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spider-stark · 1 year ago

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INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before.

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter.

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd.

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!”

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film.

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-”

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?”

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,”

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!”

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror.

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!”

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!”

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him.

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!”

“It’s not abuse-”

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.”

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is.

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!”

The expression on his face is downright laughable.

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk.

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory.

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you.

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you.

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.”

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas.

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.”

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!”

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile.

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect.

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort.

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life.

Not yet, at least.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.”

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong.

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?”

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too?

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter.

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating.

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?”

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.”

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs.

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-”

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel.

“If you need anything, call 911.”

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment.

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest.

You could definitely get used to having him around.

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room.

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier.

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame.

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance.

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps.

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now.

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night.

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence.

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind.

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it.

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent.

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest.

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction.

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar!

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment…

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil.

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space.

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver.

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night.

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear.

The room was messy, but empty.

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread.

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries…

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch.

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress.

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket.

You think of how you should follow that advice.

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you.

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force.

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep.

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat.

So this must be Peter 2.

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume.

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask.

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off.

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger.

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him.

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you.

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach.

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs.

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him.

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer.

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-”

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice.

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.”

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too.

But not him.

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.”

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.”

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.”

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!”

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.”

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?”

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.”

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.”

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man.

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building…

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.”

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home.

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,”

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.”

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds.

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence.

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught.

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.”

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?”

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses.

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,”

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat.

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.”

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it.

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist.

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.”

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.”

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt.

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care.

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!”

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.”

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?!

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?”

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech.

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!”

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.”

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot.

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems.

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes.

His eyes.

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters.

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?”

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe!

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.”

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood.

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?”

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

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karlachismylife · 8 months ago

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Tough Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.2

CW: fem!chubby!reader, mentions of animal marking/spraying/urinating

When you took a break in trying to get your behaviorist degree and took off to partake in this documentary on a whim, you certainly were prepared that it won't meet the highest expectations - life isn't a movie, after all, so perhaps you weren't hoping to find the purpose of life magically after you somewhat lost the direction, or to make an earth-shattering discovery that would turn behaviorist world upside down and earn you a place among scientific hall of fame. A distraction from an all-consuming apathy that creeped up in your life, perhaps, some useful experience close to your field of interest. Some connections and friendships, if nothing else - these were your (pretty reasonable) expectations.

Definitely not having to share a tent with a man you barely knew, because a huge hyena sprayed its stink all over your things, making it impossible to stay near your posessions for a long period of time.

Sure, lucky you - most of your stuff inside the backpack was very salvageable, your clothes and food intact. But everything that got under a direct attack - your little tent, sleeping bag, your favourite thermos and a little sitting mat, all that was most definitely due for a deep clean with some heavy scent remover, and your crew was in for a filming trip for the next several days without returning to your main dislocation at a sanctuary just next to the nature reserve you were filming in. So no cleaning and washing for you in aproximately a week. In short - you would've been fucked, sleeping in a smelly tent and sleeping bag or completely unprotected in a roofless vehicle, if not for Kir.

As you stand there with an apologetic expression on your face, hands clenched guiltily, he just laughs all your muttered thanks and apologies off, flashing you the friendliest of smiles as he sets up his own tent. A true knight in shining armor (some cargo pants and a blank, tight-fitting T-shirt in his case), Kir doesn't even let you help, telling you that your chatting is more than help enough as he prepares your new sleeping arrangements. Out of everyone on the crew he was the first to offer you to share his tent, and the fact that he had a backup sleeping bag only nailed the decision in.

"Don't worry, it's not a bother at all. If I was a newbie and something like this happened to me, you'd help me out too, I'm sure," he makes it hard to argue and feel like you're being a burden. Already a veteran of these filmings, Kir disctracts you from your upset mood with similar stories - about some scientist guy walking straight into a buffalo shitpile, a bunch of monkeys ravaging crew's backpacks and pulling out some poor girl's vibrator to play hot potato with it, a jackal finding one of the timelapse night cameras and flooding it generously... "They're animals, they just have a sense of humor like that. No one blames you for that guy taking a liking to you."

Kir's bright smile and cheerful words reassure you. He's being a gentleman about everything else too - allows you to take the higher ground to sleep there since the spot where his - and your now too - tent stands has a bit of an angle to it, lets you choose which sleeping bag you want, stays outside as you change for sleep even though you were perfectly fine doing it in the sleeping bag itself. The only un-gentlemanly thing Kir does is stay up with you until deep into the loud wild night, telling you more stories, already from his job at the sanctuary. As you whisper to each other and try to muffle your giggles, you hear rustling outside, someone walking around on soft paws, stopping several times at your tent and even sniffing loudly - you left your backpack nearby, unwilling to put the stinky thing into the tent. But the smell seems to work for you this time, since whatever it was, it leaves soon after.

In the morning you barely get out, a bit tired after your late night talkshow with Kir, only to learn that there were two hyenas in the camp - a bunch of the crew are crowded around a patch where the parprints are especially visible, getting the footage just in case it'll make into the final cut. One of the scientists measures the prints and estimates the sizes of both hyenas: both could be up to 1,8 meters in length judging from how wide apart their footprints lay. In other words - fucking huge, even for spotted hyenas.

"You think your friend from yesterday came with a buddy to spread some more perfume?" You scrunch your nose at Kir's joke and rush to check on your backpack, but it doesn't seem to be chewed on or reek worse than yesterday. Great news, honestly, since you'll be driving with that thing tucked into the back of a Land Rover while you follow the path of the lion pride you should be filming.

The sun is alredy high up and pretty ruthless by the time you come across any significant wildlife - and it's not lions, but something equally good for the documentary: a big herd of zebras. Once again, you are mesmerized, majestic striped horses so close to you that it doesn't seem real. They are aware of your crew's presence, but stay chill, perhaps seeing people and their weird appliances not for the first time.

Following your instructions, you carefully tread the tall grass to move a bit further from the parked vehicles and take some shots of the herd; you choose your favourite zebra - a mother with a little baby waving it's puny tail and constantly shoving its adorable snout under mother's belly for milk - and zoom in on her, setting quite a neat shot. After you settle the videocamera, you take out your personal one to take some photos, but suddenly the zebras perk up, ears twitching and chewing coming to an end. You lower your camera at first, confused by their reactions - you didn't hear anything? - but then lift it up againt to search for the source of zebras' worries through zoom.

And source of worries you find.

Two hunched silouettes, out in the open, dark manes fluffed up and tails in a clearly aggresive stance - a couple of enormous, compared to the zebras, hyenas are creeping up to them, hind legs tucked up under their bulky bodies, ready to pounce... and then one of them, a smaller one with darker fur, darts forward.

A hunting hyena is an impressive view, their speed exceeding what one might expect just looking at their burly, asymmetrical builds - but exactly that legs length difference allows them to speed so fast that your camera struggles to capture them. But what's impressive onscreen, is fucking terrifying in real life.

Because a herd of zebras is panicking at the sight of a predator closing in on one of them, and in panic they start to run.

You're in their way.

The sound of dozens of hooves hitting dry, solid ground mixes with your own blood pumping in your ears. In an act of brain malfunction, you somehow find yourself more worried about the expensive camera (it's not even yours) being trampled than yourself, and try to pick it up with the tripod - seconds dragging on like molten resin boiling under the cruel noon sun. The ground is trembling under the scared animals, dust and dry grass up in the air.

A high-pitched sound breaks you out of stupor. Loud cackling with an undertone of alarm gets closer too, and as you stumble backwards, a big dark form zooms past you, rushing fearlessly towards the fear-crazed zebras. It's reckless even for a carnivoure they're afraid of: nothing can guarantee that the herd will stop or turn away as the hyena approaches them head-on, and you prepare yourself to witness a gruesome scene of a hunter falling by the hooves of hunted.

But it somehow works. Last moment, the zebras notice the hyena flying at them with a scary laugh and change the direction of their fleeing route, less lucky among them falling and getting pushed over, but hyenas - more of them now, four, it seems? - don't bother pouncing the fallen ones, putting all their efforts into... simply chasing their prey away?

Confused and still stunned into a frozen mode, you watch the little baby zebra buck its tiny legs at a hyena barking at it lazily and clamping its huge maw, capable of crushing huge bones, on thin air. Trotting for a few more meters, the predator stalls and then simply turns away, casting you a glance before slowly treading back to its buddy. The one whose disheveled mane and wide stance you recognize immediately.

Blinking, you finally find yourself able to collect your equipment, although with trembling hands - your shoulders are still tense in a protective manner, and you flinch, when Kir rushes to you to help with the heavy camera.

"Oh my god, are you okay? I thought I'd shit myself when I saw them running at us," he looks sickly, you're probably no better. You dump the tripod and the camera into his arms happily, clutching your own, and walk on stumbling legs back to the rover.

You're met with a pair of bit wet eyes when you finally get to the car.

Somehow a single hyena - where did its buddies go? - doesn't seem all that scary after you nearly avoided being stomped by a hundred zebras, so you take a few more steps before finally remembering to be cautious. Kir is just a few meters away, loading the camera into the car, so it means he walked past the hyena unharmed, right?

You don't get to ask that question or shoo the animal away: just like yesterday, it appears up next to you in a gracious pounce, nuzzling your hip again. The noise that leaves its throat is absolutely horrid, an annoying screeching, sightly hoarse and just as high-pitched as its laugh. Wagging its tail, the hyena circles you several time, bumping into your legs - each time you don't respond or move, the screech gets only louder, until you give up.

"Stop it! Hush! S-stop yelling, shut up!" Bold of you to try and order a wild animal around. Maybe that's exactly why it works - the noise cuts off abruptly, the hyena taking a step back to plop its chonky ass on the ground. It looks at you just like a tamed dog would - mouth slightly agape in a toothy smile, head tilted and ears fluttering, as if it's eager to hear what else you have to say.

You're not made of steel to stay indifferent an wary at this sight.

"Huh. So you do listen sometimes. I guess you just hated my backpack that much," you still grumble at the hyena, and it flattens its round ears with guilt, slowly dipping down to the ground. Aren't they supposed to be like cats? But this one looks at you with the definition of puppy eyes. "You could've done worse... and I guess you saved me today. Thank you, Stinky."

The hyena lights up and sits back up with its chest puffed out as it hears you acknowledge the way it steered the scared herd away from you and your crew, but all its pride fizzles out as soon as you give it a name. You get a disapproving look and a loud giggle, clearly mocking your sense of humor in naming the hyena.

"Don't look at me like that, I can't sleep in my own sleeping bag now because of you. Have to share a tent with Kir," you nod at the young man sitting in the driver's sit with an amused expression, and the hyena turns to look at him too. Judging by the way Kir's smile fades, the look he recieved from the animal wasn't a kind one.

"Come on, we have to get a move on, still about fifty kilometers to cover today," he mutters, and you try to move past Stinky (oh yes, you're keeping the name) to the car, but it suddenly jumps to its feet and barrels at you again, rubbing at your legs and nuzzling your thighs. It even shoves its snout into your crotch, tail flailng up high, but the loud sound of an engine starting right behind it finally scares the weird animal away. It trots to the side, stops to look at you again, as if checking if you're still stumbling after being scared half to death by the herd, then resumes its leisurely pace, waving its tail.

You huff, getting into your seat, and dust your pants of some coarse fur the rascal left.

"Weird fucking guy," you mutter about the hyena more to yourself than yo Kir, who already jokes about you being a hyena whisperer. "And stinky, too."

You'll just have to hope his buddies won't try to follow into his pawsteps.

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 3

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog

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dreamlandcreations · 7 months ago

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Imagine Halbrand trying to avoid looking at you...

Imagine Halbrand trying to avoid looking at you because he knows the moment your eyes meet his he will fall in love with you...

He knows there's this concept of love at first sight for elves and he witnessed something similar with the Ainur, finding the one who was meant to be yours for eternity was always a reason for celebration but witnessing it and feeling it was entirely different.

As an elf you would need to lock your gaze with him to see the truth in his spirit, he was no elf though.

He felt something when he arrived at the elven city but now he knows. Being in your presence, feeling your soul unknowingly call out to him, hearing your voice, like an enchantment taunting him, it was torture. It terrified him like nothing else in his long existence.

He never thought he would have this, well, he never even thought of it as something that would interest him. Part of him was angry for losing control over his decisions once more, after all, this was decided for him, not by him. On the other hand he knew this could be a gift but he felt fear at the thought of being tied to someone, of being so vulnerable to another being.

The inner battle in him took too much of his attention and he didn't realise he was turning in the wrong direction until it was too late.

You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, the idea seemed to be ridiculous to you. How could you get to know someone enough in a simple glance to decide to spend the rest of, well, forever, with them? A glimpse into the soul, they said. A glimpse... Ridiculous.

Except, that was all it took...

#elf!reader #smith!reader #?#love at first sight #soulmate au #???#mairon #mairon x reader #halbrand #halbrand x reader #sauron #sauron x reader #mairon imagine #halbrand imagine #sauron imagine #my stuff #my fics

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the-tardis-is-blue · 21 days ago

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It is late and I have Thoughts about The Well

Something I thought was interesting about the Midnight Entity in this episode was that the two main people it latched onto (Aliss and Belinda) had one thing in common: both of them wanted to go home. We know (since it knows the Doctor's name) that it's got some kind of telepathic powers, so it would definitely be able to tell a person's motivations, and both Aliss and Belinda wanted something that was beneficial to it (breaching containment, essentially). In fact, it's possible that the only reason the Entity wanted to leave Midnight in the first place was because of Aliss!

The Entity's primary motivation in Midnight seemed to be discovery. It copied the people in the bus and then, once it had learned enough about their behaviour, moved on to controlling them, whether telepathically or through verbal manipulation. It started pushing their boundaries - emotionally, logically, even telepathically in the Doctor's case (it knowing his name means it was presumably rooting around in his mind, possibly because it was curious about the Doctor's mysteriousness, especially because it seemed to distress the other passengers that he was lying to them). And what it saw was that almost all of the people in that bus - pretty small sample size, but what's an Entity to do - eventually decided on killing as a solution: at first the Doctor, but then the hostess threw it (in the body of Skye) out of the bus.

I don't think that motivation has changed at all by the time we get to The Well. It's still investigating that human (or not, as the case may be) instinct to lash out at things that are frightening, especially the unknown. Why else would it jump between murderers? Maybe it's trying to understand what drives a person to that point, how bad things have to get before somebody will resort to killing.

(I saw somebody point out that the way it throws its victims in the air is very similar to the way the hostess threw it out of the bus, which is really interesting! It's not only learning, but it's also applying what it's learned to its next big experiment.)

So then it ends up with the last person alive: Aliss, who shot presumably once in fear and then at least once again in self-defence. But Aliss has something else driving her other than her fear: her daughter. She doesn't want to kill anybody - all she wants is to get out of here so that she can go home to her daughter.

Through her, the Entity learns about something other than fear, and wants to get a taste of it. So from that point onwards, the goal isn't to investigate people: the goal is to get off Midnight and see what's out there that's so incredible it would drive Aliss to murder to be able to experience again.

Which is why it then picks Belinda. Belinda's not a killer - she's the opposite, she's a medic - but the one thing she most desperately wants is out. Even more than Aliss, even more than the Doctor (whose primary aim was to save Aliss and catch a glimpse of the Entity), Belinda wants to go home.

(Side note, that's possibly why the Entity didn't jump to the Doctor when he offered? The Doctor doesn't have particularly clear motivations. He's said before that the reason he needs companions is so that he can continue to see the universe is through their eyes, or else it'd start to feel boring and stagnant. Through the Doctor's eyes, the Entity would get to see the universe, but it wouldn't see how it motivates people, how it's so incredible and brand-new and exciting.

Alternatively, the Entity has already possessed the Doctor! It already knows everything it could want to know about him. He's just not interesting anymore.)

And of course, it does in fact get off the planet. Maybe not the way it originally planned, but it does accomplish its goal.

Which makes me a little worried as to what aspect of human[oid] nature it will investigate next.

#doctor who #the well #musings #doctor who spoilers #dw spoilers #my posts

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bunji-enthusiast · 10 months ago

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Haiiii I hope you’re doing well! If it’s okay, can I request a scenario or headcannons about lancelot being with a female s/o who is also Tristan’s sister?

We'll Be Countin' Stars

there were similar request to yours, and lately seems to like this particular pairing, lmao. I don’t judge though, it’s actually really cute to think about <3

He could lie, he couldn't, Lancelot never would've expected to actually fall in love with you. But it simply just flowed, like it was right?... He wasn't completely sure, but one thing he was sure of was the fact it was authentic. Though the prince of Benwick found himself to be getting quite the earful of endless teases and conversation from a very protective mother, Queen Elizabeth. Lancelot never expected to find out how close you and your mother were until that happened.

Mutiple lessons of love he forever wished he could sink in the river, but the best lesson that had come to pass was with you. Despite the endless torment of thoughts he had, that he was doing you wrong, that he would ruin you. It all just went away, Lancelot just eventually understood he needed to give this time with you. Though if he were to be honest, he never expected his eventual partner to be you, Tristan's sister.

Lancelot knew that he was most likely never going to hear the end of it from Tristan and other friends alike, his parents too! He though he was gonna die inside every time he heard the subject rose into conversation, you had expressed the same sentiments to his relief, but it had seemed word of the whole thing was never going to go away.

However, without a shadow of a doubt, Lancelot will kill for you. Be it; to save you, on your behalf (if you can't find yourself doing it), or gather food. It is always done with no hesitation whatsoever, and in adept time.

Lancelot has extremely good photographic memory, and seemingly memorizes to some the most insignificant details of your appearances. You share similarities to that of your brother, but you seemed to look more like your father. Whether it's a mole on the cheekbone, a birthmark, he will absolutely remember it. Though he doesn't mean it in an odd sense, he just thinks they are endearing aspects added to your appearance as a whole.

The blonde remembers what you like and don't like, food-wise of course. So you are sometimes surprised with your favorite snack, and Lancelot will absolutely refute your accusations with a bullshit excuse, the blush on his face very clearly betraying what he says. Though he can never get enough of that gentle, content expression on your face when you get to eat your favorite snacks (it's one of his favorite things to see, but his ass will not admit that).

On certain nights, he takes you on a high-end rooftop to watch the night sky, and maybe converse in ways he would never be able too with anyone else. Lancelot can appreciate the deep meaning thoughts in your words, and seemingly just fires off another thought for you to think about and ramble off of. He just likes hearing your voice admittedly, and in particular what you think about the subjects discussed. Though, there are points in which you just suddenly interrupt your rambling by pointing to the night sky when there is a shape of interest.

If there are ever reasons that you may get overwhelmed, Lancelot does his best to reassure and comfort you discreetly. For example, if large crowds overwhelm you (Lancelot honestly agrees), he will lead you away and take the time to calm you down.

When both of you have time off to actually rest and recuperate, the most that will be done on your day off; is just simply cuddling each other as one and the other are to lazy too move, admiring the general scenery, or just people-watching. People-watching is somehow highly entertaining, you don't know why, but it is.

One of the main ways Lancelot expresses his love for you is acts of service, though he can be reliant on physical touch at times. But mainly when focused on acts of service; Lancelot will offer his help when you are having trouble, offer to assist you in training sessions, gift you things you mentioned you like, cares for you should you be afflicted with a major injury or illness.

He doesn't really like it, but Lancelot admittedly does get possessive of you (like father like son, come on). He rarely behaves this way, but when he does he is fully aware of it and hates it. Lancelot knows he shouldn't be so worrisome in certain circumstances, but he can't help but be possessive of you even when you can handle yourself. He tries to be better about it though.

Though you were born with both inherent traits from both parents, you inherited more of your fathers traits and abilities compared to your brother who looked more like your mother. Which had meant your demonic abilities were the more dominant genes compared to your goddess blood, and you sincerely found yourself to be at an impasse. Like Tristan, you didn't have an easy time in coming to terms with your powers. Though, Lancelot always reassured you that he could handle you if you ever lost control of yourself.

The end-game in which the admittance of your feelings for each other cultivated, was that Lancelot had admitted he was in-love with you. Which at first was an attempt, but you had admitted the same, despite the embarrassment however it had made things easier.

For the most part, you do end up cooking for the both of you (if you can cook well). Most of your cooking greatly reminds him of his parents, but he does appreciate the good-natured work and love you put into your cooking. Though off-handedly, he is the one to cook, however he does follow off a list sometimes. He CANNOT remember most recipes off the top of his head for the life of him, it annoys him.

In the beginning of your relationship, both of you realized that neither of you knew next to nothing about maintaining a good relationship. So it was a bit of a process, but during the way, you had gained good memories of laughable moments. But the experience earned had allowed him to take the lead when it came to dates, he was a bit more of a solace and peace kind of guy when it came to dates. Taking you out on the reverie, or just sitting by the lake, maybe hanging out from tree to tree as well.

One of his main favorite things about you, as cheesy as it may seem, is your smile. Lancelot always wants to find a way to elicit it from you, it's like it re-charges his energy immensely the moment he lays eyes on your smile.

However, the very thing he hates the most about you is your inability to accept help when you really needed it. Lancelot knows it's hard, for god's sakes, but why are you refusing help? It can be pretty damn hard to make it through, but he does try his best to respect your decisions wherever possible.

He dearly appreciated your support whenever it had come down to family issues with his parents, it was sometimes difficult to get along with them at times. His father most of all, so who knows where he'd be if not for your support? Lancelot had delved pretty deeply into his issues with his father, and you did hear a lot, which was surprising. But this was part of being with one another, yet you were glad he had trusted you this much to admit such things to you alone.

In return, Lancelot does his best to offer some discreet support when you have issues/disputes with either Tristan or your parents. Sometimes he is unsure of what it may be, and sometimes he knows why you had such arguments.

Between you both, Lancelot covers for physical strength and physical weakness. You cover for emotional welfare and more strategic thinking, many view you both to be a particularly headstrong couple.

#mokushiroku no yonkishi lancelot #lancelot 4koa #lancelot mokushiroku no yonkishi #lancelot 4kota #lancelot x you #lancelot x reader #lancelot #mokushiroku no yonkishi #mokushiroku no yonkishi x reader #seven deadly sins x reader #sds x reader #7ds x reader #nanastu no taizai x reader #nnt x reader

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cursedbycain · 1 month ago

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raindrops - Cain x Lane

tagging: @rc-catalog

synopsis: maybe a meeting in the rain has it's upsides

tw: allusions to sex, rated T

wc: 1.2k

An outdoor meeting of the squad would have been fine in any other circumstance. But standing under the ledge and looking out at the rain so heavy she can barely see a foot in front of her, Lane regrets ever putting on the metal dog tag.

She also regrets not keeping the umbrella Yan had given her. Letting a quiet sigh escape her lips, she glances down at herself with regret. So much for the eyeliner and nice way she’d done her hair.

Of course, the only reason she cared was because he hadn’t seen it yet.

Cain is probably already at the meeting, most definitely waiting for her. He had left for patrol early in the morning. She has a faint memory of his lips pressing against her forehead in her haze of sleep but it could have been a figment of her imagination. Seeing him is part of the reason she had hurried out of her room once the crackle of her transponder had quieted. In her excitement, she hadn’t checked the window.

She’s about to take a step into the rain when cold fingers gently clasp her wrist. The feeling is familiar, and she already knows who she’ll see when she turns around.

“You’re late.” Is all Cain says, a knowing smile on his face.

“Technically we’re both late.” Lane notes and he shakes his head.

“I was sent to come find you. The bet is you were getting ready.” He casts an interested gaze over her face, her hair, and her body before locking eyes with her again.

“Noah owes Lester his rations tonight.” She can’t help but smile.

“They’re wrong. I just don’t want to get wet.” She gestures to the still torrential rain. Cain is already soaked but the feeling never seemed to bother him. Perhaps it was his ability to self heat. His hair is wet and pushed back, similar to the time on the platform. Water drips off of his coat and she can’t help but feel bad. He had probably been getting soaked since he left for patrol. He shakes his wings off, water flying off them and making her frown as tiny droplets fly at her.

When they’re thoroughly dry, the one closest to her raises into a ninety degree angle above her, a wall of soft white feathers. Cain’s hand slips to her waist. He gently pulls her closer and she finally realizes what he’s doing.

It’s a makeshift umbrella.

The gesture tugs at her heartstrings a bit. When she looks up at Cain’s expression, he’s smiling warmly at her.

“Now you’ll stay dry. Come on.” He leads her to the meeting spot, where the rest of the squad is.

There’s only one umbrella, clutched in the Generals hands. It’s pathetically small, barely enough to cover him and Anna. Both of them are still soaked underneath as if the item made a recent appearance.

Everyone else is absolutely drenched.

Lane suppresses her smile as they walk over. Aside from a stray drop or two on her clothes, Cain’s large wing does a tremendous job of protecting her. It’s not unlike the time he had walked (dragged) her and Anna through the snow in Rotkov.

But this time, the gesture means something very different.

When they finally reach the squad, each member shoots Lane a jealous look. It makes her slightly nervous but Cain’s grip on her waist is oddly comforting. When she glances at his face, she notices his raised eyebrow, as if daring anyone to comment on their position.

“Now we can start.” Despite the water dripping off of him, Dmitry is still the picture of a general as he discusses the squads next move at the base, now that he knows Donovan is no longer as trustworthy as before.

She has ears everywhere, which is the reason for this outdoor meeting.

As much as the squad understands it, the shivers makes it clear this has not been Dmitry’s brightest idea.

He drones on for a while. Lane tunes most of it out. She knows her purpose, her task. There’s really not much need for her to be here. But with Cain’s hand pressed against her waist, she doesn’t have any complaints.

When Cain’s body jolts, she glances up. His face flashes with irritation but she realizes quickly it’s not directed at her. Peaking past him, she understands why.

Lester stands on the other side of him, attempting to raise his other wing to cover himself from the rain. The immortal remains unamused. He keeps his wing firmly pressed down and his free hand swats at Lester.

The soldier casts a pleading look at her, as if she will convince Cain to save him from the rain. She merely shrugs in response. Lester is well aware that she and the immortal have long since passed the line of friendship. The special treatment had been apparent for a while.

The whole squad knew of it. But they didn’t talk about it. Probably cause there wasn’t much to talk about. In the middle of the apocalypse, who slept with who was the least of their concerns.

Lester gives up his attempt to cover himself, pulling away from the two. A quiet huff of laughter escapes Lane and she can tell Cain is equally amused.

“That wasn’t very angelic of you.” She mutters under her breath, knowing he’ll hear. He looks at her with a small smirk, his eyes that familiar shade of red.

“I’m not that kind of angel.” His wing shifts slightly to block another gust of rain, and he tugs her closer. His hand slips from her waist to her hip. As Dmitry continues his talk, Cain’s thumb slips under the edge of her shirt. He gently strokes her bare skin and she has to will away the images of the night they spent together.

He was totally doing it on purpose.

Finally, Dmitry relents, and the squad scatters to take cover from the rain. Soon enough, it’s just the two of them.

“I should get back to translating.” She turns to look at him. He shifts his body to face her and his other wing moves up to keep her fully covered. Rain still slips in from the part of his head he can’t cover and she frowns. When she reaches up to brush a droplet off his cheek, he dips his head down to lean into her touch.

“You look nice today. I would hate to see it ruined.” She’s about to remark that a good way to avoid that would be to get out of the rain but then his lips are on hers.

It’s a gentle kiss at first. Not unlike the one they had in the showers. He’s slightly hesitant, as if waiting for her to pull away. But she melts into it quickly, hands reaching up to thread through the dripping blond strands.

They only pull away when their lungs begin to burn. Cain’s fingers brush against her jaw, longing in his grey-blue eyes.

“Let’s go to my room. You can help me translate.” She offers. He recalls the last time she has asked that, eyes flashing red.

“Of course.”

When they finally reach the porch and his wings return to their position at his back, there isn’t a single raindrop on her.

#cain x lane #cainlane #cainlane🍷#romance club #rc hsr #heaven's secret requiem #cain🪽#rc lane #rc heaven's secret requiem #lane📕#rc cain #rc cainlane

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capricornlevi · 1 year ago

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mild nsfw // mdni

roommate!choso who walks home with you after a frat party, keeps you up late talking and venting and oversharing in your cramped little kitchen, and somehow, some way, manages to convince you to help him practice making out.

he claims whole-heartedly that it's because he likes this one girl on campus and is worried she'll turn him down for his lack of experience; he hasn't done much of anything with anyone, and it's a real point of concern with him.

it's not that you think it's something he needs to worry about -- there's nothing wrong with being new to something, especially something as personal as sex -- but you see his point in that it could help him to build confidence.

(that, plus the fact that you had two margaritas: your self-professed horny drink.)

it all seems like a perfectly reasonable idea to be honest, and you press your lips to his without a second thought.

the first night and the two after it consist of just that -- kissing, no tongue. he's nervous, you can tell by the way he stiffens under your touch, how goosebumps form on his arm as you try to guide it to your waist. it makes sense, you figure, since it must be awkward learning this with a friend, especially when you're interested in someone else. you guide him gently and carefully, letting him lead and explore what he likes, and as it turns out, what he likes and what you like are far more similar than you'd expected.

then on week two of this little arrangement, you start incorporating tongue. it's slow, easy, and he melts into it. you're not sure how, but he's better at this part than he was at just kissing, licking into your mouth in a way that makes you see stars --

-- even though this is purely educational, of course.

but then on week three, your thigh grazes against something hard in the front of his shorts. figures, since it's a natural biological reaction, except his hips close the distance, seeking out your touch as though he's craving it. testing the waters, you grind against him and within a second he breaks the kiss, his head tipping back with a low groan he's been holding in for some time.

you crane your neck to press a slow, wet kiss against his exposed throat. as you do so, feeling the reverberations of moans and 'fuck, that feels good' throughout your body, you start to piece a few things together: the way his eyes tend to linger on you as you make your towel-clad dash from the shower to your room, the pretty little blush he gets on his cheekbones when you ask if he's bringing anyone to suguru's valentines party, the fact you've never seen him spend one-on-one time on campus with anyone but --

you pull away and he looks down to meet your gaze, lips kiss-slick and pupils blown.

perfect time to ask your question.

"choso, who's this girl again?"

#choso x reader #choso x you #may tries to write #cw alcohol #choso is so pretty i wanna cry when writing him

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plasterbrain · 19 days ago

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Hello. First I’d like to say that I love Pizza Game so much. Second, sorry if you’re the wrong person to ask about this and/or you’ve already been asked about this, but what advice would you give to someone who wants to make a visual novel but has like zero idea about where to start, if you don’t mind me asking? I had an idea for a visual novel recently that I really like, but I admittedly have like none of the skills I would assume are requisite to creating a good visual novel aside from writing. Or any real knowledge of what the process for crafting a good visual novel would be.

Yes, I am aware that I am a fool. No, I will not give up on this endeavor.

Also, one aspect in particular that I’d like to ask you for advice about, since it’s a bit similar to a mechanic in Pizza Game that I feel like I haven’t seen a lot of other visual novels use (unless this is a thing that shows up in a lot of visual novels and I don’t know because of the few visual novels I’ve experienced Pizza Game is the only one I actually know about that does it) except actually diegetic instead of just a quality of life feature, is how to make the dialogue roll back like it does in Pizza Game. The main character of the story idea I want to make has the ability to do that as an actual superpower, so however I end up making this visual novel, it’d have to include something like that as a feature. And I’d need to make the game able to acknowledge the fact that you’ve used it and probably also give the player an action prompt for “something interesting will happen if you rewind here,” which I feel like is going to be a pain and a half to accomplish in a way that looks good, so any advice you can give me would be appreciated, though I understand if the second part is too complex for you to just puzzle out how to do for a rando asking for your advice on Tumblr. Admittedly I could probably make the main character’s power… basically anything else, really, since the main point is that they have a superpower and not that it’s specifically time powers, but with the way I’m setting up the story and challenge of the game, the character having a time-rewinding power pretty solidly sets them up as the person who has to do everything without it seeming too… “I know the answer to this problem, but figure it out and tell everyone for me, Naegi.” So I’m kinda attached to that idea, even if it causes me a great deal of annoyance to figure out.

Thanks in advance if you have any advice to give me. And again, thank you for making Pizza Game, truly the best visual novel of all time.

Hi (sorry for late response),

My advice for "how to make visual novel" starts and ends with Ren'Py! It's free, open source, and easy to use for people who just want to write! Nearly every Western indie visual novel uses it, and for good reason.

As for your question... The good news is that rollback is actually a built-in feature of Ren'Py. You probably didn't suspect as much, because it's kind of an unusual behavior to include in games by default and can "cheapen" the seriousness of VN-style branching narratives. (It's hard to make choices matter if you can just undo them 10 seconds later.) Doki-Doki Literature Club and Slay the Princess (I think?), arguably the two most famous Ren'Py games, both disabled it for this reason.

The bad news is that having the game acknowledge use of rollback is kind of difficult. Pizza Game does it twice iirc, but only as quick early gags, because it requires cluttering your script with persistent variables. If your game uses this as a central mechanic, your code will be hard to read, write, and test... I do not recommend it.

If you still want to give your character a visual-novel ludo-narrative superpower, there a certainly other options:

Use the tried-and-true "wow you've completed this scene before? here's different text!"

Have dialog that only shows up in the text history window (I've seen at least one game do this and it was pretty neat)

"Stop" time using audio/visual effects and let your character investigate the scene/people's thoughts or something

Make the game create/detect files in the game folder (a DDLC staple, ofc, though I've seen other meta Ren'Py games fool around with this)

...Or peruse the Ren'Py documentation and see what you can come up with.

Ganbatte, Anon-chan! (•̀ω•́)૭✧

#visual novel #renpy #pizza game #gamedev #ask

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upat4amwiththemoon · 2 years ago

Text

Elevator

Summary: Feelings are terrifying.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: bit of a mean Wanda, panic attack-ish

Word count: 1546

a/n: Forced proximity trope from the second trope challenge! Tropes second chance romance and hurt/comfort are still without a character

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Wanda is considered to be a friendly person, she spends one on one time with everyone equally, buys people thoughtful gifts, and initiates conversations. So, she would say she has a fairly close relationship with everyone at the Avenger’s tower, except with the newest recruit.

Y/N intimidates her. She isn’t scared of her, everyone knows she could take anyone on a fight, but she does avoid her. She is worried she’ll catch feelings if she spends time with her, and she hasn’t had the best experiences with love. All the people she has loved are dead, she doesn’t want that to happen again. Which is why, she’d rather steer clear from the new member of the team.

Wanda frowns as she plays with the rings on her finger. She doesn’t enjoy being so cold towards Y/N, but she knows how her feelings work. Y/N’s bubbly personality will draw her in and suddenly she’d find herself in love with the newcomer.

The elevator makes a bing sound as the doors open in front of Wanda. She steps inside and leans against the railing, thinking over if there’s anything else she could do to tame her feelings.

Y/N would says he has made a good impression to all the members of Avengers during the five months she has been there, except Wanda Maximoff. She isn’t sure why the witch doesn’t like her, but she tries to ignore it, she can’t please everyone. However, it is incredibly difficult when she really wants to please everyone.

When she first met Wanda, she though they would be good friends. They’re likeminded people with similar values, and same interests, like sitcoms. She actually heard about Wanda’s love of sitcoms from Natasha, after hearing they share a hobby, she tried to initiate some kind of contact with Wanda, but got instantly turned down. After a few more efforts of trying go get closer to her, and being brutally ignored, Y/N took the hint and stopped.

She started avoiding Wanda, not wanting to be hurt by her again. Y/N really just wanted to be friends with all of her coworkers, like everyone else seemed to be, but for some reason she was never able to have that with Wanda.

Which is why, Y/N’s eyes widen as the elevator door opens, and she sees Wanda standing inside of it. She debates ignoring the elevator and waiting for the next one, but she is already late for her run with Steve. With her eyes on the ground and hands clasped together, she steps on the elevator, pressing the correct floor and pushing herself against furthest wall away from Wanda.

Their bodies are tense as they wait for their floors to come, for some reasons it seems to be taking forever. The small elevator is full of awkward silence, it’s suffocating them. They want out.

A loud screeching noise and the elevator’s sudden stop in movement frightens Y/N, which in turn makes her lose her balance. Luckily for her, Wanda’s fast reflexes make sure she doesn’t hit the ground, unluckily for the both of them, Y/N is in Wanda’s arms. With quick moves, Wanda pushes Y/N up and away from her. She goes over to the buttons and starts pressing them frantically, but nothing happens.

They’re stuck.

Y/N pats her pockets, but she left her phone in her room. Sighing, she sits down to the floor, breathing in and out deeply so she doesn’t start panicking. Small, locked spaces certainly weren’t her favorite. She closes her eyes, trying to ignore the way Wanda slams the button and curses under her breath. Her mind is starting to reel somewhere she doesn’t want it to go, the fact she is stuck with someone who doesn’t like her isn’t helping the situation.

Wanda slams the buttons one last time before going back to the corner she was standing in, even the call for help button isn’t working. She is pretty sure Tony never check these things when he builds them, being so certain anything he builds will never break, if only he wasn’t so cocky.

Her eyes steer over to Y/N. She can hear the start of her panicked thoughts, she isn’t doing it on purpose, but her thought are too loud to ignore. “Someone will find us soon.” She states, trying to provide some sort of comfort, but her clipped tone only makes Y/N’s body tense more. Wanda frowns. This is the first time she can fully see the effect her actions have on Y/N.

Has she really been meaner than she thought?

She debates whether she should go to Y/N and try to comfort her in a better way, but she decides against it. Instead, she stands there, unmoving, staring at Y/N’s huddled form.

Y/N’s breaths in and out are already shorter than normally. Her head feels light and the tips of her finger are starting to tingle. Her mind has a tendency to betray her, it’s making Y/N believe that the small room is quickly emptying out of air, that soon she’ll suffocate. Her body follows along. Her lungs aren’t using all of their capacity, and her hands and feet are going numb.

Opening her eyes, Y/N rubs her thighs roughly, trying to bring back her ability to think rationally, but it isn’t working. Her emotions have taken over.

Wanda kneels in front of Y/N. She takes hold of her hands, making Y/N pay attention to her. “We are going to be okay, there’s plenty of air for the both of us, okay? We aren’t going to suffocate.” Her voice is gentle, but still stern so it would go through to Y/N. “Don’t listen to your brain, listen to me. There’s no need to panic.”

She hates that Wanda is seeing her in such a vulnerable state, which is somehow making her able to force herself into a slightly calmer state. Wanda’s touch is also helping, but she’ll never let her know that.

Once Y/N is taking deeper breaths again, she pulls her hands out of Wanda’s and moves her body so she isn’t facing the witch. The action makes Wanda frown, but she just sits down next to her. “Why do you hate me?” The question comes out so quickly, even Y/N is surprised.

The two stare at each other, Y/N’s eyes wide and Wanda’s mouth agape as she tries to get hold of the right words. She doesn’t hate Y/N, quite the opposite actually, but how is she supposed to let her know that after being so cold to her.

“It’s fine.” Y/N states before Wanda can even say anything. “I’m sorry, for whatever I did.” She mumbles.

“No,” Wanda sets her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “I don’t hate you.” Her voice comes out much quieter than she would’ve liked.

“I’m not sure where you’re getting at.”

Sighing, Wanda looks at the floor. Even she isn’t sure where she is getting at. “I don’t hate you, I never have. I just…I don’t know how to say this.” She mumbles, her brows furrows as she concentrates on deciding the best words to use. “I’m sorry,” her eyes move up to meet Y/N’s, “I really am. I handled this wrong. I avoided you, because, I felt something more than I should have the second I met you.”

“Are you saying you like me?”

“Yes.”

“So you decided to ignore me and make me think you hate me?”

“..yes.”

Y/N nods slowly, taking in all the new information she just received.

“I’m really sorry. I know it’s not justifiable, but I’ve had a crappy past with love.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t want those things to repeat.” There’s a gentle smile on her face as she reminiscences her family and Vision. “Maybe we could start over?”

Y/N looks at Wanda. Some petty part of her wants to make Wanda feel the same way she did all those months, but she isn’t like that, besides, she has heard about the hardships Wanda has gone through. “My name is Y/N, I’m your new recruit.” She gives her hand for Wanda to shake.

With a laugh, Wanda shakes her hand, making Y/N smile as well. “I’m Wanda. It’s great to have you here. Would you like to g-“

The elevator whirrs back to life, starting its way back towards the floors Y/N and Wanda need to be on. They scramble to their feet, ecstatic to get out of the elevator. The elevator stops at Y/N’s floor first, when the doors open, the two glance at each other with big smiles.

Y/N walks out of the elevator, but stops. “What were you going to ask?” She turns around to look at Wanda.

“I was going to ask if you’d like to get a coffee with me sometime.”

“I’d like that.” Y/N smiles, leaning her head as the doors start to slide closed. “Pick me up from my room whenever!”

“I will!” The doors close, and Wanda grins as the elevator starts moving towards her floor. She is going to make things right.

#marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #mcu fanfiction #fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female!reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #forced proximity #upat4amwiththemoon trope challenge

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restwellsoon · 1 year ago

Text

Afterhours

Minors and ageless blogs do not interact (liking/reblogging) or follow! You will be blocked!

Pairing: Jason Todd x F!Reader

Summary: The Red Hood decides to confront you after work regarding a curious rumor you started as an informant.

/ “You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

Warnings: dubcon, crime lord!Jason Todd/ Red Hood, degradation and humiliation, toys, daddy kink, being called princess, mention of drugs (for the plot)

Scrubbing at your arms to get some kind of warmth, you huffed impatiently. The informant was late. Sure, it was understandable why the Bat would want all contact to be verbal; both of you–well, mainly you–would go down if you were caught. Everyone knew what Cobblepot was capable of. The shorter list of convictions compared to other Gotham criminals didn’t mean that he was less capable, and working for the corporate and legal end of his business meant that you were privy to the real reasons behind the sudden company reorgs.

You shivered before deciding to pace around your office. It wasn’t like the informant to be late. Were they caught? Were you busted? Maybe you should just go home. You spent too many hours working overtime anyway.

The goosebumps weren’t going away. The office A/C that you cherished in the sticky and humid summers of Jersey was now a frigid hell. You weren’t sure of who was punishing you–the Batman or the Penguin.

With the creak of your door, you snapped, “About fuckin’–”

The last word fell into the nylon carpet as you stared into the glowing eyes of the Red Hood. The door slammed shut, and he left it unlocked. It didn’t matter. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get past him anyway. Instead, you froze in front of your desk.

“Yeah, let’s talk about getting fucked.” The robotic drawl of your full name in perfect pronunciation made you grimace as he stepped towards you. Any thoughts of him walking into the wrong office and getting the wrong person were gone. “That was pretty ballsy of you to drop my name in your conversations with the Bat.”

You couldn’t even deny his accusation. You thought you were being clever, that maybe you could do some of that double-crossing shit that the vigilantes and villains played so easily. It seemed easy because you were an amateur; maybe you were fucking up this entire time. All you remembered were the extra zeros in your bank account as you played Batman and your boss.

“Mr. Cobblepot has an image to maintain,” you told the informant–Spanky? Or was it Matches? Either way the name was ridiculous–“so he wouldn’t intentionally let this new drug hit his clubs.”

The latest street drug in Gotham had a similar chemical compound to drugs like buprenorphine and chlordiazepoxide. They eased the symptoms of withdrawal, making a more tolerable and safer transition into sobriety.

“So you’re saying that sobering up his clients isn’t in his best interest?” His mustache twitched, and you wondered if it was glued on or real.

“Exactly. His regular clients would seek out other dealers to get the high they’re used to. They don’t go to the Iceberg Lounge for the atmosphere. They go because it’s one of the safer options to get snowed. Who knows what sort of diabolical shit is mixed into the Black Mask’s supply?”

His mustache wiggled as he hummed. “Well, if it isn’t the Penguin, who else would put this on the streets?”

The informant paid close attention to your words as you paused to give him a new lead.

“Well, if you're looking for the name of a cartel or gang, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I don’t know much about its manufacturing or distribution. I work in communications, so…”

Crossing your arms, you blew some air as you tried to think of a name to distract the Bat and keep your wallet fat. “The only crime lord that would benefit from this is the Red Hood, don’t you think?”

Ever since he first showed up on the scene, he’d been adamant about cleaning up the underbelly of Gotham. His strict rules against selling to kids made the areas he controlled safer. Commissioning this drug and letting it hit the Gotham market was a way to help addiction-addled neighborhoods rebuild.

His expression was unreadable behind his dark glasses. The only way you knew that he was satisfied with your answer was when you heard your bank app ding with the agreement that you’d meet again in two weeks.

At the time, you thought that mentioning the Red Hood was ingenious. Compared to other criminals, the Red Hood seemed to be less vicious towards women. Since his rise to power, there hadn’t been any reports or news about him or his henchmen attacking them. If the informant wanted you to name drop someone, you were going to choose someone who would maybe spare your life. Yet seeing him up close gave you some doubt.

You swallowed your nervousness as you edged to the desk. Your hands blindly reached for something that could do some damage, but alas, your laptop was packed away and your pens were in their drawer.

“Look,” he sighed, “if you’re gonna play dirty, you gotta make sure your opponent can’t find dirt on you.” It was a roundabout way of calling you a dumbass.

You half turned to watch him circle round your desk, kneeling to dial in the combo to your locked drawer. Stupidly, you got closer when you heard the click that told you he opened it successfully. Using your birthday backwards as the combo was enough to deter nosy co-workers but clearly wasn’t not secure enough to deter a crime lord with a vendetta. If you made it out alive, you promised yourself that you’d change all of your passwords to something with stronger security–you’d even make sure that you didn’t repeat them on several accounts.

“Jesus,” the Red Hood laughed through his modulator, “you got the rechargeable one too? I’m not sure if Cobblefield ain’t paying you shit, batteries are expensive, you’re environmentally-conscious,, or it’s some combination of the above.”

The sight of a cross-armed Red Hood with your rabbit vibe in his hands was something you’d never imagine in your wildest dreams.

“Your little toy isn’t the only thing I found out about you.”

Oh god, what else did he find? Your face felt hot from embarrassment.

“Did you know that the sites you go on and the things you search can still be tracked by an establishment’s WiFi network log?”

He was grinning beneath the mask, you just knew it. Bastard.

“Yeah, even if you use your phone on private browsing… Crazy, right?”

All you could muster was a choked ‘yeah’ as you tried to recall everything you looked up in the past week. It was highly likely that the Red Hood looked back at least a month. Now what did you search for that wasn’t related to work?

You didn’t have to recall. He listed it out for you in a painfully slow and enunciated manner.

“Red Hood shirtless, Red Hood legs spread, Red Hood dick size, mask or helmet kink, intro to BDSM, what is a service top… And this was just within the past two weeks, goddamn.” He shook his head in judgment. “Should I continue?”

Fuck.

You couldn’t show fear to these types of people, you learned early on in your career. That’s what they got off on.

“What’s wrong with a woman having a healthy sexual appetite?” You asked defensively. “You some kind of prude or what?” That seemed to get a genuine laugh out of him.

“See, here’s the thing,” he told you, helping himself to your luxury office chair, leaning back as his boots settled on the desk. “Everyone thinks that I’m a bad guy, that I just blindly use violence to punish even badder guys. ‘There aren’t any brains under that hood! He’s just some beefy bastard with a fat cock! An idiot! A dunce!’” If he was speaking in some high-pitched mocking tone, his modulator didn’t catch it. It stayed in that robotic monotone.

Jason paused for a second to see if you’d agree, forgetting that a normal reaction was to be scared shitless and mute. When you didn’t make an indication of anything, those combat boots of his hit the carpet with a thud, chair screeching and lurching forward to see your face. Your toy laid forgotten on the desk.

Audibly you swallowed as you looked at him–well, not really him but the mask that he wore, the bright white of his eyes a stark contrast to the cherry red of his helmet. It was the mystery of what he looked like beneath it that drove your imagination wild. What color were his eyes? His hair? How full were his lips? Did he have scars?

As if knowing that you wanted a better angle, he tilted your chin to comply with your unspoken wish. It wasn’t as if it changed anything; you still knew nothing of his looks, but the cool leather of his glove made you more aware of how starved you were of any kind of touch. That healthy sexual appetite you claimed to have suddenly turned into hunger pangs.

“There was a lot of thought put into this plan, sweetheart,” the Red Hood chided.

His glove left your face to press on some hidden panel close to his jaw. There was a soft click that loosened his helmet.

Then you heard him–somewhat muffled and low and incredibly human.

“See, I’m giving you a pretty sick deal. You get to live out one of your fantasies in exchange for recanting your statement to the Bat. Even if I have nothing to hide, I hate whenever the old man comes sniffing around. Don’t worry. I’ll even promise my protection too in the event of retaliation–from him or Cobblepot. Do we have a deal or not?”

Your voice came out breathier than you realized. “And if I say no?”

He made a show of taking off his helmet, and to your surprise, a red domino mask covered his eyes. Tousling his dark curls, he pursed those perfect lips, “Well, shit. When I was searching through those logs, I figured that you’d be so horny for me that refusing wouldn’t even cross your mind.”

It was starting to make sense why Cobblepot was always irritated after dealing with the Red Hood. You laughed. “Look Hood, the quips were cute at first, but they’re getting old fast. You’re so full of yourself. Now tell me what happens if I refuse.”

“One, if you say yes, you could be full of me too.” You imagined that if he took the domino off that he’d punctuate that sentence with a wink. “And two…”

You could hear the smile in his voice along with something devious. When did he get so close? He was slotted between your legs as you sat on the edge of your desk. The cool feel of his gloves pulled your arms back and held your wrists there, leaving you captive to whatever he had to say.

“You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

“Oh yeah?” you breathed out. Fine, you’d admit it. That was fucking hot. “Then show me.”

“Show you what?”

His thigh nudged your center, pushing your dress skirt up with the motion.

“What you do to bad girls,” you said through gritted teeth. His hold on your wrists kept your upper body in place.

“Say it for me first.”

But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t use your leg to drag him closer. You hooked one leg behind him. Now you could feel his length against you though he wouldn’t budge otherwise.

“Please.”

Nothing.

“Daddy, please.”

“You can be obedient when you want to be, huh? Fuckin’ brat.” Jason found amusement in your frustration. “Sorry, but those aren’t the right words. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, we have a fuckin’ deal.”

Finally that thick thigh was back to putting sweet pressure on your clit, the Red Hood’s slight movements providing teasing friction that kept you slick.

“Atta girl, princess. ‘Fraid I gotta shut you up for a few though. I know your performance reviews say that you’re well-spoken, but they made no mention of you being so damn chatty.”

Before you could talk about the irony of his comment, Jason let your wrists go and stepped back, using his free hands to unzip his pants and pull out his cock and balls. Your mouth hung open at the sight.

Giving it a stroke upwards, his balls followed the movement. Jason smeared his precum over the shaft, giving it a nice shine before ordering you to lay flat on your desk with your head hanging from the edge. His sack looked heavy and full.

“So this is what you meant–”

“Less talking, more sucking,” he grunted, taking the opportunity to shove the tip into your mouth.

The girth was unexpected as your jaw stretched to accommodate his size. You gave it a suck before relaxing your throat to take more of him. Jason eased into you slowly, watching as you swallowed as many inches as you could before pulling out and smearing his spit-laden cock across your mouth. You jerked him while gently sucking on his nuts, thinking about the reward you’d get if you could edge him long enough. The thought of him filling you up with a big, hot load made your center ache.

So focused on your thoughts, you hardly noticed that Jason replaced himself with your toy, watching as your drool frothed and dribbled down your chin while you gagged.

“Be patient with me, princess,” he murmured as he leaned across your body, vibe in hand, to push your panties aside, cock pressing against your cheek. You tried to move your head to take his length but the Red Hood’s weight made it difficult to do so.

Jason wasted no time shoving the entirety of the toy inside you, making you gasp. If you wanted him as desperately as he thought, then he had to prep you well so you could take him.

“Patience,” he lightly scolded you. “Damn, if I knew you were this needy for Daddy’s cock, I would have come earlier so the fun could last longer.” He placed himself back in your throat.

Slow deep breaths through your nose, you reminded yourself. It was difficult though when he was facefucking you in sync with your toy. There was little room for your moans and sighs to escape.

He most definitely understood your muffled ‘FUCK’ when he turned on the toy though, both shaft and rabbit ears vibrating. Your knuckles were white from desperately clutching at whatever you could; you needed something to keep you grounded from the assault on your clit, toy shaped perfectly to hit your G-spot.

The vibe kept making you moan, making your throat squeeze in ways that would make Jason cum early. “That’s it for now,” he said to deaf ears, pulling out to focus on playing with your pussy. He repositioned himself so one hand controlled the toy and the other held you down.

“Is this all you got?” You taunted, sweat catching the neon lights from the window. Your hair was disheveled and stuck to your forehead. Your legs quivered. You looked pathetic.

The Red Hood laughed, and you weren’t sure of what you wanted more of–that mocking robotic modulator or the rich tones of his real voice.

“The way your lips are wrapped around that toy tells me that’s more than enough. If you want this,” his cock was still perfectly hard and this angle highlighted the thick veins that lined his shaft, “then we need to take our time. Luckily for you, I have the patience of a saint.”

“Well, I don’t. Sit down, so I can fuck you.”

He was used to more demure requests to ride him, so your brazen words lit something inside Jason. Fuck it, he thought. He was still annoyed at you mentioning his name to Bruce. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he watched you struggle to take him.

The toy came out with a yank, your pussy aching. The emptiness was only temporary though. There was something more filling, waiting for it.

Seeing that slight look of surprise on his mouth was worth it as you pushed him onto the chair, spitting on his cock before straddling him. Your panties were lost in some dark corner along with your bra. Your disheveled office wear struggled to maintain your modesty with loose buttons and crumpled fabric.

“Mmfph–fuck!”

Your nails dug into the Red Hood’s shoulders as you tried to find your pace. You had about halfway more to go.

“Told ya,” he said smugly, reaching beneath your dress to squeeze your ass. He buried his face in your tits, sucking on whatever flesh he could. You gasped when he finally reached your nipple, his tender suction making you shiver.

“Big motherfucker,” you grumbled, bouncing up and down on what you could with his help.

“Damn, you feel good,” Jason sighed.

Lately he’d been so focused on the complicated aspects of his line of work; it seemed like he could never just chill and do something for himself. Isn’t that what all the experts say? That self-care was important?

So when one of his informants told him that Bruce and his band of bat brats were poking around his turf, Jason’s first thought was to dispose of whoever Bruce paid off. When the informant said that the rat was the Iceberg Lounge’s hot publicist, he considered his first reaction too harsh, that perhaps it’d be best if he investigated this personally. Oh, he was so fucking glad that he did.

With each bounce, he pushed you lower on his length, and he’d go by half-inches if it meant reaching heaven. Fucking you with the toy first was a brilliant idea. Even though you didn’t say it, he knew you came. That’s why you were struggling on his cock. That cute little cunt of yours was still spasming from your first orgasm. How could anyone be so tight and wet, he thought, and for him.

He sat back and watched as you kept riding him with frustration. Your sweet pussy nectar was pooling at the base, and the lewd sounds it made was music to his ears. But the sound of his balls slapping your cheeks would be even nicer.

“Good effort, princess, but you’re starting to look pathetic and needy and desperate. What?” He laughed, swiping his thumb along your pout. “It’s cute. Daddy’ll take care of you.”

He hoisted you off him with ease, giving you another reason to make your pussy throb. A part of you wanted to ask him to fuck you while standing or maybe against the wall. No! A small rational voice told you. Let’s see what he does first.

Laying you on the ground, he pushed your legs back with your ankles on his shoulders, exposing your cunt to cool air. It was slick and puffy from all the work you put in. Taking two fingers, Jason spread your lips so he could tease your clit. Each little movement made you twitch.

Perfect, he thought. He knew how to get you where he wanted. The feeling of his thick, heavy tip rubbing your most sensitive spot made your toes curl as you huffed and moaned at his touch. Your hips pressed up in a weak attempt to slip it in. Your heels were nearly dangling off your feet from the movement.

“Since you want this cock so badly, I’ll give it to you, princess, but we’re doing it my way.”

Eagerly, you nodded. Your way, his way. It didn’t matter as long as he was in you.

Yet quickly you found out that you shouldn’t have agreed so readily. He moved impossibly slow.

“It’s a shame,” he tried to make small talk, one gloved hand carefully keeping the distance between you and his cock while the other balanced his weight above you, “that you chose to work for Cobblepot. How bout you work for me instead? Name your salary–I’ll double it. As a bonus, we can even fuck whenever you want.”

“You act as if I need your cock.”

Ignoring your tone, Jason stated the obvious. You did. Your body practically melted in the carpet when he went completely in.

“Look how full you are. You think you can go back to your toys or another man’s cock after this? I ruined you, princess.” Instead of sounding remorseful, he was proud. “I bet in the days after, you’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout how empty you feel without me.”

You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of being right–his cock felt so good once you got through that first bit of discomfort–but there was no point in being stubborn. The Red Hood didn’t intend on having you hear him out. He was going to show you.

He fucked you as roughly as you imagined, using long strokes that left both of you breathless. There was something erotic about the sudden silence. There was only heavy breathing and moans, slick sounds and pounding.

And when you came, it was like the lights cut out, eyes squeezed shut for total darkness. The only electricity existed in his touch, sparking waves of pleasure throughout your body.

–

Uncertain if you actually dozed off or not, you woke up to a familiar mechanic hum. He had his helmet back on, his clothes back to their baseline level of grunge. Perhaps it was because of the intimacy you shared, but the Red Hood seemed far less threatening now compared to the start of the night.

“Don’t forget about the deal we made,” he told you, standing near your feet.

Like him, going back to how you normally were was easy now that lust no longer clouded your actions.

“And what if I don’t?” you asked, standing slowly from sore muscles. “Like you said earlier, I am a bad girl.”

“I’ve already planned for that.”

You tried to fix your dress to the best of your abilities. It was no use though. It was a poor victim of your decisions.

“Well, if that’s the case, expect another visit.”

You stalled, letting the fabric fall as you tried to decipher his meaning behind the modulator. Was that a threat or a promise?

“And next time, I’m coming during office hours.”

You let the warm sensation of his cum sliding down your thighs decide for you.

Return to

Curated Masterlists

Jason Todd’s Masterlist

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #rest writes

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changbinsboobs · 6 months ago

Note

pls do chan tea session how he views his teammates? thanks very much!

Omg y'all THIS has been the reading we've all been waiting for😭🙌🏻🙌🏻😂 i swear i couldn't stop gasping and tacking a moment after each card to gather myself cuz WTF IS ALL THIS😂😳🫣 yk i did a tea/vent reading with changbin a few weeks ago and i thought its gonna be a banger but we couldn't get one "bad word" out of his mouth - he wasn't serving AT ALL😤 and i got a bit discouraged to continue the series but im so happy i did and did it with CHAN cuz my guys's spilling so much😂 tbh idk what i think of it all and if i agree, in fact i was quite shocked at a few cuz i really did bot expect such answers and i pulled several cards as confirmation and it all pointed painfully obvious to what the first card was already showing. So im just gonna start and ya'll are gonna see foe yourselfs😂

Oh also my tea series was initially not really meant to be focused on the group but more in general but at least with the last reading with changbin i found it difficult to take such a vast field of topics and distill it so if you have suggestions on what else they could have things to vent about or tea to spill send ask. Please be specific tho about something specific that interests you / preferably with a specific member:) ok moving on

Ok not really i forgot to mention that i asked about his opinion on the members WITHOUT FILTER and leaning more on the tea side. So, very important - this is not Chan's absolute opinion on the members, but a small, "scandalous" fraction if the opinion he has build on them over the years. It doesn't mean that this is all he thinks of them - remember humans are complex beings and can have conflicting thoughts and feelings:)

Tea Series: Chan's opinion on the members

Lee Know

I was SHOCKED but he kinda thinks of him as a bit of a dumbo. Not in the sense that he really is stupid but to Chan it looks like he's just a bit out of it and there's a vibe of a whole geoup laughing about a joke that lee know doesn't get, and not necessarily cuz he's stupid, its just he doesn't care to get it😂😭 this baffles him and im actually seeing a similar energy with him regarding lee know as i did with changbin in the previous reading where Chan just feels a bit weirded out by lee know at times and just sometimes gets annoyed cuz he just doesn't understand him. Yk how people are disgusted/scared by spider no reason? This is something similar, it just icks him how he cant understand lee know. He accepts it tho, more than changbin for sure. And im feeling that its actually even charming to him sometimes. Im hearing "a genius dumbo". So yeah, they're very different apparently, and to chan lee know just seems way waaayyy out of the circle, way above it all, way to out of it and he doesn't even want to get in and that BAFFLES him so much!

Changbin

This one's not hot at all, im seeing this pile along with felix's being the most melow ones. So I see that chan really sees changbin as his equal, possibly the only guy in the group he sees as one. Not in the way that others are below him but rather he's to the same level of matureness, toughness, headspace etc according to him (not that i agree😂). He views him as a bro and really enjoys spending time with him and "talking like men" or whatever its called😂 im actually seeing them going out for drinks or having late night talks with some strong alcohol (although im not really seeing chan drinking very hard i think the alcohol's more for changbin to loosen his tongue and for both of them to feel like adult men😂🙌🏻) Also another thing thats coming up which made me laugh is that chan thinks changbins bad at love and always has bad luck in it (and is kinda a simp) and he(cb) should learn a thing or two from him(chan). This gives me such huge sleepover vibes i live it so much - all of chans readings have that feeling to it and im always giggling when reading his energy😂💗 So yeah im also seeing them having lots of chats about women too🌝 and...sex👀👀👀 but for that i think it needs to be a bit deeper in the night and the bottle should be close to empty for that conversation to open. But it does, pretty often (not often like every other day but often only within their "meetings" so if they have a hangout every other months, and have had 6 this year, in 4 out of 6 this conversation happens - thats what i mean by often).

Hyunjin

Fo hyunjin he thinks he's very impulsive and very pushy but on the inside(?). He also thinks he's very appreciation hungry and attention greedy. Not attention whore-y tho (contrary to han), but rather ifjgkkf like someone who lives for the applause. Someone who's a performer. Not only on stage but also in private. I think he thinks that hyunjin's actually a bit insecure (not the kind of looks-insecurity, but the primal one like having security in your own being and the person who you are, having trust that you got ur own back) and that he's compensating that insecurity with others validation and admiration. And if he doesn't get that or feels like he doesn't he gets spiky/prickly. And thats where his impulsivity comes up and where this pushy energy happens. He may behave normal on the outside but on the inside he's going crazy and thinking of all the ways he can fix that and if you spend time with him long enough you begin to see that eagerness and spikiness - according to chan.

Han

According to chan he's pretty isolated and a tad bit odd. Probably thats why he gets along with lee know the best. He's also a bit infantile in chans eyes, like an annoying 12 year old fortnite little cousing that spits when he speaks and knows now personal space. Not saying hans like that - just creating a vibe to describe how he feels to chan sometimes😂 idk if nuisance is the right word but im getting the feeling that when 3racha's doing their thing, hans kind of the odd one out and he can see that han wants to belong and tries to but chan feels like he's that little cousin that wants to hang out with the cool old bros and, yeah sometimes feels liek a bit of a nuisance i would say. Cuz chan does include him, when he maybe would not. I could see that being a theme during their time in the 4/4 dorms. And here's the part i mentioned above - i think chan might view han sometimes like an attention-wh*re, making a clown of himself, and embarrassing himself quite offten to appeal to them or maybe others he fancies and wants to impress. Another thing is, that as i said he might be a bit odd and at times overexcert his boundaries? Or have weird boundaries? Like he hates when people touch his blanket or he only has to wear orange socks and if someone put the laundry and forgot one of his sock and now only one's clean he gets really pissed over nothing - stuff of that sort.

Felix

I would say thats the only pile where he had nothing "bad" to say about him and i pulled 4 cards for him cuz there had to be something - but there wasn't so i guess chan really really likes Felix and holds him in very high regards☺️ he thinks that he is muchs tronger than he looks and can defend himself and his loved ones very well. In fact i believe when chan saw this side of him he was really shocked because felix seems really sweet but when it comes to protecting what he loves he gets very fierce and that was very shocking to witness. Theres just admiration, admiration and more admiration in this reading he thinks felix has that royalty vibe to himself and really just has it all. Im getting a slight whiff of jealousy, but a friendly type of jealousy. Like he just thinks he's so amazing and sometime she wishes he were like that. He wishes he were as cool as him, as lighthearted as him, as bright and positive as him, he were as liked by him and i also feel like chan feels that stuff may often be just very effortless for felix and even if he's bad at something its still with grace. Theres this aura to felix that he can never do anything wrong and he just sometimes feels that felix has it too easy and must be really lucky or like gods favourite and thinks he must have really good karma for that.

Seungmin

He thinks seungmins too sharp and that his words hurt. Im also seeing lots of bickering...no actually fights. So either chan often gets the urge to just throw it all and start a fight with him or drop the manners and just tell him off - or they actually do that often. I do get the feeling that this is exaggerated in his head and that maybe to seungmin their fights aren't nearly as bad but once again i feel like chan might be holding back a lot and seungmin might'be much sharper and meaner for others than he thinks he is.

I.N

Finally the last one😮‍💨 he thinks he's a mamas boy and sees him still as a kid. That one's pretty obvious but to be honest i expected something else cuz im getting a much maturer energy from him, the other guys have said that too but still, here im getting that he's just a kid and doesnt know "of the real world", relies too much on mom and dad etc. Tbh i don't think thats the case😂 but rather that chans having a bit of a parent syndrom where he actaully feels like i.ns big bro or some sort of a parent figure or whatever and he literary watched him grow from a child to a man so i think that image of him from a few years back has stayed with chan and maybe its difficult for him to let go of that impression if i.n being still just a little kid being full of wonder, innocent and still dependant.

#skz #stray kids #tarot reading #kpop #bang chan #lee know #seo changbin #hyunjin #lee felix #han jisung #seungmin #i.n #kpop tarot #skz tarot

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