you sooner."
"Always sweet to you," Lewis smiles up at you, "gotta stop talking like that to me if you don't want me to get the wrong idea."
"Mhmm." You fall back into the bed.
Lewis crawls onto the bed beside you, laying his head against your stomach; he pokes you, making you jump.
"Stop it, I'm ticklish." You warn; he only smiles, nestling further into you. "There's a baby in here." His voice is so low you almost miss it. 
"Thank you." You express gently, rubbing your fingers through his braids. 
"For what?" utters Lewis as his palm rubs in circular motions against your belly. 
"For giving me everything I've ever wanted."
"I always will."
-
Whoever came up with the saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder was truly right. Although it was less than ideal, you and Lewis were back as if it had never happened. In fact, it's like the time you had away from each other forced you into the beautiful dynamic the two of you have now. Neither of you wanted to be without the other again.
It had been three months since your beautiful discovery, so that put you at a whopping five months pregnant.
Your belly was now noticeably bigger and rounder, much bigger than it would've been if Lewis' family didn't have a history of twins. And it was most definitely getting in the way of things, literally. 
You huff as you struggle to squat down low enough to lift the box of blankets you packed. Just as you feel yourself get a good enough grip on the box and you begin to lift Lewis is by your side wearing a disapproving scowl.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to carry stuff out of here."
"Lewis," you huff, "It's literally just blankets."
"I don't care, sit down." He orders.
You stomp away from him, plopping down on the couch. He walks out of the front door and returns only moments later, waltzing into your kitchen.
He appears again with a plate full of orange slices, and you sigh as he approaches you.
"Lewis, there's only so many orange slices I can take in a day, buddy."
"The doctor said oranges are a good snack for month five," he pouts, "my kids need vitamin C."  
"Trust me, belly's fine."
Almost like they can sense the presence of food, they kick at you, and you, still not used to the sensation, cup your stomach in a gasp.
"Mhhm," Lewis disapproves, "feed my babies." He is setting the plate of fruit in your lap, bending quickly to peck your stomach. "I have a few more boxes to help them load and then I'll be taking you home, okay."
You can only offer him a puffy smile, your cheeks filled with fruit. He chuckles leaning over to ruffle your hair and he's pulling your forehead to his lips pressing a chaste kiss there before he's walking towards the stack of boxes.
You dreamily sigh, watching his glistening tatted back contract as he lifts the heavy mass. 
These fucking babies were turning you into a horny mess. 
It was the second week of June. A week later than the deadline, you promised Lewis that you'd move into his home. Well, your home now, too.
It was safe to say that Lewis meant business. You had spent the last few months bouncing from country to country, attending every race with him and basking in the free time with each other, which he had before and after races. 
When you opted to skip the Canadian Grand Prix under the pretense that you would go home to oversee the movers, he hesitantly drove you to the airport the day before qualifying. 
But when you got home and your preganacy brain got to you, you realized you scheduled your movers for the wrong saturday. You could've sworn Lewis was having a panic attack with the way he was in hysterics over the facetime call as you explained your situation.
He had booked himself a very late flight after his race and appeared at your doorstep with an armful of plant-based treats and a carton of strawberry fro-yo. "It's good for the babies." He smiled sheepishly as he rushed in. 
And here you were now, big and bored, spread across the couch as Roscoe snuggled into your side. You don't remember falling asleep next to your furry friend, but as Lewis gently shakes you awake with an adorable twinkle in his eyes you can't even be bothered to be irritated.
"Hey, mama," he coos. "You ready to head out?"
You nod, still groggy, swinging your legs over the couch and preparing to stand. Lewis catches you off guard as he swoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style with ease. He calls for Roscoe as he slips through the front door. 
He opens the passenger side door of his car and sits you down softly, reaching over you to grab the seatbelt. And he's so close to you that it has your heart hammering when his hand swipes against your chest to pull at the belt. 
"I'll be back in a second, going to lock up here."
He smirks as he closes the door and you see him taking his precious time to make it back into your former home. 
You were no fool; truthfully, you were fully aware of the sexual tension that hung between you and Lewis since the night of his birthday. 
There were lingering touches and gazes that you were sure were sexually charged. You've even noticed Lewis' impure reactions to you, and it made your brain race with questions.
The driver's side door opening drew you from your thoughts as Lewis appeared this time covered in a white tee. You will away your disappointment and reach for his phone to play some music. When you do you see a message from a saved contact.
Marie
Isn't it about time for you to come see me again?
"You've got a message." You tell him nonchalantly even though your heart aches.
"From who?"
You try to hand him the phone, but he waves it off, reversing the car. "Can you read it to me?"
"Marie, she says, and I quote, Isn't it about that time for you to come see me again? You late to a link, Lew?" You laugh even though there isn't shit funny to you.
"You can block her." He declares casually. 
"Huh?"
"Block her for me." He orders, but he still hasn't turned to look at you. "She was just someone I saw when I was in Canada."
"Lewis, you don't have to end your fun on my account; I'm the pregnant one. You do know that you don't have to."
"Yeah." He pushes out hoarsely. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. In a way, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. Life with Lewis has felt so extra domestic lately. It was almost like the two of you were in a relationship, minus the physical affection. And even then, that physicality was there; you two just never kissed or, well, had sex.
You wondered if he felt it the same way you had.
But then the thought lingers in the back of your head: did he see her when you left to come home?
The way he was acting oddly uncomfortable with the conversation gave you your answer, and in the end, you couldn't fault him for it.
You do as he instructs, clicking Marie's contact and blocking her number, and then you continue on with your initial mission and scroll through Lewis' Spotify until you find music to your liking.
The rest of the drive is silent except for the soft melodies escaping his speakers.
When you pull into Lewis' driveway, he parks, turns off the car, and hurries to your side, opening the door before you even have the chance to do so. He opens the backdoor and holds onto your hand. "Roscoe, c'mon boy."
He leads you into the home like you haven't passed through the very same doors a million times before. 
"Which room did they move me into?" You question making your way upstairs.
"Oh," Lewis pauses, "I figured you'd be with me, in mine."
"Oh, okay."
You walk past him and further up the stairs as he trails behind you.
When you enter his room you beeline straight into his closet, well you guys' closet and sure enough there are more of your belongings taking up space. 
You stand on your tiptoes to reach for one of his tee shirts. He is behind you in an instant, one hand holding your hip firmly and forcing your feet back onto the ground. The other reaches up and grasps the shirt you had been aiming for. 
When you turn to take the shirt from him, he once again gives you the same disapproving gaze he'd given you earlier.
"Oh God, Lewis. I can't even get on my tiptoes anymore?" You question, pulling the shirt from his grasp.
"You could've tipped over." He argues, following you out of the closet. "You want a bath or a shower tonight?" He queries, already heading into the bathroom.
"A bath, please; my body is killing me." 
"Put this on," he orders, tossing you your robe. 
You strip from your shorts and tee-shirt throwing the robe on and waiting patiently for Lewis to emerge from the bathroom. 
When he does, he's shirtless, and the sweats are hanging low.
"I've got your bath running. Sit down," he orders, pointing to the bed. 
"Why?" you question, but you're already moving to the bed and plopping down. 
"Why do you question everything?" He chuckles. And he is slipping behind you in an instant, his hands instantly moving up to knead at your shoulders.
You can't help the moan you let out. "Fuck, that feels great. Thank you."
"It's the least I can do, letting my youngsters beat you up all day."
You can only chortle as his hands move along your back. 
"Gonna come out feisty, like you."
"I am not," you argue.
"yeah, okay." He whispers, his hands traveling lower and lower. His hands are gripping your sides firmly as his thumbs massage masterfully into your back.
"Fuck, Lewis." You mewl.
"Feels good?"
"Yeah." 
You almost cry as you feel him lifting behind you, but when he pushes you onto your back gently and cradles your legs, the whine in your throat is replaced with a nervous gulp. 
His hands caress your thighs, moving up and down expertly, and you bask in the comfort.
"I didn't sleep with her in Canada, never even saw her this year."
"Oh," you murmur with your eyes closed. On the outside, you were calm, but mentally, you were shrieking tears of joy. 
"Haven't been sleeping around." He announces again. 
When you say nothing, he persists, "Haven't been with anyone since you."
You know Lewis so well that you can predict his face even before you open your eyes.
His voice sounds a bit gravelly and shaky, and you know he's peering up at you through his perfect lashes, waiting to gauge your reaction. 
So when you open your eyes and see him hovering over your legs exactly as you imagined, you can only shoot him a purposeful smile.
"I figured. You've spent all of your time with me." You shrug. He nods relief washing over him. In all honesty he was happy that you recognized the switch in him. Recognized that all of his focus was soley on you and your unborn babies, who you've nicknamed belly. 
"Five months is a long time to go without sex." You declare, and he bobs his head to the side, 
"Not really, not for me. What about you?" 
He feels his heart leap with joy at your next words.
"I haven't slept with anyone else since you either. I've gone longer without sex, so five months would've been easier if I wasn't lugging around two hormone gremlins." 
You both share a laugh as you motion to your round belly. 
"You're suffering then?"
"Suffering like a motherfucker." You huff.
"I can fix that."
You sit up, coming face to face with him; he stares at you intensely. It was your idea, not to mention the night you two had shared, as well as your doing, to solidify the fact that you two would never sleep together again.
However, your emotions were running, and your hormones were at an all-time high, so could anyone really even blame you for pulling his mouth to yours in a searing kiss?
Like the time before, it's like Lewis is ready for you. He pushes you back down, his legs still holding him above you. This time, Lewis takes the initiative, spreading your mouth open and entering like it's home. One of his elbows is being used as leverage to hold him above your bump. His other hand has your jaw in a tight grip, holding you in place.
Your hands are exploring his body. Traveling the expanse of his chest to his back, anything you can reach. 
He disconnects his mouth from yours, his head turning towards the bathroom. "Shit, sorry."
He stands, shooting you a sorrowful look as he beelines into the washroom.
When he appears again, he is looking at you with hungry eyes, but his words are so domestic that you are ready to jump his bones.
"Made your bath too hot. Got time to let that cool down."
You smirk at him, beckoning him over. You're both sitting angled towards each other and just as you move forward to touch his lips with your own he is moving his head to the side forcing you to peck the corner of his mouth.
You lean back with furrowed brows. "What was that?"
"I want to clarify something first, this time. So we won't have a repeat of last time."
Damn, you scream to yourself. You were already extremely horny, and now you'd have to sit and listen to him declare that this was a means of pleasure only. Which in return would most likely turn you off. So yay, no life-altering dick for you tonight.
"Go on then." You wave your hand, and Lewis laughs.
"Patience, you horny beast." 
You gasp, thumping his head.
"But really, I, um, wanted to let you know this for a while. It's been on my mind even heavier since my birthday."
"Okay," 
"I love you." He blurts, "and not in the conventional friendship way, you're my best friend but I love you more than that. And I have for as long as I could remember."
You feel like you've been freed from hell's gates; everything in you feels so much lighter, so much more merrier. 
Like always, when Lewis tries to find the words to say, his head is tilted downwards to the side as he works through what to say. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he can't find it in him to look at you quite yet. He has to say how he feels now, or he'll never say it.
"I'm the man I am today because of you. You've been with me every step of the way. You've never turned your back on me or gotten sick of me; you've been everything I've ever wanted from the beginning. I've tried to fill the void of not having you with other... distractions, should I say. And it never made me forget about you, never made me want you any less, always made me want you even more."
You choke up at his words. This was all you've ever wanted to hear spoken to you.
"I love you and I feel like I have ever since I've been able to have complex emotions. You are my childhood dream. Over the racing and the luxury lifestyle, over anything. I've always wanted you more than anything. I meant every word I said to you on my birthday, and I'm taking accountability now for the argument. I wanted to hear you say that you meant the words you said to me, like I meant the words I said to you. I should have just admitted it. But I didn't, and I was a fool; I regret it every day. But I love you all the same."
He peers up at you through his lashes and through his own teary eyes he can see the tears bubbling over the surface as you poke out your bottom lip in your classic pout.
"Oh, Lew," you whine, wrapping him in such a tender embrace. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those words."
He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, and you can feel wetness glide down your collar.
You grasp his head in your hands, cupping his cheeks so that you can see him eye to eye.
"I love you," you state. "More than the entire world, I've always told you that, and I've always meant it."
His lips twitch, and his eyes soften. Finally, he breaks into a smile. "How much I love you is unexplainable, Lew. I've been fighting myself forever about it, frustrated that I'd never see anyone like I see you. I've been settling because I thought I couldn't have you. You're all I've ever wanted. And I meant what I said that night, too. I was made for you and only you, always only ever been yours. No one has had my heart but you."
This time, the kiss is passionate and slow. You taste saltiness as you succumb to each other. You separate with a gasp, hand coming down to soothe your stomach. "They're beating me up again." You whisper, watching as their tiny feet nudge against your stomach.
Lewis bends down, pressing pecks to your bulging belly, "Think they're just celebrating."
You watch from above with a loving smile on your face. "My little family." You coo, bringing your hand up to rest in Lewis' hair.
"I'm going to marry you, you know that, right?" Lewis peers up at you. 
"I sure would hope so." And you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. 
"They're not stopping." He announces, his hand covering your own on your belly.
"They always get excited when you're close to me." You admit. 
His eyes crinkle at your words, and his mouth spreads into a grin.
"I'm happy to be with you guys, too," he coos to your gut, "but we have to let Mama relax, okay." At his words, the thumps from inside of you come to a halt, and you and Lewis marvel at each other.
"Wow," you whisper.
"Come on." He is standing from the bed, holding his hand out for you. 
He helps you stand from the bed, gently pulling you into the bathroom.
When you're inside, he faces you towards the mirror. He unclasps the necklace sitting it onto the bathroom counter and slowly his hands travel to your front to untie your robe. It falls off of your shoulders and he proceeds to drag it down your arms and from your body.
You stare at him through the mirror with no shame as he trails his eyes along your body.
"Most beautiful woman in the world." He hums. You're standing in front of him naked as he reaches past you to drop your now discarded robe beside your necklace.
As he does so, he presses lingering kisses to your neck. 
He steps back, holding out his arm to direct you into the bathtub.
"Get in with me?" You suggest as you notice him standing off to the side. 
Lewis curses himself for feeling like a shy virgin around you every time you even remotely flutter your eyes at him. 
"Please." You add submerging yourself into the warm water.
Lewis slips from his sweats, easing into the tub at the other end.
"Remember when we used to have baths together as kids?" You reminisce, blowing a pile of bubbles at him.
Lewis leans back, his arms dangling over the edge. "Simple times."
"You remember when you pooped?" You tease, leaning forward.
Lewis splashes you a tiny bit, bubbles landing on your face. "That was you," he denied.
"Big fat liar." you cackled. 
Lewis sees you inching towards him like a tiger on the prowl. You're in his lap before he knows it, your arms locked around his neck. He wraps his own around your waist.
No more words are spoken between you two. You lift your soapy hand and tilt his head up to you, pressing your mouth to his.
Lewis groans into your mouth as you settle over him.
"Want you so bad." You confess, your lips trailing from his mouth to his jaw and down into the crevice of his neck.
Your hand reaches down between the two of you, and you smile against his skin as you grip him.
So hard already.
Lewis throws his head back against the porcelain as you wrap your hand around him in a snug grasp. 
You're in his ear saying some of the most obscene words he's ever heard as you sit on top of him, tugging him. He can feel your belly rubbing against his, and it's driving him mad.
"Want to make love? Can we do that, Lewis? Make it even better than the last time."
Lewis gasps out his words as you sit back on his legs and use both of your hands to twist and tug on him. He bites on his bottom lip and grips you tighter. "Fuck, yes. Please"
You can only smile at him as you observe his resolve crumbling. You don't stop even as he begins to spasm and continually moan out your name. He grunts one last time before it transforms into a fit of masculine whimpers. He literally falls apart in your hands as you massage him through his release. 
"Got another one in you?" You ask, already positioning yourself over him.
He opens his eyes, pupils blown and wild. And then his bitten and swollen lips spread into a dopey smile.
You give him a peck; widening said smile before you line him up at your entrance. The smile is wiped from his face as his facade once again contorts to one of pure pleasure.
You can only gasp and move your grip to his shoulders as you sink onto him inch by inch until you feel him nestled tightly into you.
"Fuck." He groans.
You ease your body up and down over him slowly, he's so fucking big.
You moan as you continue your slow pace. You want to take your time with him. But it was getting increasingly hard feeling that delicious stretch every time you lifted over him.
Lewis hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sank down onto him. He is staring at you like you hung the sun, moon, and the stars yourself.
He uses both of his hands to pull your mouth towards his, "I love you." He breathes into you, pressing passionate pecks onto your lips. He holds your face close to his, maintaining eye contact as you roll over him. 
Your mouth drops open as you feel him lift his hips over and over. Between his eyes piercing into you and the slow, languid strokes he's giving you, you weren't sure what would throw you over the edge first. 
You moan quietly as you feel the blaze building in your belly. He's so big that it feels like he's entering you for the first time all over again.
You feel inebriated by him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. He's still just as vocal as he was the first time, and it's putting you in overdrive.
Lewis is thrusting up into you with a force that has the breath leaving your lips in sharp pants with every re-entry.  
Your foreheads fall against each other, both of you watching your bodies drive against the water.
Lewis is lifting you from his lap like you weigh nothing. He turns you around to face the opposite way. You gasp as he pulls your arms up and directs you to hold onto the end of the tub in front of you. You're on your knees, arms holding your upper body out of the water. You feel his knees slide in between your spread legs, and his hands caress up and down your wet back. 
One hand settles on your shoulder, the other on your waist, and then he is sliding into you slowly. You hang your head, letting out a deep breath, "fuck." you cry out as he strokes at such a deliberately slow momentum.
As he pushes into you, his grip on your shoulders forces you back at the same time. He's going so slow but getting so deep that it has you tightening your grip. 
When he hits your spot, you lurch forward.
He pulls you back onto him, his hand tightening against your waist.
"Don't run. Stay with me." He orders, his voice is deep and raspy. "This what you wanted, remember?"
You nod your head, eyes closing shut as your thighs quiver. "Oh god."
"Want to make you feel better." He moans. "I was waiting for you to let me see this pretty pussy again." He hums, and you feel his hands spread you apart.
"So fucking pretty, so tight."
It was like he was tormenting you, giving you an inch and then taking a mile every time he pushed into you slowly just to have you wallowing for more when he pulled himself out.
"You're being greedy, mama." He chuckles as you push yourself back onto him. "take what you want then."
At his words, you begin to swivel your hips back at a much quicker pace, feeling his pelvis brush against your ass with every motion.
"C'mon, take it." he grunts. "that's right, want it so bad."
You pull yourself forward, only to spiral back into him repeatedly. Lewis is a mess behind you, his hands reaching up to hold his braids from his face. He kneels there and allows you to use his body in any way you please. 
He takes in an unsteady breath when you tighten around him. As you drag your pussy over him, he feels himself being tugged with you. "So tight." he moans, "don't even wanna let me go."
He pulls you up by your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, and begins hammering into you over and over. One hand travels to your throat, and his grip is temperate. 
"All you needed, huh? Feel better already?"
You nod your head, yes, head falling back onto his shoulder. He pummels into you stroke after stroke until he feels it. You constrict around him, hands coming to grip his arm, and you moan his name over and over. 
He doesn't show you any mercy. He keeps up his fast pace as you writhe in his arms. His head falls, and as he feels himself come undone, he bites down on your shoulder with a growl that lights your body on fire all over again. You feel him spurt into you, and you whine as he nestles himself into your core further. 
After a while, Lewis pulls himself from your gut with a hiss. He reaches down and unplugs the drain. He sits, spreading his legs and pulling you in between them. When you're nestled against his chest, he sighs, once again placing his hand on your neck to angle your face towards his. He places a sensual kiss on your lips before letting you go with a smile.
"Should I run us a bath, or do you want to hop in the shower for a quick wash?"
You turn to the left, observing the standing shower, and you scoff. "you've ruined my legs, Lew; I couldn't stand in there if I wanted."
"Bath it is." He grins, already reaching for the knobs.
"Plus, I want to sit with you like this for a while. Bask in this."
"I love you," he expresses, "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."
_
Spoiler alert: he never did. As the days went on and turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and Lewis never changed his affections. You two were in a constant honeymoon phase, which you were sure was permanent.
You two were perfect for each other in every sense and made each other whole. 
The dynamics that made you two the perfect friends bled over into your relationship, and things were flawless, to say the least.
Until, you felt a popping feeling and then a gush of water fall between your legs. Lewis was on his way home from the airport having left to race in Singapore he was relieved that he'd be back three days before your expected due date.
But when he gets a call from his best friend and hears your cranky voice in the background, his heart hammers with nerves. 
"Miles, I swear to fucking god," he hears you groan. "if he doesn't have his high yellow ass to the hospital before I push these goddamn babies out of me, I will kill him. Tell him I will kill him."
"You heard her, man," Miles stammers. He hears commotion over the phone, and he gives up his useless attempts to grab either of your attention.
"Oi Miles!" He hears a slap in the background. "Oh my fucking god," you cry out. "Where is Whit? I don't want your help, fucking men."
Miles reappears on the screen; he looks disheveled and like he's just been in a cat fight, "Hey, brother." he pants. "I'm trying here, just how far are you?" 
"Lewis leans forward, seeing his ETA on his driver's screen. "Only ten minutes. Is she okay?" His voice is full of concern, and Miles squawks.
"Brother, ten minutes is too long. She just absolutely beat my ass for putting the wrong treats in the bag. There are a million gummies in here. How am I sup-"
"Gushers, Miles. On the top shelf of the pantry behind the rice cakes."
"Why the hell are there gushers behind rice cakes?" He cries out, rushing to the pantry. Lewis sees you in the background as Miles breezes by.
You stand in the middle of the living room face set in a pout one hand grasping the a bag of organic gummies and the other holding your phone to your ear. 
"Whit!" He hears you cry out, "I'm about to have these fucking babies alone with fucking Miles! Fucking Miles! And he gives me fucking Annes organic fruit snacks, Whitney! Why the fuck would I want organic candy? And Lew hid the gushers, and he's not going to be here in time, and I don't know where he put them."
Miles drops his jaw, halting his reach for the treats. "Hey, I'm trying my best! I want the best for you and my godchildren. I'm trying here!"
"Your trying isn't enough; obviously, I need the god mom. Whit! Fucking men, can't even find my fucking candy." You call out again. 
"Ugh- did she just stomp away from me." 
The call disconnects, and Lewis lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls into his neighborhood. He rushes out of the car, running up the steps of you guys' home. When he enters the foyer, he rushes to where he saw you last on the phone. Only you're not standing in the living room in distress. It's Miles slumped onto the couch with a family pack of gushers in his lap. He notices the two gusher wrappers beside his friend, and he storms up to him, snatching the box and slapping the side of his head.
"Where's my baby?" 
"Upstairs, y'all are going to learn how to appreciate me one day. I'm the godfather to your children-"
Lewis smacks his teeth, rushing up the stairs and into your bedroom. He sees you lugging your baby bag onto the bed, and he rushes over to you, pulling it from your grasp. 
"Hey bunny, I'm here." 
Your lip wobbles as you look up at him, and you let out a relieved cry. Lewis opens his arms to embrace you, and you quickly pull the box from his hands, stuffing it into your bag. 
"I was looking for these." You cried.
Lewis, used to your pregnant shenanigans, allows you to cry tears of relief for the sudden appearance of your after-labor treat. It's all you'd been asking for for weeks, but your doctor had you on a strict diet.
"Bunny," he persists, his arms open. You sniffle, stepping into his embrace.
"How are you feeling?"
"My vagina hurts, and I was scared you weren't going to make it." 
He chuckles, holding you close to him, "always going to make it when it comes to you guys."
It's safe to say your mood didn't get any better when you made it to the hospital. 
Lewis was by your side as you held onto his hand for dear life.
"Baby," he coos, "you're doing great."
"Oh my god," you wince, pulling your hand from his as you clutch the sheets. "Get the fuck away from me."
He looks baffled as you curse up a storm.
Lewis takes a step back only to be nudged forward again by the doctor. "Trust me, she'll murder you if you get away from her."
He holds onto your hand again, using the towel to wipe the sweat from your hairline.
Even now as you take in deep breaths and hang your head like you're about to die, Lewis think you are beautiful. You're glistening with sweat and throwing out words that would make a pastor faint but you're still beautiful with your freshly done birthing braids and bewildered face.
"Oh fuck this! Count the shit, measure the shit, whatever, and check again. I don't care if I'm not dilated enough; make it enough! Get these babies out of me."
You were regretting your decision to go all-natural as another contraction rippled through you. You let go of the sheet and grasp Lewis' hand again.
You look up to him, and he is staring at you in pure adoration. "I promise, you've got this." He encourages.
You feel tears of relief pool as your doctor let's out a direct order. "And we're there, when I get to three you push, okay."
You only nod as Lewis crouches down, "Push like hell, bunny."
You don't count how many times you hear him count to three or how many agonizing pushes you give until you hear the first cry. You're momentarily distracted as you watch them hold your baby into the air. 
"Come on, Mom, got to keep going," your doctor orders. 
You exhale, taking another deep breath as you push again. Lewis remains by your side, holding your hand and coaxing you through the pain.
"You're doing so great, bunny. So proud of you. We're about to meet our babies; we just have to push a little bit more." 
His words are all you need to get through another insufferable ninety seconds before you hear an even louder cry. 
Lewis kisses the top of your head as you fall back in exhaustion. "So proud of you, baby, hmm. I love you."
You're no longer the angry woman you were twenty minutes ago. You're looking up at Lewis with tired eyes that still glow with love and excitement.
"Baby boy came first." Your doctor hums settling him on one side of your chest, Another nurse comes forward settling your second baby on the oposite side. "And his sister came to stake her territory after."
You cry out, but it comes out in the form of a laugh. Your hands come up to hold both of your babies against your chest. Lewis crouches down, eyeing you three in amazement.
"My beautiful family." 
He places a kiss atop each head, watching as they instantly settle down amongst your warm body. 
You've never felt so much love in your life. You think back to all of the times you felt you were destined to be alone, all of the times you craved for someone to love you unconditionally. You gave up hope that you'd find it in a partner, so a baby was all you craved. But here you were with a man who loved you more than it was possible for love to exist. Here you were with two products of that love. 
You order the nurse to remove one of the railings so the Lewis can nestle in beside you. The doctor suggest for him to remove his shirt and he does so quickly, gently sliding beside you. You motion for him to grab the babygirl and he eases her onto his chest with ease. You peck his head as you watch the tears glide down his face. 
"I just love you all so much." he cries. 
And you know exactly how he feels as you two bask in the moment.
You think back to the moment that made this all possible, laying in Lewis' bed as the words leave his mouth, "It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you."
Looking at your two babies, you could tell they each were going to represent a part of both of you. As your daughter lets out constant noises, Lewis turns to you with knowing eyes, "Just like her mama." Your son's eyes pop open at the sound of his sister, and you coo, "Brother bear."
"Do we have names ready?" The doctor hums.
-
y/u/n
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y/u/n I want to share this love I found with everyone. you deserve to meet my happy family after all of this time. Of all of the things that I wanted to be, being a mother was always my true calling. It's not easy, but it's worth it. To my babies, mommy loves you always; when the world is cruel, and your heart makes you feel like a fool, know that I will be there always. To LJ, my daring little boy, I see your father in everything you do; you will always be my baby bear, so strong and courageous, but with a mind so strong and a heart so big, you're forever unstoppable. My baby, Giana, Gigi girl, you came into the world demanding to be heard. You're fierce and bold in all of the best ways. Already, I admire the way you think and the things I know you will do. You heal a part of me I didn't know needed healing. You're my favorite girls girl, I love listening to you yap puppy, I love that you love talking to me. Always stand your ground, girly; never dull your light or lower your voice for anyone or anything. If no one listens, know I will. And to the love of my life, who has given me everything I could've ever wanted, plus more. You've outdone yourself, Lew; there aren't enough words to articulate how much I love you. Still my best friend, soon to be my husband, forever and always, the love of my life <3
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lewishamiton I can never think you enough for all that you've given to me. I love you more than life bunny. ❤️
user okay but the family of crochet animals. PUPPY? BEAR? CHEETAH? BUNNYYYY? 🥲
whitwhit still so proud of you mama ❤️
y/u/n the best god mommy in the world! I love you.
landonorris Mother🤰🏽Literally. Beautiful souls, even more beautiful children.
y/u/n love love love you Lando
user i always knew they'd get together one day, my happy heart!
lewishamilton
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lewishamilton Thank you will never be enough for all that has been given to me. I love you, bunny, and every time I think it's impossible to feel more than that, you prove me wrong. To the rest of our lives together, to our children, and to the life I've had with you. We're in this together, forever. Daddy loves you, LJ, and Gigi, forever here, forever loving you.
charles_leclerc So happy for you man!
sebastianvettel never have you been happier man, congratulations.
user you mean to tell me that all of this time we thought he was uncle lew and whole time HE'S THE PAPPYYYY
lewishamilton like these are my kids, that my son. I was so bothered by that ngl. THEY LOOK JUST LIKE ME.
user you tell us not to assume and then when we don't assume you want us to assume what do you want from us sir?!?!
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so this is the end that's not the end, I'll most likely make blurbs for their future 🌚
hope you enjoyed it.
not proofread sorry for any mistakes I was rushing honey
@barcelonaloverf1life @mitruscity
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mobblespsycho100 · 1 day
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which one’s toshiro and whys he autistic?
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[ID: full body colored illustration of toshiro from the dungeon meshi manga. /End ID]
THIS FREAKIN GUY!!!! anyway
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[ID: anonymous tumblr ask: "would def love to hear ur autistic shuro thoughts". /End ID]
awesome. rant under the cut because it will be long
So before we understand why Toshiro is the way he is we must first understand two things abt him:
1. his household situation is a very traditional clan of warriors type situation. his father is very strict and he left his homeland to go to the Island and explore the dungeon to train and become a warrior to be someone suited as the family head
2. Eastern and Western cultures of respect/propriety are different, and Ryoko Kui highlights it well even in her fantasy world.
With that in mind, heres some bullet point rapid fire thoughts that consume my current state of dunmeshi brain:
Toshiro has an avoidant personality. He fears upsetting others due to his upbringing, and rarely tells others how he feels not because he thinks they would simply understand him but because he doesn't want to seem rude and imposing / cause offense to others especially since he's not in his own homeland / hes a foreigner that should respect the land's customs, not his own wishes.
Setting boundaries is hard for everyone, but especially autistic (and some other ND, like those with Avoidant Personality Disorder) people. Those with ASD, at least in my experience, don't want to be isolated from others. So they mask.
They mask what? their desires. their true selves. their opinions. their discomfort. all for the sake of pleasing others (who are often neurotypical)
With that in mind, suddenly, what Maizuru said abt him as a child makes sense. Due to his strict upbringing, Toshiro had to more or less hide his preferences and force himself to adapt to the rigid constraints of his culture and the pressure to be the next family head, this responsibility is his burden to bear and he cannot be someone who expresses his selfish desires instead of focusing on being a strong warrior and leader
"Why did he say he hate Laios and that it should've been obvious that he disliked/found Laios' treatment of him uncomfortable??" BECAUSE IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS. I'm not going to write off Laios' autism/autistic coding, but its baffling (note: definitely racism and bias for white autistic ppl) to me that a lot of ppl don't see Toshiro's perspective and straight up ignores it. This is a lack of wanting to be rude by speaking up that is based on culture difference on Toshiro's part, and straight up ignorant of his microagressions/racism and lack of self awareness on Laios' end. They were both right, they were both wrong too. This is a complicated conflict that cannot be boiled down to simple ableist/the NT vs ND divide. There's something called . intersectionality. Which brings me to the next point
Toshiro never actually hated Laios. He found him uncomfortable, yes. But he didn't /hate/ him, he was speaking out because he's had enough!!! he's done tolerating Laios' racist bullshit, and he's done following the arbitrary Eastern rules of respecting others and not being rude!!! He. Wants. Laios. To Understand. What. He. Was. Feeling. Because he just had enough!!!!! alright!!! he's at his limit hes at his breaking point, the one he loves is now probably beyond saving, and this is a good time as any to break the news to Laios that he thinks that Laios is impulsive and doesn't fully understand how his actions have consequences!!! Hes right abt this. His feelings on this is valid, just as valid as Laios'
General autistic traits I find from Toshiro: his admiration of Falin's indifference towards insects ("woah shes so brave and gentle!! just like me, fr!!!"), His lack of regard for his own needs and wants (needing to sleep and eat and drink) because he was super focused on saving Falin, His lack of like drastic expression changes, his discomfort with physical touch when it's initiated without consent (see: Laios hugging ppl extra bonus art by Ryoko Kui), his manner of like speaking short and concise, people pleasing tendencies, his like quick way of combat, rule upholder/routine following enjoyer, he seems distant from others even those he consider family not cuz of like any terrible reason but hes just. someone who enjoys his own time alone like. yeah
aannnnndd. thats abt it? i think.
Big part of this is definitely me relating to Shiro as an Asian (specifically chinese indonesian) person who is probably Autistic lmao. I hope this brings more insight on why Toshiro is actually one of the silliest and epiccest dunmeshi characters ever I love him
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stickyspeckledlight · 23 hours
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VERY short drabble based on @harmonysanreads recent brainrot-quick thought whatever you call it post, of sunday singing lullabies
you used to think sunday to be a kind man, but recently, he's revealed his true colors; which leaves you here, tossing and turning.
at his betrayal and from your stress and hate, you transmitted your unbridled rage toward him. from one halovian to another, nothing so out of the ordinary (though, the brutality of those emotions was another matter entirely).
perhaps sunday wasn't completely shaken (for how else could he have remained as head of the Oak Family?), but it certainly had an effect. he didn't notice that one of his lapels fell slightly askew for three minutes, in fact. it was a sweet victory, but if you bite the hand that feeds you, why should you expect to have kept eating from it?
it must've been hours ago, but those waves of emotions he sent to you still run through you. you can't decipher them, when you're so overwhelmed---
love, obsession, love, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, love, worship, my dove my creed---
you scream into your pillow. your migraine may have degraded into a headache, and the agony may not be so intense, but its still the same flavor. it's acrid and cracking on your tongue. every time you think you've spat it out or rinsed it out, it grows back into an arid patch on your tongue.
you can't sleep. you want to sleep for a reprieve, yet if you do...
what else would sunday send to you, in your dreams?
"you're awake," the door opens, greeting you with that awful voice, "at this hour?" there is a particularly way sunday speaks, when he thinks you unruly, but not enough to properly punish. it's infantilizing, chiding, antagonizing, yet also warm. it reminds you of a mother, one who couldn't bear to let her children go, to let them step out of the lines she set. "i understand that you are still in the process of transitioning, but bear in mind that you---"
"what makes you think I can even relax, after that?" you hiss, "that...that..." you take a sharp inhale when a pang of agony hits.
sunday hums dismissively. "merely the consequences of your actions. do not worry. so long as you don't step out of line, I will ensure you only the best, as a valued member of the Family...and a 'dove.'"
you hiss with frustration. your mind is far too occupied trying to not collapse and break down, and there's no retort you can offer sunday. you close your eyes, and wrap your blankets tighter, till you are trapped in a coil.
the bed dips, and a glove hand runs through your hair. you know who it belongs to, but the touch is warm, kind, and you can fool yourself into thinking it to be loving. it is a relief from the weight of the past hours.
and comes a calm, harmonious, melodious hum. you nearly jolt from as the agonizing weight in your mind gets replaced with the kind warmth of a fire, the sweetness of soulglad, and the security you find within sunday's arms---huh? wha---the softness of sunday's lips, the beauty of his smile, his enthralling gaze, his downy feathers which accompany wonderfully silken hair.
gloved fingers encourage your eyes to shut, and you abide, wrapped in this soothing, blissful melody, and let yourself be carried away into a dream.
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Text
Graveyard Siblings (12)
[Masterlist]
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Here)  (Part 13: The END)
-----
Gabriel sat and stared at the white walls of the interrogation room as the French police investigated the murder of one Maria Todd-Wayne.
MT’s personal assistant, Tam Fox, had received a distress signal from her employer that she had on her since she was from Gotham and had experience various dangerous situation.
Tam went to see what the situation was only to find a bloodied Gabriel Agreste laughing over Maria’s corpse.
According to the Police, evidence and the cameras in the mansion (although the footage was a little finicky like something else was interfering with it.) had shown Gabriel panicking after accidentally pushing his assistant, Natalie Sancouer down the stairs where she had hit her head hard and fell unconscious.
Maria, who had scheduled a meeting with Gabriel to negotiate selling his company to her (which he remembered turning it down after she revealed who she was), walked in on the man while he was trying to move the body elsewhere. He attacked her, thinking she witnessed the fall and to silence her so she wouldn’t report him.
Natalie is currently in a hospital but doctors are baffled and unable to wake her up from her coma.
Although he no longer has a team of lawyers working for him, he managed to hire one of them with what little fortune he had left who had straight out told him that pleading guilty would be the best option.
He had killed Maria Todd-Wayne, MT, one of the world’s greatest and beloved designers since Edna Mode, and one of Bruce Wayne’s children. She also had a lot of celebrity friends like Luka Couffaine, Jagged Stone, Kagami Tsurgi, Felix Culpa and a few superheros like the Bat clan of Gotham, Wonder Woman, Superman.
All of them were calling for his head on a pike, none more so than the Wayne family who were using every resource at their disposal to drag the Gabriel name through mud and destroy whatever is left of what he had dedicated his entire life to built.
So even if by some totally impossible miracle he manages to get off his sentence (through bribery), there will be mobs out for his blood. Jail is the safest option.
—---
It was not the end of it. The entirety of Paris rear its head when the police uncovered evidence of his time moonlighting as Hawkmoth.
(When in reality, Tim and Barbara dug up many deleted files of his activity as Hawkmoth and left many tracks for the police to follow. There was a few planted physical evidence that Nooroo helped make it look as authentic as possible. Everything Gabriel had tried to cover up, the Bats made sure every dirty laundry of his was there for everyone to see. They are the night. They are vengeance and all that.)
Someone leaked the fake ‘journals’ Gabriel had apparently kept to keep track of akumas and their progress against the heroes. The last page had a paragraph where ‘Hawkmoth’ revealed Ladybug’s identity as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, one of Adrien’s classmates.
(No one ever managed to figure out who had leaked it. Meanwhile, a rich blonde who smiled at her phone before muttering to herself about how ridiculous and utterly ridiculous that she had no black dress that was appropriate for a funeral.)
Paris was horrified to find out that Gabriel had managed to turn Chat Noir against Ladybug and kill her and later, making her death to be a suicide and covering up her death by bribing some officers so the truth wouldn’t be revealed.
The city of Love mourned for their fallen heroine, who fought for them and was finally receiving the justice she deserved a few years too late. But better late than never.
There were memorials for Marinette Dupain-Cheng and lots of people visit her grave to leave flowers and gifts.
Nobody seemed to connect the dots on how similar the long dead Marinette Dupain-Cheng and the recently deceased Maria Todd looked.
Of course, this wouldn’t be a salt fic if Lila and everyone else get dragged along for fun. In HM’s journals, he mentioned getting the help of Lila Rossi (lots of emphasis on the name and many details so there is no doubt that he is talking about another Lila Rossi) for his plan to akumatise Miss Dupain-Cheng which many people now know was Ladybug.
Gina decides it was a good time to drop (a pre-approved) ‘Diary of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Everyday Ladybug’ containing entries from Marinette’s diaries with a few things redacted for her privacy (plus Miraculous secrets). And all proceeds from the sales of the books going to the Marinette Foundation to help teens in need (set up with help from Wayne Enterprises).
People paled in fear at how close their heroine nearly succumbed to akumatisation many times as she was bullied and isolated.
The book showed how Ladybug was, under her mask, just human. A normal girl with dreams and a crush who wanted to do good for the world. A girl who was also severely bullied and isolated and received no help from the adult figures in her life and only had a few friends who tried their best to support her.
Lila and the akuma class were glared at and everyone whispered of every horrible thing each of them did.
The akuma class’s parents cried and yelled about how their kids turned out like this, and that they had taught them how to be better as they waved Marinette’s book in their hands.
Lila was last seen by everyone to be dragged out of the school by police officers and to be put on trial for aiding Hawkmoth as an accomplice.
Francoise Dupont was investigated and authorities were horrified at how deep the corruption was. Caline Bustier was fired without question and same with M. Damocles. The entire school was reformed and policies were implemented so nothing like what Ladybug had gone through would happen again.
The Dupain-Cheng bakery shut down and moved away from Paris after how many people tried to ask them insensitive questions about Marinette forcefully or vandalising the place for how they had mistreated Marinette.
The lawyer Gabriel had hired quit, regardless of how much Gabriel offered. Which was not very much to be honest. He had nothing now.
Gabriel was charged with a lot of things, his actions as Hawkmoth were at the top of the list and the murder of Maria Todd was second.
He was sentenced to serving a lifetime in a maximum security prison, somewhere cold and where he would have to do a lot of labour.
Natalie will never again wake up from the coma but she was also charged with being an accomplice.
Meanwhile, Emilie moved to London to be closer to her sister after hiding in the States with Adrien as she waited for Gabriel to meet his doom. (Gotham was considered but dropped in favour of the less gloomy Metropolis.)
Adrien gets some backlash for his actions as Chat Noir and his inaction as Adrien to stop Lila from bullying her. If he ever steps into Paris again, people threaten to hunt him down with pitchforks.
A few wanted Emilie to also get arrested but many were sympathetic towards her as she was mostly unaware of how she became cured and she later revealed that she was trying to get away from Gabriel once she found out that he was Hawkmoth.
Chloe did get some haters for her bullying but most of Paris forgave her due to her redemption arc and being friends with Marinette near the end of her life.
It helped that she also had the many charities and non-profit organisations she set up over the years with a few of them in honour of Marinette.
—---
Across the globe, the Waynes buried another family in the Manor plot.
Jason had insisted on holding off burying the body for a month in case she gets resurrected again and with magic you can never tell so the rest of them complied with his request.
After the one month period ended, they finally held the funeral that Maria had planned.
Jason for a long time stood in front of the grave, desperately hoping for his little sister to dig herself off like she did many years ago when they first met.
After hours had passed and nothing happened, he finally let go and mourned.
The following week, Gotham noticed Red Hood being more violent than usual and that none of the other Bats restrained him.
—---
Someplace far away, where it is nowhere and everywhere, where the laws of the universe were made and none of them apply, Marinette opened her eyes.
—----
In Tibet, Guardians tend to their business when an unsettling feeling enters everyone.
Days ago, the Order had come knocking in Gotham for the Miraculouses under Maria’s care. The Bats had handed them over without much resistance except Batman warning them that they would take them back if they were ever found used for evil.
Su-Han went to check on the Miracle Box.
Kwamis’ powers were usually unpredictable especially when they are emotional, with Tikki’s chosen recently deceased, she had retreated into a shell of herself as she grieved. Many other kwamis were in a similar state but Tikki was understandably hit the hardest.
As soon as he got within a few feet of the Box however, it opened and a huge beam of light came out. From within, nineteen balls of lights in different colours emerged and took on an almost humanoid shape with their respective animal characteristics.
The Kwamis were freed.
Soon after, other Boxes in the Temple and all over the world opened with all of the kwamis being freed. Most of them didn’t hesitate to vanish into their home realm where they were from.
Back in the temple, after other kwamis had vanished, only Tikki and Plagg had remained.
“Guardian.” Plagg said the title with mockery. The only Guardian who was ever worthy of that title was Marinette and she had earned it with her kindness. “I think you are wondering what the hell is happening.”
“I demand that you tell me what you are doing right this instant.”
For the first time in a while, Tikki finally spoke.
She told them about how Marinette before she died had managed to find out about the origins of the Miraculous and how Kwamis were not meant to be tied down to the physical plane for this long. 
This was the other imbalance that the Universe brought her back to fix. She had performed the ritual using her blood and soul to slowly destroy the binds tying the kwamis to their Miraculous.
It also meant that Marinette gave up her chance at paradise or reincarnation to give the kwamis their freedom.
“Do not retaliate by attacking the Bats and their chosen city. They didn’t know nor took any part in it. Marinette made sure of that. There will be consequences if you touch them.”
With that, Tikki and Plagg left the mortal plane.
“Sugarcube, just to check. The ritual protection spell we set for Gotham is still in place, right? The one which we changed one of the conditions to as long as they set foot with no intent of harm.”
“Of course, Stinky Sock.”
“Cool, just checking. Because you conveniently left that part out.”
“I gave them a warning. It’s their wish if they choose to ignore it.”
“I think I am rubbing off on you.” Plagg cackled, just thinking about the chaos that would be unleashed if the Order tried to get to the Bats.
Tikki ignored him and instead went faster.
Plagg easily caught up to her, “Looks like someone is eager to see Pigtails again.” He tried to lighten up the tense atmosphere Tikki was giving off.
“It’s not that. I have a feeling that They have more plans for her.” Tikki replied worriedly.
“Pigtails can’t catch a break and such is the fate of the Marked. If it wasn’t for that ‘man’, ” Plagg spat the word out like it was a curse, “this would have never happened.”
“The ones with the Mark are bound to serve Them. Those are the rules. I can only hope that I can give her the peace she deserved with my testimony.”
“And mine too. It is partly my fault that she ended up this way. I should have done better.”
“Plagg, it’s not your fault. You know that.”
“If I had reined in my holder-”
“The blame lies on the man who chose our holders and the man who chose to abuse Nooroo for his selfish desire.”
—---
Marinette looked around her surroundings. Everything was dark but somehow she could still see.
And she sensed many presences surrounding her.
“Who are you?” She asked.
WE ARE THE ONES WHO GAVE YOU THE TASK OF RIGHTING THE WRONG.
The voice was disembodied like many voices speaking over each other and yet somewhat in harmony. It sounded like wind chimes and also the loudest roar of thunder. The voice did not speak nor was it heard. Instead it was like the words washed over her like an ocean wave.
“Okay. So what now?”
YOU WILL BE SENTENCE-
“Stop.” Two figures appeared in front of Marinette. Both of them shielded Marinette from the other presences. “We demand a re-trial.”
There was a slight familiarity from them. One was a tall woman who was all red, from her hair to her clothes to her skin. They were all a varying shade of red with black spots dotting her body. She also had translucent wings on her back which fluttered.
The other figure was of a man who was all black like the woman from his body to his clothes. Marinette could make out cat ears on the top of his head and a tail lazily poked out from his back. The only colour he had other than black was two neon green eyes that held a mischievous glint.
“Tikki? Plagg?” Marinette asked.
“Hiya, Pigtails.”
------
(Part 13: The END)
Note: This story is nearing its end. Thank you to everyone for being patient. I will try my best to give a satisfactory sent-off.
Taglist: @local-witch-of-mn, @ladyqnoirr, @lolieg, @istoleyourcookies, @pale-lady-dreamer, @ichigorose, @meow-now, @demonicbusiness, @unoriginalmess, @the-drokainian, @joejosyxd, @questionableboi
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fruitsyrups · 1 month
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i think your hat post is really cool and interesting but susan’s hat is a cat and i will die on this hill
this is true!!! when i was talking about the modern human hats not resembling animals i meant all of these ones
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(excluding the minerva-bots and finn of course)
#wait. wait. i just thought something#finn wearing his bear hat -> bc it makes him feel connected to the humans#and martin & the hiders (that old woman with the tiger at least) not wearing hats bc they don't feel that personal connection w/ the island#ok this is so obvious but i just think comparing and contrasting finn and martin is so interesting#but i don't think martin really was a hider. i don't think he felt particularly connected to any ideology or viewpoint in particular#he's a floater#yk#martin is so interesting#i dont like the amnesia theory or whatever (that martin also lost his memory in some capacity)#like to me its just that. he was able to commit enough to start a family but not committed enough to go back to them#after being seperated & having freedom#& he just super duper avoids thinking about it bc it makes him feel guilty. but not guilty enough to do anything about it#like when he said he doesn't like thinking about minerva cause it stresses him out that doesn't come across as 'can't remember'#it very much comes across as 'nah im not gonna expend energy into thinking about something emotionally difficult'#like if he actually tried to be a dad to finn he'd have to face all the time he spent not looking for him. instd of just avoiding it all#like where's the fun in making him less Complicated. you know?#whenever finn is in the vicinity martin's always tryna get out of there as fast as possible 😭#i guess that could also just be seen as him trying to avoid the consequences of his actions (like when he's worried finns gonna try to rip#his arm off lmao) but i personally interpret it all as a guilt thing too#none of this is related to the ask but yea 🫣
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monstress · 9 months
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me and my friends would've killed matt healy with hammers next time we see him i'll tell you that much
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honorthysalad · 6 months
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Yuuki yelling at ‘Hikaru’ for attacking Asako and then Yoshiki for not telling anyone and trying to hide it.
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pawnshopbleus · 5 months
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On Top
Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader
Warnings - Smut, Penis in vagina sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Abortion is mentioned once, Angst with a happy ending. Not beta read :0
Authors Note - I think this is the first time I’ve written p in v sex so please bear with me.
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Standing in front of the door to the Snow residence, you made sure you had everything. The basket you brought over for Coriolanus and his family was filled with food, gifts, and roses for Grandma’am. You wanted to celebrate Coriolanus’s historic win in this year's Hunger Games. Well, Lucy Grey won, but she wouldn’t have done without your Coriolanus. 
Your knuckles tapped the door three times and you patently waited until the door opened to reveal Grandma’am’s signature snow-white hair. She smiled at you and embraced you. She stepped aside and let you enter the home you had become so familiar with over the years. 
“Grandma’am, I wanted to bring this little gift for Coriolanus’s big win. The flowers are for you, by the way,” you winked and placed the basket on the table. “Speaking of, where might he be.” 
Grandma’am's eyes softened at your comment. “He’s with the dean,” she said, “He will be here any moment. You can wait for him in his room if you’d like.” Grandma’am rushed over to examine a particularly pretty white rose. 
You sat on Coriolanus’s bed tracing hearts on his pillow for what seemed like hours before his door opened. He looked frantic as if someone found out something they weren’t supposed to find.
“Come on, Coryo, you’re supposed to be smiling. Lucy Grey won. Aren’t you happy?” 
“I cheated,” he sighed. 
Your heart stopped. He what? Never in a million years did you think that he would do such a thing. With strong women like Tigris and Grandma’am raising him, you would have thought that he had the decency to break up with a woman before he did that.
Coriolanus shook his head as soon as he realized that you might have been taking his comment in the wrong way. “I cheated in the games. Not on you. I would never do that.” 
Your body relaxed and then it shot back up again. “Wait, what do you mean you cheated in the games? Is that even possible?”
Coriolanus explained what he did in order to get Lucy Grey to win. The compact mirror that used to belong to his mother had been packed with rat poison, poisonous to anyone who came in contact with it. He also put his father's handkerchief which was covered in Lucy Grey's scent in the snake's cage. If the snakes were familiar with her scent then they wouldn’t kill her. So it wasn’t her singing that saved her, it was Coriolanus. 
“What are they going to do to you?” Your eyebrows scrunched together with worry. You couldn’t lose Coriolanus for his stupid, yet chivalrous actions. 
“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to think about the future. Right now, I want to live in the moment with the prettiest girl in all of Panem.” Coriolanus smiled at how your face heated up so quickly, but deep down he was hurting. He knew what his punishment was. Twenty years of service as a peacekeeper in the Districts. He would leave the Capital and everything he’s known since he was a baby. That he could deal with, but losing you would be the hardest thing he would have to deal with. 
He knew that you would run to your father and beg him to get Coriolanus out of serving, but he didn’t want you over-exhausting your father's resources. He was a big boy and he needed to learn how to deal with his consequences. He would be fine. After all, Snow lands on top.  
He wanted to live in this moment with you. He wanted to memorize every inch of your body. He wanted to hold onto that memory and make it last. 
Your smile calmed him. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, eyes focused on your lips.
You nodded your head and smiled into the kiss. It was soft and sensual, vastly different from the kisses that the two of you usually share. Your lips brushed together as your bodies got closer to each other. By the time the two of you broke apart, you were under him, his forearms caging you underneath him. There was no need for him to do that. This is where you wanted to be, with Coriolanus. The toxic and tyrannical world that you lived in was long forgotten as she swooped in for another kiss. 
His lips traveled down to your cheek, then your jaw, and settled on your neck. He spent the majority of his time kissing and nibbling at the skin on your neck. There would be pretty little marks on your skin later, reminding people that you belonged to him. Coriolanus doesn’t remember when he got this territorial, but he sure loved the fact that Strabo Plinth’s beautiful daughter was his girlfriend. His girlfriend to mark and fuck and love whenever he wanted (with your consent of course.) 
You laughed as Coriolanus licked the sensitive patches of skin that he nibbled raw. “My parents are going to kill me when they see what you’ve done.” 
Coriolanus kissed your lips one more time in response to your comment. He then resumed his exploration of your body. His hands traveled down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal the bra that he unclasped in less than five seconds. He threw it on the floor of his bedroom, letting it get hooked onto the pile of books in the corner. 
Coriolanus kissed in between the valley of your breasts. He flicked his tongue over your sensitive nipples. It was cold in the Capital of Panem and unfortunately, the Snow’s didn’t have indoor heating. Maybe it was because they didn’t want to melt. 
You sighed in pleasure as Coriolanus continued to explore your breasts. After five minutes of teasing, he began to travel south to the part where you needed him the most. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, “may I?” 
You nodded, “Ever the gentleman.”
With your permission, he ripped your pants off of you and threw them on the floor. They were lost in the pile of clothing that had gathered on the floor. Coriolanus had shed some of his clothing as well. His ripped body was adorned in nothing but his white underwear. 
Coriolanus spread your legs apart, “Look at how wet my girl is.” He traced a finger down the cotton of your underwear and slowly slid it up your legs. He wanted to drag this on as much as possible. You let out a grumble of frustration, getting tired of his constant teasing. Coriolanus gave in and got rid of your underwear. 
The same finger that was used to skim the fabric of your underwear was now being used to gather your slick and spread it across your sensitive pussy. You took a deep breath of air into your lungs. The feeling was new, but not unwelcomed. Coriolanus flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your clit was pulsing with need. You needed Coriolanus to drop the act and eat you out like he was a starving man.
“Coriol-” Your word was cut off by a moan as his mouth did exactly what you wanted it to do. Coriolanus delved into your pussy, tracing shapes onto your clit with his tongue. Your back arched off of the bed again. Coriolanus’s fingers teased your hole, trying to find the perfect time to ease into your channel. 
Coriolanus’s fingers weren’t thick, but they were long making it easier for him to tease your G-spot. He fucked his fingers in and out of you as he sucked your clit. You had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. Your lips were sure to be chewed raw after this, but they would serve as a reminder that you had a man who was willing to do this for you. Many high-society women told stories about their husbands not pleasuring them when they had sex. It sounded like a horrible life to lead, but they were rich and beautiful so they needed to sacrifice something. 
Coriolanus curled his fingers up, letting them knock against your G-spot. He continued to kiss and lick at your clit. You were close. By the way you were clenching down on his fingers, he could tell that the waterworks were coming. Your naked chest rose and fell as you played with your nipples, increasing the pleasure that you felt. Your head fell even deeper into the pillow as a chill ran down your body. That chill eventually led to where Coriolanus was currently still working. He ate your pussy like a starved man, just the way you liked it. 
Without warning, your juices painted Coriolanus’s face. He wasn’t surprised that you came so fast. The last time you had sex was two months ago. You were burning for him and he was burning for you. 
Coriolanus wiped his face with the back of his hand and laughed. That was the first time he had actually made you squirt. It had always been a personal goal of his after Tirgis explained to Coriolanus how a woman's body works. At first, he was traumatized. He didn’t want to have the sex talk with his dear cousin, but when he laid eyes on you for the time, he wanted to do everything Tigris said and more. 
His cock was hard. You could see the outline of it through his white underwear. You would tease him about his tighty whities later. Right now, you were laser-focused on the fact that Coriolanus hooked his thumbs under his waistband and lowered them, exposing his cock to the cold air. His hard cock slapped against his lower stomach. He jerked his cock off, spreading his precum all over his length. He wanted to make sure that it went in as smoothly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you. 
He lined himself up at your core. He slid his tip up and down your pussy, gathering your slick with his dick before he pushed into you. Your insides welcomed him with little to no problem. The stretch felt good. You were all slicked up and ready for him.
Contraceptives weren’t a problem for you. Coriolanus was always careful and made sure to come somewhere that wasn’t your vagina. You didn’t want to have a kid just yet. First, you wanted to study at the University and travel back to District Two if you were given the chance. Then you wanted to get married. Pereferabbly to Coriolanus, but you didn’t know if that was possible yet. With his fate still undecided, your plans to marry the love of your life dwindled. Besides, even if you were to get pregnant your father would have enough money to get you an abortion
Coriolanus’s head fell forward as he buried his cock in your tight pussy. Two months and he had forgotten how good you felt. Your insides fluttered around him as he bottomed out. 
Coriolanus began to thrust his cock in and out of you. He was methodical with everything he did. Coriolanus set a rhythm as he fucked into you. He fucked you hard and fast. The side of his bed slapped against the wall and his mattress cracked and groaned as he fucked into you. You prayed to the heavens that Grandma’am and Tigris were in a deep sleep. Or that the walls of the Snow residence were thicker than Coriolanus’s cock. 
Coriolanus peppered your mouth with kisses in order to muffle your moans. He kept his pace as he did this. Your breasts jiggled as he fucked into you. Your hands found their way down to your extra-sensitive clit. You circled it with your fingers and moaned in pleasure at the feeling. 
His balls slapped against your ass as his strokes became more deep and labored. He was going to come soon. He needed to come soon. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Two months with no sex had gotten to him. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as your pussy clenched around him. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure. 
“Inside me,” you said. You were close too, the feeling of your finger frantically rubbing your clit and the feeling of Coriolanus's cock buried deep inside of you spurred your orgasm to come out from the woodwork.  
You have come a second time, your pussy fluttering and squeezing Coriolanus cock that was still inside of you. A string of curses fell from Coriolanus’s lips as he came inside of you. His pulsing and throbbing cock pushed his come deep inside of you as he continued to fuck you as he came. His thrusts were slow but intentional. He would have lasted a few more seconds, but with the way that your pussy squeezed his sensitive cock, he came instantly. 
Coriolanus slowly eased his cock out of you. The both of you were breathing heavily as Coriolanus went to grab a towel from his closet. He eased your legs open one more time as he cleaned you up. He was slow and gentle with it. He knew that you were still sensitive after two orgasms.
His come eased out of you and onto the towel. The sight almost caused him to get hard, but he didn’t feel like tiring you out even more. 
Once he was done cleaning you up, he tucked you into his chest and covered the two of you with the blankets on his bed. He kissed your forehead and your cheek. Coriolanus’s love language was kissing. He loved kissing you. He loved doing anything with you, but kissing was his favorite. 
Your eyes closed, but you weren’t falling asleep. Not yet. Sex might have been a clever distraction, but now that you were coming off your high you needed to know what will happen to the future of your relationship. 
“Coryo, what is going to happen to you? I know that you know what your punishment is. I'm not stupid.” 
Coriolanus sighed as he tried to keep his voice from waving. He rarely cried, but in moments like these, he did. Just you and him shielded away from the rest of the Capital were his favorite. “Twenty years as a peacekeeper.” 
You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to cry. Your body ran cold as you repeated those words in your mind. Twenty years as a peacekeeper. Twenty years without your Coriolanus. Your Coryo. 
“My dad can-” 
“No,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want your dad to get me out of this one. I need to learn how to do things on my own.”
“What if I had a crazy elaborate plan to get you out of it?”
“Nothing could be crazier than this.” Coriolanus got this crazy idea. It has been sitting in the back of his mind ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend. “Marry me?” 
This isn’t how he wanted to propose to you. He had already gotten your father's approval months ago. You were perfect for him and you deserve a perfect proposal. He wanted to take you to a fancy restaurant, get down on one knee, and ask you that way. Traditional and expected of Capital people, but things never go as planned when you’re a Snow. 
“Seriously?” You were in disbelief. Of course, you wanted to marry him, but this all seemed a bit rushed. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you, but Coryo. You’re about to leave.” Then, your brilliant mind comes up with the perfect plan. 
You’ll marry Coriolanus, making him one of the heirs to the Plinth fortune. Thus making him more valuable to the Capital. This way you get to marry the love of your life and keep him within arms reach. Were you being possessive? Maybe, but it was better than the dean having to deal with an angry Plinth. 
And your plan worked. You and Coriolanus got married a week after he proposed to you. It was a bit rushed, but the two of you were ready. He was going to be a loving husband, and you, a loving wife. Coriolanus’s punishment would be reduced to two months of training in District Two. He would then return to the Capital as a peacekeeper. He would keep the peace during the day and return to you at night. 
Turns out Snow does land on top.
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Time to study up on straight people sex!
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risestarkiss · 4 months
Text
Being Big Red
Rise Ramblings #312
In “What Was Meant To Be” and “What They Became,” I discuss how the turtles were created by Draxum to be weapons and then how the boys were embraced by Splinter to be a part of the Hamato clan.
I also discussed how Splinter viewed television as a window into his former life. He used television as a means to drown himself in a never-ending cycle of reminiscing the past and mourning his former self.
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Splinter’s crushing depression, though never voiced, impacted the turtles’ emotional growth and development. As a result, all four brothers had to cope with their father’s lack of attention and his expectations for their lives in their own way…
However, I believe that no one had more pressure placed on them than Raphael Hamato.
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Raphael is naturally easy-going, sweet, fun-loving, and supportive. But, as the oldest/biggest turtle, he became the impromptu leader of their little team by default. Consequently, he takes on several different roles for the sake and well-being of his family.
Their day-to-day training regimen is directed completely by him.
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He is the boys' moral compass and who they go to for guidance.
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He's the team’s backbone, support, and backup, which often cumulates in him acting as a physical shield when things get rough.
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And, most significantly, Raph is the leader even when he himself wants nothing more than to crumble to pieces.
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Raph is so physically imposing, strong-willed, and devastatingly kind-hearted that it’s easy to expect these roles from him.
But, Raph is also just a child.
In reality, these roles should never have been Raph’s to bear…
Parentification is a process in which a child or adolescent is forced to act as a parent to their siblings (or to their actual parent) through providing emotional support (Emotional Parentification) or physical support (Instrumental Parentification) in order to maintain the household.
I believe that Raphael was subjected to both, but was especially subjected to the former.
All of the roles described above are the roles of a supportive parent to their children (or Sensei to their students.) To verify this claim, you needn’t look further than the roles that Splinter encompassed in any other iteration.
With Raph, none of this responsibility comes naturally. He has to work hard to live up to the pressures and expectations placed onto him, resulting in a dissonance between his responsibilities and his true nature.
I believe that you can see the evidence of this dissonance in his chosen form of dress.
Have you noticed that when Raph casually dresses himself, he mostly wears white?
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Even Donnie picked up on this trend when he chose outfits for his brother in "The Clothes Don't Make The Turtle." (See "The Fashionista" for a full breakdown on Donnie's impeccable fashion sense.✨)
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Yet, when Raphael is filling a role, or dressing to impress others, Red is his automatic go-to.
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It’s almost as if the title of “The Red One” was not one that he chose, but one that was merely placed onto him.
But I digress...
Raph is able to be a pseudo-parent to his brothers and serves to fill in the gaps that their actual father could not fill. However, with no outlet for his own insecurities, all of that pressure had no relief.
And, if you understand chemistry, pressure, with no release, creates an explosion.
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“Acting out” is an unhealthy defense mechanism in which one expresses their unacceptable feelings through physical actions.
In this case, the "unacceptable feeling" is disappointment, not at his brothers, or with his father, or with any external force, but with himself. And with no outlet and with no one to turn to for support, that disappointment turns into red hot anger.
He’s so disappointed with himself, in fact, that he reaches his breaking point.
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Then finally, finally, he opens up.
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And at long last, he gets the support he so desperately needed.
Thus, he is able to ultimately let it all go...
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It's so lovely to see that his family does not disappoint.
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○○○○
Next | Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two • Orange, Baby!
Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi
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honeyroha · 2 years
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prettiestlovergirl · 2 months
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YOU CAN BE THE BOSS
tw: MDNI; fem!reader; slytherin! reader; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); rough sex; degradation kink; hair pulling; dacryphilia; begging; some drinking; dom! mattheo; bratty! reader; french! mattheo; impact play.
concept: you and mattheo have been enemies with benefits for a while now, but after you score higher on a test... he wants to make sure you still remember your place with him ;) song: you can be the boss by lana del rey
a/n: still pushing the french! mattheo agenda bcos bilingual men make me go weak in the knees (and ruin my panties). my french is still shit, they do not teach you kinky pet names in high school french class! so bear with me you guys. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪
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mattheo riddle was the bane of your existence and the source of all your most recent orgasms.
you couldn't stand each other! he thought you were an insufferable know-it-all and you thought he was a cocky asshole. if it were up to you, you'd have never had to interact with him again.
then, after one late night in the library, it was like a flip had switched on in you both. you still couldn't stand each other, sure, but suddenly you both seemed much more bearable to the other when his cock was bruising your cervix.
and thus began the new phase of your relationship: taunting and teasing each other in public and then fucking out your grievances in private. it was the perfect system, really.
today, you had been particularly insufferable to him. you'd scored exactly two points higher on a charms test and hadn't stopped gloating. you needed to be brought down a peg or two, and mattheo knew just how to do it.
you were both in the common room, the quidditch team having thrown a party to celebrate your house victory in the game against ravenclaw.
you were certainly cocky today and you knew it, your small academic victory had made you a bit giddy. normally, you wouldn't have cared, but mattheo was so annoyed by it, you couldn't help but rub it in! how were you to know that there'd be consequences to your actions?!
when your eyes finally landed on mattheo, he'd been holding a red solo cup and talking with theo in the corner. he looked hot, not that you'd ever tell him that. he didn't need his ego getting any bigger.
you were used to him pouncing on you almost immediately after you spotted him, so when your eyes landed on him and he didn't even look over? you instantly knew that it was him being petty.
well, if he wanted to be petty, two could certainly play that game! he wanted you to come crawling to him and beg him to fuck you? you'd rather die! well, not die, but you know.
mattheo could feel your eyes on him, but he made no effort to look your way or give you any attention. if you wanted him, you had to put in the work tonight. if you wanted to be stubborn, he was more than willing to go home alone and leave you to suffer.
the next hour consisted of you trying to gain his attention in a multitude of ways. you flirted with blaise, danced with theo, even left a perfect imprint of your lipstick on draco, and nothing. little did you know, he kept a tally of every little act for... later use.
he continued to ignore you, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to grab you and fuck you right there in front of everybody. you weren't his girlfriend, but you were still fucking his, and you were absolutely gonna pay for your teasing.
after another 20 minutes, you were done. he was sitting back on the couch, the usual picture of cocky and casual that both turned you on more and simultaneously made you want to slap him across the face. it was a fine little line you walked daily.
you walked up to him, arms crossed over your chest as you narrowed your eyes at him. "fine! you win." you hissed, only to be met with his stupid smug smirk.
"i'm sorry? not sure what you mean, ma douce, (my sweet) what exactly did i win?" he questioned, giving you a fake n innocent look. "i win at so much, gonna need you to be more specific."
you should have just walked away. he was too cocky, it made your skin crawl, but fuck you needed him. "this! this stupid little game your playing, you win, i give up, lets go. now." you felt like a child, wanting to stomp your foot on the ground and beg for his stupid attention.
"ah, well, since you asked so nicely." he grinned, taking his sweet time getting off the couch and setting his cup down. he didn't grab your hand or look back to see if you followed him up the stairs; he knew you would.
"you are such a sore fucking loser!" you huffed once the door was closed, making him laugh at your annoyance and frustration. "so fucking dramatic." he smirked, hands already slipping under your skirt to grab your ass.
you moved to kiss him, but he turned his head away, instead choosing to place his lips on your neck. "dick." you whined, nails scraping over the nape of his neck while his teeth sunk harshly into your skin. "who? me. i'm being nice, don't want to ruin your pretty make-up, môme" (brat) he scoffed back, rolling his eyes at your dramatics.
you dug your nails into his skin as retaliation, but it only resulted in him spanking your ass so hard you yelped out. "un tel putain de gosse" (you're such a fucking child) he murmured as he brought his hands up and unbuttoned your school shirt.
his hands moved quickly to push the fabric off your shoulders, but his mouth moved slow and rough as he let his teeth graze over as much of your bare skin as he could. he might have been annoyed with you, but fuck did he love seeing you covered in his work.
you were getting desperate for more and he knew it, the slowness of his actions entirely purposeful. "mattheo, please." you begged, head leaned back as he smirked against your skin. "please, what? you know i like it when you use your words."
"i hate you." you grumbled, hissing lightly at the pain of his fingers digging into your waist. "sorry, 'm sorry!" you huffed, biting your lip before going on. "please fuck me. now." you half begged; half demanded.
"that's more like it." he smirked, spinning you around and smacking your ass once again. "get on the bed, salope (slut). on your stomach" he commanded, and you happily complied. you laid down on the bed, ass up in the air just like he'd told you to.
"putain (fuck), look at you." mattheo sighed, lifting your skirt up with his hands while he dragged your panties down just under your thighs. he used his hands to keep your spread open, admiring your already glistening pussy.
"you've been so cocky all fucking day, flirting around, bragging. what would they all say if they could see you now? all soaked and desperate." he cooed, dragging his thumb all the way through your folds.
you whined a bit, hips attempting to grind against his hand the best you could before his other hand came back up and spanked you harshly. "gotta stay still, ma douche (my sweet). don't wanna see your pretty little head get hurt." he teased, rubbing over your warm skin.
"s-sorry." you nodded, instantly whining as he pulled away from you. you kept facing the wall, but you could hear his belt being undone and him stripping right behind you.
mattheo groaned as he wrapped his hand around his cock, moving it up and down a few times as he admired the view of you all ready for him.
you wiggled your hips a bit, desperately waiting for him to put you out of your misery and fuck you. he chuckled at your desperation, smacking his cock against your ass just to hear you gasp and moan out.
"tease!" you huffed, grabbing the bedsheets gently as he started to slowly, teasingly, rub his cock through your wet folds. he was just trying to make sure your wetness was spread evenly, that's all! he was being a good fuck buddy.
"fuck, mattheo, please!" you begged, closing your eyes as he continued to tease and mess with your puffy cunt until you were close to tears.
"i had to watch you walk around, flirting with all my fucking friends like a fucking salope. (slut) now you're here, whining and begging for me to do you a favor? doesn't work like that, ma douce (my sweet). you take what i give you, got it?" he asked, spanking you again for good measure.
"'m sorry! 'm sorry, i know, but please, mattheo! need you!" you begged, his hand moving to hold your hip down to keep you from squirming while your arousal dripped all over his cock.
"you gonna be a good girl f'me? if i fuck you real nice, are you gonna keep running your mouth downstairs?" he asked, to which you immediately nodded. "yes! yes, i'll be so good, won't say a word, promise, just please!" you whimpered.
"well, if you promise." he teased, and thrusted all the way into your soaked pussy. he groaned as your walls fluttered around him. you'd fucked dozens of times at this point, but he never got tired of feeling your walls squeeze his cock.
he moved painfully slow, tearing out whines of anguish and frustration from your throat as you gripped his bedsheets. "what's wrong, ma douce (my sweet)? i thought you wanted me to fuck you." he mocked, squeezing your ass tightly.
"please, please, please!" you whined, desperate tears starting to drip down your cheeks as he pulled almost all the way out before slowly and roughly thrust all the way back in. you could feel every inch of him filling you up over and over.
"'m just doing what you asked, ma douce (my sweet). or do you need even more from me?" he scoffed, squeezing and massaging your ass as he continued his slow thrusts.
you instantly nodded, not caring that he was mocking you n calling you greedy. you were too fucking desperate and needy for him and all your tears only seemed to make him want to tease more.
"tellement putain de gourmande." (so fucking greedy) mattheo smirked, punctuating his words with another slap to your ass before finally giving in to your pleads for more and speeding up his thrusts.
"fuck! yes, thank you, thank you, fuck yes!" you moaned, his hips snapping roughly into yours as his free hand gathered your hair into a ponytail, tugging you back and making your back arch.
"such a needy fucking brat, what am i gonna do with you?" he scoffed, looking over your teary face as you continued to moan and whine as he fucked you rough and hard.
you couldn't speak, mind already so hazy from the way his cock stretched your walls. he pulled you into a sloppy kiss, swallowing your moans and squeaks of pure fucking bliss.
he tasted like the malt liquor he'd been drinking from before and you swore you were getting drunk off the taste. he sunk his teeth into your lower lip, groaning against you as he bullied your pussy again and again with no remorse.
your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, signaling just how close you were to cumming. "mm, please, make me cum, please!" you whimpered against him as he pulled away from your lips, hand still tightly fisting your hair as he fucked you.
"that's it, that's ma douce (my sweet). be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock, yeah? cum all over my fucking cock." he commanded, watching as your legs shook on either side of him while you coated his cock in your creamy slick.
he let go of your hair and you practically collapsed against the bed, face smushing into the sheets. he continued to fuck into you, groaning at how much tighter you felt now that you came.
you whined as the overstimulation started to set in, but you were unable to squirm with your legs all jellylike and his hand keeping you in place. you sobbed in pure bliss, staining his sheets with your mascara and tears.
"fuck, that's it fuck." he grunted, biting his lip harshly as he slowed down. "fuck yourself on me, ma douce (my sweet). make me cum." he demanded, drawing another whiny cry from your lips.
"c'mon, you want to be a good girl, don't you? thought you were sorry for being such a brat, huh? fuck yourself on me." he cooed, kneading your ass while you pouted but nodded and forced yourself back up.
you rocked your hips back against him, working at a sluggish pace as you were still too blissed out to function normally. the alcohol n orgasm n cock still filling you up left your brain numb and blank.
after a few more rocks of your hips, he pulled out of you and started to tug his cock until his cum shot onto your back. he watched as your swollen n gummy cunt leaked with your juices, panting as he watched you collapse and he laid down beside you.
you both laid there until you both caught your breath. your eyes were heavy n you were already starting to doze off when he nudged you. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up." he smirked, pushing himself off the bed.
"whatever you say..." you mumbled sleepily.
ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ
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sh1-n0bu · 1 year
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Congrats!!! You're my new fav scara writer, anyways. I want to fuck scaramouche so hard he's mf SCREAMING, imagine he was being very naughty and needy in public acting like a lil bitch in heat, AND WE PUNISH HIM 😈😈😈
♡︎ 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙮𝙚𝙩 ♡︎
characters: sub!scaramouche x nb!dom!reader
warnings: overstimulation, dacryphillia, degrading, praise, marking, creampie, rough sex, of course cock can be interpreted as a strap on
notes: this one was less kinkier than my other smuts but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be soft👍
also woziehrjsbbzbxjsbbs IM UR NEW FAV SCARA WRITER😭😭 NOBODY TOUCH ME IM SOFT RN
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poor little scaramouche, tasting the consequences of his own action yet still trying to run away from it. his small, pristine body trembling and twitching, dark love bites and teeth mark blemishing his perfect skin - but he didn’t mind.
he was so sensitive, even a small breath of air being blown into the crook of his neck would cause him to jolt and whimper like a useless whore. your precious whore.
trying to catch his breath and to get his bearings back, scaramouche laid there on the bed, all red and cum dripping from his hole and down his shaking thighs. that wasn’t good. your sweet boy can’t go wasting the cum you filled him up to the brim with!
“[NAM-]!!” suddenly feeling you start to move again, scaramouche tried to get away. whining and writhing under you, clawing at the sheets, choking on his own moans and screams of pleasure.
“we’re not done yet baby boy. it’s not over until i’m satisfied with filling you up and until you learn your lesson” scaramouche felt like his mind was gonna blank. he came way too times already to the point his cum is now nothing but a translucent color! you even fucked him raw, he can’t take it!
pinning his hands down to the bed and continuing to ram into his sloppy hole, creating more squishy, wet and filthy noises you leaned down to bite at the small juncture between his neck and shoulder.
“[name]! n-nO NO NOT THER-!! MFFGH GYAAAFH♡︎♡︎!!” silly little slut. cumming from just a single bite like that. but it’s okay. you’re a patient lover and you will be sure to teach scara his lesson.
rutting into the soft spot in him that makes him scream, your hand reached down between scaramouche’s shaking bite covered thighs, teasing the slit of his small cock.
“you sound so good precious. again. cum for me again” you demanded. jerking him off while fucking into his sweet spot causing scara to sob loudly with his pretty blue eyes rolled to the back of his skull. mouth hanging open with drool slipping down his chin, face so flushed to the point it even reached his shoulders and globs of fat tears rushing down his cheeks.
ah he was so pretty like this. so perfectly ruined and fucked stupid.
scaramouche sobbed out. whining about who knows what, words of “good — feelssh sho good♡︎♡︎“ slurring out of his mouth. soon his legs gave out from under him but you can't have him giving up now.
ruthlessly pulling his waist back up again, you held scaramouche’s waist, sure to leave a bruise with how hard you’re gripping the flesh, continuing to thrust into him.
scaramouche soon came over the sheets with a sudden loud wail, small hands clawing at the pillows, hips twitching, thighs shaking. he was just so cute like this♡︎. surely your darling whore can go a few more rounds?
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Text
Use Your Words
Franchise: Marvel (Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse)
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x male reader (reader's pronouns are he/him/his)
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: smut, sub!Miguel, dom!reader, office sex, door unlocked, loud Miguel, breeding kink, Miguel has a praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, anal fingering, reader referred to as sir, Miguel's claws, Miguel's fangs, minor degradation, minor angst (reader's been worried about Miguel), fluffy aftercare
Summary: Miguel had been teasing you all day, the little shit. You knew that he knew damn well what he was doing. And he knew exactly what would happen when you caught him alone that night.
A/N: Requested by an irl of mine @sixatrocities ! This is my first smut that I'm actually posting so bear with me (is it still considered a one shot when it's over 3k words??) also I myself do NOT speak Spanish (English, French and a bit of Italian but not Spanish) so most of what Miguel says is directly from Google Translate and I'm so sorry if I messed up - this was also written as though Miguel’s suit is like a physical one as opposed to what I assume is nanotech somehow in the movie
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You’re in a meeting with various other members of the Spider Society. This includes Jessica, Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen, Peter and Mayday. And of course, you, Miguel and Lyla. You lean back in your chair at one end of the long table, farthest from where Miguel is at the other end. He’s mostly stopped his teasing, other than shooting you mischievous looks from across the table when no one’s paying attention.
“Any questions?” Miguel says finally, having finished his explanation about the next mission. You know he can feel your gaze burning into him, but he pointedly ignores it. No one says anything, clearly satisfied with the information given.
“Class dismissed,” you say sarcastically. Everyone begins to leave without a word. You turn your eyes on Miguel’s AI. “Lyla, take the night off,” you say. “I need to… discuss some things with Miguel. One on one.”
As Lyla blips out, Miguel swallows hard, finally looking up at you.
“You guys alright?” Peter asks on his way out.
“We’re fine, Pete,” you say, your gaze trained on Miguel’s. His eyes are dilated so much you can’t discern the black of his pupils from the brown of his irises as he scans your face. “Don’t worry about it. Have a goodnight, man, say hi to MJ for me.”
“…Alright,” he replies, though he sounds slightly unsure. “Say bye, Mayday.”
You turn to look at the young redhead, a sweet smile crossing your face as you wave to her. You nod to Peter as he slips out the door.
And then there were two.
“Y/N-”
“Miguel,” you say, your voice bordering on a warning. You slowly cross the room to where he’s standing at the wall. He begins to back away when you get too close, backing up so far that he ends up pressed between you and the wall. You place your palm flat on his broad chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your fingertips.
“What was that?”
“What, er, what was what?” He asks in a tight voice. His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and back again.
“You know exactly what you were doing, O’Hara.”
Miguel’s breath hitches in his throat. “I’m-”
“We’ve talked about this, haven’t we?”
Miguel nods quickly. “Mhm.”
“So you know what comes next, then, hm?”
He nods again. “Mhm.”
“Your office,” you state. “Now.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
————————
You follow close behind Miguel as the two of you walk back to Miguel’s office. You say hello in passing to some of the people you pass, like Ben and Margo, prolonging how long Miguel has to wait for the consequences of his actions.
When you reach the office, Miguel moves to lock the door behind the two of you. You catch his wrist before he can touch the doorknob.
“No,” you say.
“But-”
“Miguel.”
“…Yes, sir.”
You gesture for him to go to his desk and you notice him shift his suit a little. You follow him to the desk. He turns around to say something, but you pin him between you and the desk before he can get a word out, his hands bracing himself on the edge of the surface. The proximity gives you both some friction between your respective suits. Miguel sucks in a breath when you grind against him, chewing on his bottom lip. You can see his sharp fangs outlined against his soft pink lip while he watches you carefully.
“You can’t be a tease in the middle of a meeting, baby,” you say in a low voice.
“I’m sorry,” Miguel says breathlessly.
“No you aren’t,” you murmur. “That was bad, Miguel.”
“I’ll be good,” he says desperately. “Por favor, señor, I’ll be good for you.”
You raise an eyebrow in challenge and feel him practically melt underneath you. “Take the suit off, sweetheart.” You step back to allow him to free himself from the confines of his suit. He’s soon left in his boxers, watching you for his next instructions.
“So handsome…” you whisper. You step towards him again, ghosting your fingers over his warm bare skin. He shivers under your touch. “Just begging to be fucked, aren’t you?” You hook a finger under the waistband of his underwear. A whine escapes his lips before he can stop it. “Use your words, baby boy.”
“Please,” he whimpers.
“Please what, Miguel?”
He squirms a little under your hand. “Please fuck me, I need you inside me…”
You guide him back to the desk, framing his body as he leans against it. You can feel his hard, clothed cock against your covered crotch. He tries to grind against you, desperate for a little more friction, but you gain bruising grip on his hips, holding him in place.
“I didn’t say you could move.”
“Por favor, señor, necesito tu polla dentro de mí,” Miguel begs.
“Patience, darling,” you say. You reach around Miguel’s broad frame and push everything off his desk. He looks like he’s about to object, his mouth opening to say something, but the look you give him tells him to keep it to himself. “We’ll fix it later,” you assure him quickly. His tense body relaxes a little.
In mere moments, you rid yourself of your own suit, reaching for the secret compartment of one of the drawers of Miguel’s desk. The two of you have fucked in his office on more than one occasion, so he keeps some condoms around just in case. As you move to withdraw one, Miguel’s thick fingers curl around your wrist. You look back at him.
“Miguel?” You say in a teasingly questioning tone.
“Just your cock,” he whispers. You drop the condom and close the drawer without looking away from him.
“You want me to breed you,” you say. Miguel chews on his lip nervously but he nods.
“Yes, fuck, please.”
“You love the idea of that, don’t you?” You mutter, leaning close to his face. “The thought of being fucked full of my cum to have my kids? Is that what you want?”
Miguel whimpers as you press yourself against him. “Y-Yes, sir…”
A smirk crosses your face. “Good boy.” Your hand moves upwards to thread your fingers into Miguel’s hair. You tug his head back and a gasp tumbles from his lips. Your lips attack his neck, sucking hickeys from the bottom of his jaw down to his collarbone. As you move further down, your lips attach to one of his nipples. A sharp whine escapes him, his body arching into you. He grips your shoulders.
“Fuck,” he whimpers.
One of your hands, the one that had been hooked under his waistband, slips into his boxers, gently grabbing his hard cock while your mouth stays on his chest.
“Ay, dios mío,” he moans. “Please, sir, fuck me, I need your cock so bad, please…!”
You tug his boxers down around his ankles, letting his dick spring free of its confines. Miguel kicks them away as you shed yours too. You stick three fingers in Miguel’s mouth.
“Suck,” you order. That skillful tongue of his swirls around your digits, watching you in desperation. You stroke your cock a few times while you watch Miguel. “Such a good boy for me, baby. So obedient.” You take your fingers away. “Lay back on the desk,” you tell him.
He shifts to sit on the edge of the desk, wincing at the feeling of the cold surface under his bare ass, then lays down on his back, his legs spreading automatically for you. You run one of your wet fingers around his puckered hole and he shivers. You push one finger into his entrance and Miguel moans loudly at the feeling, gripping the edge of the desk above his head.
“So tight for me, darling, so perfect,” you murmur. You pump your finger in and out of his hole, soon adding the second one. Miguel’s mouth falls open, his moans getting more and more high-pitched with your every move. You curl and scissor your fingers inside him and soon his legs are trembling on either side of you. “Can’t wait to breed this tight hole of yours, fuck…” You add your third finger and Miguel already looks like he could cum.
“You think you’re ready?” You ask him.
“Yes, fuck, yes.”
“Use your words, baby boy. Please what?”
Miguel whines as you withdraw your fingers. “Please breed me, I need it!”
You quickly grab a little bottle of lube from the desk drawer, coating your dick in the cold substance. You toss the bottle to the side when you’re finished with it. You place one of Miguel’s legs over your shoulder, lining your shaft up with his entrance.
You push in slowly, watching Miguel for any signs of discomfort. His sharp claws dig into your back. His eyes roll back and his lips part, letting out one of the most beautiful moans you’ve ever heard.
“Good boy, such a good boy, taking me so well,” you say, making sure every inch of you is inside his hole.
“Oh, fuck, you’re so big…”
“You can take it, I know you can,” you say as you bottom out. Miguel whimpers. You stay still for a few moments to let him adjust. When he looks up at you with red-tinted, lust filled eyes, you watch him.
“Move,” he whispers. “Please.”
“As you wish.”
You thrusts start slow, but once you start to see your dick bulging in his stomach, you increase your speed. Miguel’s loud moans fill the air, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin while you fuck into him. You rest your hand over his stomach bulge. “This what you wanted?” You ask. “Wanted me to fuck you like a needy little whore to be bred?” You thrust into him particularly roughly, eliciting another moan from him.
“S-Sí, señor- ah, fuck…!”
“You just wanna be filled up with my cum, don’t you? Wanna have my kids, huh?”
“Please, please, please,” Miguel begs breathlessly.
“This tight little ass of yours is gonna be my personal cum dump,” you state with a sharp snap of your hips. You can tell from the moan he releases and the way he grips your shoulders that you hit his prostate. “That feel good? You like it when I say I’m gonna fill you up?”
He almost looks like he’s in a haze as he reaches towards his cock. You slap his hand away. “No touching,” you growl, hitting his prostate again.
“P-Please, sir, I’m- I’m so close!”
“Oh yeah?” You taunt. “Gonna cum without your dick touched?” You emphasize each word with a sharp thrust.
“Señor, por favor, es demasiado!”
“Take it, you little slut,” you growl, gripping his hips in a way that’ll leave bruises. “Gonna fuck you so full of my cum, baby boy.”
“Please, please, I need to cum…!”
“Cum for me, Miguel,” you order, moving one of your hands to wrap around his cock.
It takes only one stroke from you and he’s screaming your name, cumming all over his chest and your hand. The feeling of his hole clenching around your cock almost sends you over the edge, but not yet. You work him through his orgasm, stroking his shaft as you milk him. Your hand doesn’t cease its movements after he’s finished. He begins to squirm underneath you.
“Señor,” he whines. “Es demasiado, I can’t take anymore!”
“You can and you will,” you state, once again increasing the speed of your thrusts. You can feel the coil in your stomach begin to tighten.
“Señ- oh, mi maldito dios!” He exclaims when you swipe your thumb over the sensitive tip of his cock. “Santa mierda!”
“I’m close, baby, you’re doing so well for me,” you say in a low voice, fucking him with everything you’ve got. “You’re gonna take it all and you’re not gonna spill a drop, got that?”
“Sí, sí, sí- oh mierda… jodidamente arruinarme…!”
All you have left in you to say is growling out curses as you get yourself off with Miguel’s hole. Your hand is no longer on his cock, but bending his legs so his knees are up to his chest, giving you an even better angle at his prostate.
“Y/N, sir, please!” Miguel shouts. “Please, cum inside me, please…!”
With your hand on his stomach again, you feel the coil in your stomach snap. Your thrusts falter. “Fuck, Miguel!” You yell, burying your cock to the hilt in his ass, cumming harder than you have in a while. You can feel Miguel squirming underneath you, his hole clenching around you as he cums again suddenly. He’s trembling beneath you. Your balls drain, your cum painting his insides white. You see a bulge in his stomach where your cum is and feel a sense of satisfaction. You stay inside him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of having bred him.
“Good boy,” you say in a low tone. “Gonna keep that all inside, sweet boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Miguel murmurs, looking thoroughly fucked out. His claws retract and his hands drop to his sides. Your shoulders burn where his claws had dug into your skin, but you’ve always loved getting to see the marks he leaves behind.
“Good boy, Miguel, so good for me.”
You lean down and press a deep kiss to his soft lips. Your tongue pokes into his mouth, feeling his fangs. You grin into the kiss. When you pull away, he takes your hand that had been jacking him off and licks off the excess cum that had been left when he had climaxed, and damn if it wasn’t one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.
“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up, babe,” you say gently.
You carefully help Miguel to his feet, finding his boxers on the floor. You have to help him back into them, considering he can barely move or walk properly. You help him out his suit back on as well. He hisses at the feeling of his oversensitive cock rubbing against the fabric of his underwear. You tug on your boxers and your suit as well. You know you’ll have to wash or replace both of your suits, considering there’s likely cum all over the inside of Miguel’s now, but how else were the two of you supposed to talk back to your apartment? Naked?
As tempting as it is to show everyone that Miguel isn’t so scary under the right circumstances, you wouldn’t do that to him. Plus, you’d like to keep that sight for yourself.
You have to support Miguel as the two of you walk, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Anyone who questions his stiff movements look to you for an answer. “Rough mission,” you reply with a smirk.
————————
Miguel leans against the wall next the door to your shared apartment, waiting for you to dig out your key. You do about 75% of the Macarena to locate it, jamming it in the keyhole and letting the two of you in. You lock the door behind you when you’re both inside.
“How you feeling, hot stuff?” You tease gently, giving Miguel a once-over.
“Sticky,” he admits quietly.
You grimace. “Sorry. Shower?”
“Can’t stand properly,” he says, a tone of humour in his voice even though you can tell he’s still feeling pretty stiff.
“Bath?” You suggest. He nods tiredly.
Miguel uses the wall to hold himself up as the two of you make your way to the bathroom. You walk more quickly so as to get the water running. While the tap is on, the water warming up, you move to help Miguel get rid of his suit again. You set it by the door so you can remember to wash it later. You do the same with your own. As you help Miguel out of his boxers, he sucks in a breath through his teeth; his cock is still sensitive and you’d just accidentally brushed it with your hand.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, cupping his cheek with your hand.
“’S’alright,” he mumbles. He turns his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the heel of your hand. You smile at him, then finish helping him undress. You set his underwear aside with his suit, again doing the same with your own.
You lean forward and softly connect your lips with Miguel’s in a loving kiss.
“I love you,” you murmur.
“I love you too, mi vida.”
“In all seriousness, though, are you alright?”
“Soy perfecto, querido,” he says assuringly. “A little achy, maybe, but I’m alright.”
“If I ever go to far-”
“I’ll tell you. Promise.” He kisses you again.
The two of you slip into the warm water, Miguel resting between your legs and leaning his back against your chest. You press a kiss to the back of his ear and he hums contentedly.
“Comfortable?” You ask. Miguel nods.
You help him clean up the mess you’d both made, happy to feel him relax under your touch. He’s been tense all the time. Any moment of comfort and rest you can bring him, you’ll do it. As much as you love him, he’s been off for a while now, always tense and grumpy. Nothing you couldn’t handle, but it still worried you. He wasn’t always like this.
You had your suspicions as to why - or, rather, who - was making him feel like this, but you knew you shouldn’t mention her. She’d deny it a thousand times over, and you weren’t sure Miguel would believe you either.
“You’re safe, my love,” you say quietly, wrapping your arms around him.
“Thank you.” He pauses for a moment, then he tenses. “Oh, shit, my desk-”
“We’ll go back, it’s okay,” you answer quickly. You reach one hand up and run your fingers through his hair. His posture softens, leaning comfortably against your chest again. “We’ll clean up that mess after we’re done with this one. Okay?”
He nods slowly. “Okay.” His eyes close a little; he’s tired, and you know it. He’s been tired for a long time. 
“Tell you what,” you say. “I’d say we’re pretty much cleaned up, so how about we dry off and you curl up in bed, and I’ll go back and fix your desk.”
“But-”
“I know how you organize it,” you reassure him. “And I’ll swing there and back, so I won’t be gone long. Is that okay?” Miguel hesitates. “Baby, you need rest,” you remind him, gently rubbing his arm.
He sighs tiredly but he nods. You kiss the nape of his neck. He leans his head back to rest on your shoulder, looking at you with exhausted brown eyes.
“Hey, pretty boy,” you tease softly. He grins lazily.
“Hi.”
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A few different people have been observing that Scrooge begins to change more quickly in the book than is often shown in adaptations. The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come isn’t the one crucial factor breaking his obstinacy, but rather a final message to drive home a point that Scrooge had already become receptive to. I want to trace the shape of Scrooge’s progress over the course of the book and see what it reveals. (There will be some ‘spoilers’ here, since the story seems fairly universally known even among those who are reading the book for the first time.)
After Marley’s appearance, he is disturbed and discomfited, but still trying to hang onto denial and not face what he’s been told.
With Chistmas Past, adaptations often treat it like a psych session - see, you hate Christmas because you were so miserable during it. But in the book, that isn’t the point at all. Scrooge sees times when he was unhappy as a boy, but he also sees what comforted him during those times - reading and imagination, which his adult self would dismiss asfrivolous and unprofitable - and recaptures his joy in those things. He sees times when he was happy, like at Fezziwig’s Christmas party. And he sees how he’s become the kind of person who made his younger self unhappy rather than happy, and how easy it would to be otherwise.
He sees himself asan unhappy child, and wishes that he’d been kinder to the young boy singing carols at the door. He sees himself happily employed with a kind, generous and personable employer, who could create a vastly more pleasant workplace climate at trivial expense, and wishes he’d been nicer to Bob Cratchit.
And then he sees Belle, and is shown that his unhappiness is of his own making and the consequence of hus own choices. His being the selfish, avaricious person he is is not the consequence of Belle breaking up with him; it is the cause of it. She saw him already becoming that person, and chose not to follow him in that path. Her choices left her a happy, loving and loved woman; his left him unhappy and alone. Scrooge cannot bear this, and rejects and fights the spirit rather than face it.
But he has nonetheless already begun to change. Whereas he initially did not want to go with Christmas Past (“a night of unbroken sleep would be more conducive to [my welfare]”), he willingly goes with Christmas Present and expresses the desire to learn and benefit. He sees people in all manner of circumstances, good and bad, choosing to take joy in each other’s company and the comforts, small or great, around them. Many adaptations fail in this, focusing Scrooge’s attention on the idea that people dislike him (Mrs Cratchit; his nephew’s joke) but in the book Scrooge clearly greatly enjoys his nephew’s party, the nephew is being good-humoured and generous and expresses his goodwill towards Scrooge, and Scrooge doesn’t mind the joke at all. He sees the Cratchits making the best of what they have, and how he is making their lives harder than need be. He sees, in many ways and places, how he could be making others happy and being happy himself, rather than making evrryobe miserable, and it is an appealing picture. And Present calls him out, several times, on his past words and sentiments, and Scrooge repents them.
By the time he meets the Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come, he is already willing and prepared to change, and making deliberate plans to do so. The thing that I think is emphasized through the scenes with Yet To Come, as a driving home of the point, is that Scrooge’s actions up to this point have not only made him and others unhappy - they are an utter failure at getting Scrooge the one thing he had prioritized: wordly security, respect, and dignity. In Belle’s words, his turn to avarice in his youth was in hopes of avoiding the “sordid reproach” that the world has for poverty. He was fine, and even pleased, with being feared rather than loved - what he did not want was to be patronized, despized, looked down on.
And now he sees where that got him! His business partners don’t even care to attend his funeral. Men whose respect he hoped to have gained don’t even give him a second thought, and for the brief moment they do, think ill of him (“Old Scratch” is Victorian slang for the devil). His chambers and even his body are plundered (tomorrow’s reading is even more graphic about this, in some lines, than most adaptations). He’s buried in an obscure, untended, weedy churchyard, because no one cares enough about him to make other arrangements. He has none of the worldly respect, regard, dignity for which he turned to money as a protector. Past and Present showed that he was wanting the wrong things; but Future shows him that he wasn’t even achieving the things he thought he did want, amd was in fact achieving their opposite.
The point of Future, then, is not to convince Scrooge to change. He has already chosen that he desires to change. Future alone, without the earlier spirits, would be supremely ineffective; showing Scrooge that his servant and the people around him hate him, without first showing him that he can be happy and make other people happy, would only make him more of a misanthrope. This is not a “scare ‘em straight,” as some adaptations play it. The point of Future is as a final guard against backsliding, against regret: you are losing nothing by changing, because your current path is losing you even the paltry things you sought to gain by it.
Also, I hadn’t really registered this on previous reads, but this is the very near future - the Christmas one year after the period of the book. This is never stated outright, but Christmas Present says of Tiny Tim, “If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race will find him here” - meaning, no future Christmas. And, in the visions with Christmas Future, Tiny Tim has died only a few days ago. In the words of Dante (paraphrased) “the time was perilously short for turning.” The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come doesn’t teach the lesson - that’s the previous spirits - but he makes sure it sticks.
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shegetsburned · 5 months
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ꨄ 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨’𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞
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requested by anon!
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first of all, he’d need someone who understands how busy he can be and how important his job is. he won’t have a lot of time for you and his mind will always be wandering towards his work, so having a good understanding of his situation will help.
being his type would also mean being able to listen and comfort him during his darkest moments. he goes through horrible stuff every day and if his special someone doesn’t acknowledge these feelings, it might be difficult.
talking about feelings, he barely ever shows them, and his type would be someone that can discern these tiny signs of discomfort, anger and sadness and find a way to appease his heart.
his type would also be someone who likes to have fun. proposing a night out doing karaoke, going to the movies, going out with some friends. basically, changing his mind from everything happening.
being gojo’s ideal type also means being able to realize how lonely it is at the top. he’s one, if not, the greatest sorcerer of his generation. nobody can beat him and he can beat anybody. he’s the strongest. and it gets lonely. you have to be present for him.
having his sense of humour would definitely be a plus. seeing you laugh at his joke would brighten his day for sure.
okay, yeah. he’s kind of immature, in a way. so someone that knows how to handle this kind of personality, as in you won’t get angry because he does stupid shit and doesn’t care about the consequences of his actions.
also someone who knows how to bear with him. i know damn well he’d go days without giving you any news before getting back to you. you’re gonna have to find something to hold on to while he’s gone.
being satoru’s ideal type would include being able to satisfy his sweet tooth. making sure there are always sweets at home and sometimes baking him the pantries that he likes so much.
i feel like he likes someone that’s easily flustered. someone who quickly responds to his teasing and gets annoyed. honestly, if he’s not annoying you, is he really the one?
finally, being satoru gojo’s ideal type would include being as obsessed over him and his overall well-being as he is over you- but I feel like you already check that box if you’re reading this.
© shegetsburned 2023. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.
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how-very-superbat · 7 months
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Lengthy Superbat Fics!
I'm not sure how to really define 'lengthy' so I'm going for 20k+ (and Superman x Batman of course)
I just looked at how many I have and oh my god this is going to be very long. I will put a *** next to my favourites
From This Day Forward by Mithen (29k) When Kal-El of the House of El must marry a wealthy Terran for diplomatic reasons, Krypton will never be the same.
Action and Re-Action by Mithen (24k) In the first issue of Justice League after the reboot, Batman told Green Lantern he had never met Superman before. This story takes that statement at face value--but what if Bruce Wayne had met him before?
Stranger in a Strange Land by Mithen (27k) (Literally how does Mithen have time for all this) Kal-El of Krypton arrives on Earth as an adult. To the Justice League's surprise, Batman volunteers to introduce him to human ways. There's an immediate bond between the two men, but cultural differences and miscommunication complicate their relationship.
"Did you all have to get sick at the same time?" by Writer_loves_tropes (25k) Alfred is away on a well deserved vacation and Bruce is left to take care of the three Bat boys by himself. He's pretty sure he can easily take care of an eight year old, an eleven year old, and a twelve year old without having to call Alfred for backup. He's Batman. Batman can handle anything, right?
An Honest Conversation by frozenpotions (60k)*** “So Bruce’s longtime best friend had suddenly decided to start eye-fucking him at random. So what? Bruce was used to being the object of this kind of attention. It didn’t bother him. It was—should have been fine. The issue was that it was Clark, and Bruce had enough trouble remaining rational about him at the best of times.” or Bruce and Clark go from friends to lovers the long, long, long way round. Featuring a number of revelations, a well-meaning but nosy son (Dick) and, most prominently, two adult men being completely and utterly useless.
as to which may be the true by susiecarter (53k) It isn't difficult to go on in the wake of Superman's death. His resurrection, though, poses a problem—especially when it turns out there's no such thing as the right moment to explain that Martha Kent's obnoxious billionaire friend? Is also the man who tried really hard to shove a kryptonite spear through Clark's face.
all each riddles, when unknown by susiecarter (52k) Clark, struggling to deal with the events of Black Zero Day, is assigned a straightforward human-interest piece—on Wayne Enterprises. Then Batman catches Superman's attention, Clark Kent starts investigating Batman, Bruce Wayne spends a lot of time arguing with hitting on Clark Kent, and Bruce's best efforts to find a way to hurt Superman start to bear fruit. And then things get complicated.
and if the sun comes by susiecarter (30k) Steppenwolf isn't interested in accepting defeat and walking away. Superman's proven that he's the key to conquering Earth, and Steppenwolf returns with a plan for how to deal with him. A plan that Bruce is able to throw a wrench into—but not without certain unintended consequences.
Only Human by saltedpin (23k) Clark temporarily loses his powers, and while it's initially jarring, he gradually adjusts and tries to go about on a somewhat normal routine after telling his inner circle (which can also include the League since they're building themselves up). Problem is that he is somehow an even bigger danger magnet than Lois in this state.
Loading and Aspect Ratio byJUBE154 (45k) It had started out as a simple design, black everything with black outlines and black hood. It got a little more intense as the world went on, got wind of his ghost on the streets, and became scared of The Bat. So Bruce got a little more creative with it, Alfred and him had a good laugh over the name, the scare. So now the suit had a visible bat-theme, an insignia to drape in the shadows and to paint across the streets of Gotham: “The Batman can fly, you know, I’ve seen his wings.” (A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything.)
Whoever Falls First by liodain (34k) "There's more kryptonite out there. When the Superman returns, there's going to be an all-star battle royale in the criminal underworld. Every megalomaniacal freak will want a piece of it so they can get a piece of you. And some of them will manage. They'll weaponize it and won't hesitate to use it against you, and when that happens I will not have you flailing around like an idiot." aka: Bruce teaches Clark how to fight.
Repeat Your Favourite Mistakes And Love Them All Again by watchingthestars13 (160k)*** "Oh dear," came Alfred's surprised voice from the stairs, and all of them turned to look at him. His face was a little pale as he stared at all the boys, Jason's huge t-shirt, Tim's dress, Damian wrapped in a spare cape that was in the batmobile. At least Dick was able to fit into Tim's Red Robin pants, and Jason in Damian's Robin pants. Had Bruce been a lesser man, he would've said 'dear god, help'. All it took now was for their eyes to meet before Alfred composed himself.
Opposites Eventually Attract by Pandamomochan (34k) When an accident forces Clark and Bruce to be no more than ten feet apart from each other at all times, both heroes are forced to evaluate what their relationship really means to each other.
The Long Hangover by CoffioCake (55k)*** Clark knows he should take a break: His powers are on the fritz, he feels like shit, and Batman’s treating him like a liability. But Gotham's villains seem to have it in for Metropolis' Big Blue Boy Scout and Clark won't just wait around for answers. Batman might be the world’s greatest detective, but Clark Kent is one of the Daily Planet’s most tenacious reporters. This is definitely a job for Superman.
Conflated by PamiGami (31k) “Are you sure you’re feeling quite all right, sir? I was but fairly sure the head hadn't been impacted.” “No… no, please. Listen. I’m in his body, but I’m not him. I can prove it.” Ill at ease, Clark rubbed at the back of his head, not stopping to think about the weird sensation of feeling not his own curls, but somebody else’s hair. The man continued to stare at him with piercing and scolding eyes. “I believe you.” He nodded. “Mister Wayne doesn’t say please this early in the morning.”
the cost of being a good dad by Mawiiish (96k)*** Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are all tired of watching Bruce struggle with the stress of trying to handle the newly formed Justice League. He needs an outlet, he needs to relax, he needs to get out of the house, he needs... he needs to start dating. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?
Get Over It by rotasha (32k) Bruce needs to get over his inconvenient feelings for Superman and he meets an attractive reporter who he thinks can help him do just that. Little does he know...
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