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spacedace · 9 months ago

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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

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zepskies · 5 months ago

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Lost on You - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Welcome to Part 1! You guys have really warmed by heart with all the anticipation for this series, so thank you so much. I think it's going to be a fun ride. 😉

Song Inspo: “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John. And check out the full “Lost on You Playlist” here. There’s going to be lots of ‘80s music in this series!

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: SB being an entitled asshole (strap in for a lot of that), misogyny, bullying, and a “meet cute” of sorts…

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Siren Song

April 3, 1983

“Why the fuck wasn’t I consulted about this?” Soldier Boy groused.

Arthur Cohen, otherwise known as “The Legend,” released a heavy puff of his cigar within the relative privacy of his office. Vought afforded him a great deal of luxuries, at the cost of days like this.

So, he’d offered the supe one of his most coveted Cubans to pacify him. Because true to form, he was edging closer to a temper tantrum by the minute.

“This decision came from on high, my friend,” Arthur said, with a smile that hid his inner anxiousness. He tapped some ash off his cigar with a finger adorned by a gaudy gold ring. “Stan Edgar, Stillwell, even the entire board of directors signed off on this one.”

“I don’t give a fuck who bought into this PR bullshit,” Soldier Boy postured, crossing his arms across his dark green supe suit as he leaned into the plush seat adjacent to Arthur’s desk. He raised a solid boot on the edge of the newly polished mahogany, and then another, crossing them at the ankles. His cigar was balanced between his teeth in the corner of his mouth.

“The last thing we need,” he said, pausing to inhale. Then he took the cigar from his lips to blow out smoke in hot annoyance. “Is another broad on the team.”

Arthur inclined his head. “I understand your concerns.”

“Do you?” Soldier Boy snorted. “Countess is bitch enough to deal with, believe you me.”

Arthur sympathized. He knew Crimson Countess’s attitude well, but he supposed Soldier Boy had license to say so more than anyone else, considering she was his girlfriend.

“Look, I could give you the numbers: expected profit margins, demographics, etcetera, but you don’t get paid to hear that from me,” Arthur said, with a magnanimous hand gesture and a fair bit of old Jewish charm. “I’m askin’ you to trust me. This girl’s good, okay? Not just a wig and a pair a’ tits. Nah, she’s got talent. Got a set of pipes on her too, my God.”

Soldier Boy gave him a sly look.

“Not like that,” Arthur said. He shook his head in amusement, but not with the face of a man who hadn’t already thought about the girl’s pretty mouth. He stroked his chin.

“She’s…interesting. Well, you’ll see. If she brings up the ratings the way we hope, we’ll be able to relocate Swatto. Hopefully to Siberia. He’s a fucking PR nightmare waiting to happen.”

“All right, the guy’s a moron, but he’s fucking hilarious,” Soldier Boy said, smirking. “Like one of the three Stooges.”

Yeah. Arthur wondered if that homeless man Swatto almost split open in Central Park after a sneeze thought he was funny.

“And her powers. Really?” Soldier Boy went on. His brows drew together then, as he frowned. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.

But he could see that Soldier Boy wasn’t convinced. The supe rolled his eyes and released another puff.

“Anyway. I’m fucking bored. What’s the next project?” he said. Arthur took an unfiltered breath and peeked at the files strewn across his desk.

“Well, Red Thunder is coming out this fall. We’re pretty sure it’s gonna be the blockbuster of the year,” he replied. “After that, we’ll see about writing a sequel.”

If it makes back the millions we spent in production going over budget, thanks to this asshole’s weekly benders, he mentally added.

“I don’t care about a bullshit sequel,” Soldier Boy said dismissively. “I want to do something new.”

“Something new,” Arthur intoned.

The supe raised a brow. Again, the cigar was balanced between his teeth.

“Yeah.”

He really must be bored, Arthur thought, if he actually wants to work.

“All right, let me brainstorm on that for ya,” Arthur said. “Matter of fact, tell you what. Give me ‘til the end of the week. In the meantime, we’ve got the security team monitoring the police scanner for potential saves.”

The supe didn’t look impressed. His brows furrowed, as if he was irritated that he didn’t get an immediate answer, but his slight nod signaled his agreement before he finally got up from his chair. His boots dragged off Arthur’s desk, knocking over a framed picture of his kids with it, and thudded heavily on the ground. He left the office thereafter.

Arthur heaved a breath of exasperation. He didn’t get paid enough for this shit.

Fucking supes.

But he didn’t dare utter that thought out loud.

It was days before Ben finally crossed paths with the new girl. Not that he’d been giving the idea much thought.

After that day in Arthur’s office, Ben became engrossed in his own devices—namely one of the assistants, Joanna, his stylist, Angela, and Rachel, his maid, after Donna blew him off for dinner for the third night in a row. This time for some tree-hugging conservationist gala of some kind.

Frigid bitch, he thought, shaking his head.

On his way to the gym, he passed the T&T Twins gossiping. Just the sight of them irritated him. Tommy was a kiss-ass, and Tessa shared a brain cell with her brother, so she wasn’t saying much for her gender either.

“Would you pick your tongue off the floor already! You’re so disgusting,” Tessa said, shoving her brother.

“What? She’s fucking hot,” Tommy snapped in defense. When they finally saw Ben coming, Tessa piped down with her attempt at a “demure” greeting.

Tommy came in hot with a too bright voice and a, “Hey, boss!”

Ben gave them a stoic nod, fully intending to blow past them.

“Have you met the new girl yet?” Tommy asked, with an unmistakable pop of his brows and indecent smile.

Ben nearly rolled his eyes. “No.”

And don’t fucking care, his tone conveyed. He continued on his way to the gym. Behind him, the twins gave each other a look, and a shrug.

When he got to the gym, Journey was playing overhead. Ben frowned as he saw Black Noir working out by himself. The young man wasn’t wearing his suit. Instead, he was bare-chested and running on a treadmill with a nearly 90-degree incline, sweat glistening on his skin.

Fucking show off, Ben thought.

Then there was Gunpowder, his young sidekick, practicing his archery. Ben went to him and slapped a hand on his back in greeting, none too gently. The teen stumbled, his arrow landing into the wall instead of the target.

“Spot me at the bench, ey kid,” said Ben. “And grab me a towel while you’re at it.”

“Uh, sure,” Gunpowder replied, ducking his head as he went. Ben got settled at his usual bench press machine, sliding his back down the thin leather cushion. He waited for the kid to add on his fifty-pound weights on either side, until it reached two hundred pounds. That was just the warm-up.

“You met the new girl yet?” Ben asked, after he began lifting his first rep. Gunpowder stood behind his head.

“No, sir,” he said. “Haven’t seen her yet.”

“I haven’t either,” said Noir. He’d come over on his way to the showers, regaining his breath all the while. Ben gave him a sharp side-eye.

“Did I fucking ask you?” he said.

Noir paused. He hid his frown behind a stoic front, since he didn’t have his mask to do it for him. He toweled off his face and chest as he left the gym.

Ben shook his head, but he never broke stride on the bench press.

You seemed to be mysterious.

Barely anyone had seen you, and you hadn’t gone out of your way to ingratiate yourself with every member of the team, like Ben would’ve expected. Donna had set him in her sights on her very first day.

With fake demure in her hazel eyes, a flick of her long red hair over her shoulder, and a sultry smile, she’d let him take her hand and bring it up to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss.

That same night, she’d accepted his invitation up to his suite and let him do some very ungentlemanly things. Ben smirked at the memory as he made his way down Vought Tower’s infinite hallways. She sure knew her way around some kinky shit.

And she still did, the little minx. She’d just been putting the freeze on his balls lately, for whatever her reasons were this time. He didn’t pretend to care or keep track at this point.

If people only knew what a royal pain Crimson Countess was.

Ben was only taken out of his thoughts when he heard someone singing in the breakroom, gently, but beautifully. He couldn’t make out the words though. He stopped and leaned inside the doorway, just to see who it was. It was early enough in the morning that he was surprised anyone but him was awake.

You were standing there at the counter, making some coffee from the percolator. Soft and dulcet notes fell from your lips in some kind of lullaby. Quirking a brow, the oddness of it managed to draw Ben’s steps into the kitchen. You were wearing a leather supe suit that molded to your every curve, not unlike Donna’s, except yours was black with violet trim lines.

You eventually noticed him with a smile.

“Good morning, sir.”

Ben gave you a charming grin, blatantly eying you from breast to toe before he noted that the coffee had finished percolating.

"Hey there, sweetheart,” he said. “Pour me a cup, would ya?"

You did so, and he admired the graceful movements of your hands, and the sweet sound of your voice as you continue to hum to yourself.

"You're a little crooner, aren't you?" he asked, taking the plain white coffee mug from you.

When your hand brushed his, he felt it.

Your power.

It threatened to overtake him, drawing you into him like the crash and current of a tidal wave, where he couldn’t help but be pulled undertow. There in that darkness, he craved your warmth as well as your body. The thought, the need gripped him at his core…

He wanted you to devour him, body and soul.

And he finally registered that your eyes were glowing violet, along with your knowing smile.

Then you blinked. The violet haze was gone, along with your hold on his mind.

You went back to sipping your coffee as if nothing had just happened. Ben faltered, mentally and physically as he was forced to grip the counter. He even had to catch his breath as his mind reeled from the loss of connection.

He covered his unbalance with a steely, angry frown. What the fuck just fucking happened?

He looked at you harder than before, drawing himself to his full height and towering over you. Still, you didn’t seem all that intimidated.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled.

Your knowing, easy smile remained.

“Nothing,” you replied. “Just a little smoke.”

Ben’s eyes widened.

“Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

How the hell had you heard about that?

He quirked a brow, but you just sipped your coffee with a gentle slurp. Your gaze moved away from him as you went to the fridge to take out a carton of eggs.

“Want some breakfast? I’m thinking of making some eggs, sunny side up,” you said.

Ben’s hand clenched at his side, but then, he forced himself to relax. Or at least, to look relaxed. You had some fucking audacity to try toying with him…but he had to admit, you were something new.

Interesting.

“What’s your name?” he asked, in a tone that demanded.

“Sirena,” you answered. Your superhero name, which he’d already known when Stan Edgar told him about you a week ago.

Ben’s frown deepened, but he reminded himself to retain some charm. He took your chin between his fingers. His grip was light, but his green eyes were intense, and focused on you.

“No. Your real name, sweetheart,” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

You blinked, but you obliged him with your name, and a smile that edged at flirtation.

“What’s yours?” you returned.

He had to smirk. He knew you knew full well who he was.

“Call me Ben,” he said.

Three Days Ago…

You tried not to be completely overwhelmed by the sight of this huge tower as you pulled your suitcase behind you. Vought-American was an institution of superhero production, and Payback was the face of it all. The absolute pinnacle.

I still can’t believe they chose me, you thought, but you tried not to let that show. You needed to make it seem like you knew what you were doing. You belonged here, and you were seizing this chance.

Madelyn Stillwell, the head of Superhero Public Relations, personally greeted you at the gate and showed you up to your room. However, you’d barely gotten a chance to step inside and look around before her pager went off. She wore a certain smile when she saw the number on the screen. She tossed a strand of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and glanced up at you.

“Sorry, sweetie. I have an appointment to get to, but the directory is there on your desk if you need anything. Feel free to get comfortable,” she said, gesturing at you with her pager in hand. “I’ll be back in an hour or so to give you a tour of the building.”

“Okay, thank you so—”

The door closed behind her before you could even finish your sentence. That deflated you a little, but you tried not to let that small exchange bring you down. Your apartment was huge. Or at least, it was much bigger than the shoebox you left in the Village, let alone the Brooklyn brownstone you grew up in, sharing with two other families on each floor.

You hefted your suitcase onto the bed and began to unpack your clothes, makeup, and toiletries.

You also took out the only framed picture you had—one that housed your parents and your older brother Chris. You were both grown already, but in this picture, you were barely twelve years old. That little girl didn’t know that her entire world was about to change, when her powers manifested for the first time.

That thought did succeed in dimming your mood for a moment, but you sighed and set the frame down on your new dresser. You’d have to remember to call Chris. His son was turning four years old in a few weeks.

Though your attention shifted to a black shape in the corner of your eye. It was a garment bag hanging on the closet door. You went over and unzipped it, revealing your new super suit. It was all black leather and violet accent lines down the sides, along the collar, and down between the breasts in a V-shape. It was strategic to accentuate curves and bust.

You whistled lowly. It was beautiful, but Jesus did it look tight.

“Wow,” you remarked, trying out the zipper up and down. “They really like their leather, huh?”

Still, you itched to try it on. After a few minutes of struggling and wiggling, you managed to get into the suit. They’d taken exact measurements, so it did look good. You felt like a new person…a superhero.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. But then, you forced the smile off your face and shook your head, schooling your expression into something less doe-eyed and pathetic. More in control.

There you are, Sirena, you thought. You had long ago trained yourself with that enigmatic look. You knew how it felt on your face. The easiest way for you to get what you wanted in this world, the way you’d gotten this far, was with this exact face.

Only show them what you want them to see.

Almost two hours later, you’d finished unpacking your belongings and explored every corner of your new beautiful apartment, but still, Miss Stillwell wasn’t back yet.

You checked your watch and hummed to yourself. Your curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to leave your apartment and explore the tower by yourself. You took off the suit as well, so you could make your way around more anonymously. You were sure no one really knew who you were yet.

Your theory was proven true when you walked through the halls, passing Vought employees without even a blink in your direction. That was okay though. Soon enough, all these people would know your face, as well as your name.

You reached one of the top floors, where you thought you remembered The Legend’s office was supposed to be (according to the directory). Maybe you could meet him and get a jump start on your schedule.

You stopped short, however, when an office door slid open. Out came a slightly disheveled Miss Stillwell. Her blouse was hastily tucked into her gray pencil skirt, and strands of her blonde hair were a bit frizzy as they brushed her shoulders, as if she’d combed them down with her fingers. You plastered yourself to a wall around the corner, only peeking around after she passed by.

Your brows popped up incredulously when you read the name plate beside the door she just came out of.

Stan Edgar…holy shit. His signature was on my contract!

Along with Arthur Cohen, or The Legend, as Stillwell had told you when she welcomed you in. He was the Senior Vice President of Hero Management, so who the hell was Stan?

Well, whoever he was, he was giving it to the head of PR.

Okay then. You shook your head and continued on your way. At the end of the hall, you finally found the right office. You were about to open the door, when you heard male voices coming from inside—one older and dry, and the other deep and strong.

You reached out with your awareness and allowed your powers to engage, likely making your eyes glow with a violet hue.

Sure enough, you sensed two men in the room. And as the voices raised, you recognized one of them. It was unmistakable; you’d been taking the time to binge all of his movies for the past month, ever since you auditioned to get into Payback.

Soldier Boy.

A smile spread across your face. For a moment, you were incredibly excited…until you actually heard what he was saying.

“The last thing we need is another broad on the team.”

Your mouth fell open in shock as your brows drew together. You carefully pressed yourself to the door and kept listening.

“And her powers. Really?” he said. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.

You glared at the door furiously, as if you could burn lasers out of your eyes. You crossed your arms, but you breathed evenly as you strived to keep your emotions contained.

Control, you reminded yourself. With another deep breath, you managed to let go of your ire, but the more you listened to the conversation, the more impossible that became. You turned away from the door and made clipped strides down the hall.

You knew you had to tread carefully here. You’d heard some of the real stories about Payback, because you’d taken the time to listen. You weren’t about to enter Vought Tower without having some idea of what you were getting into, and you knew you’d have to prove yourself as the rookie on the team. You just hadn’t expected their leader to be such a chauvinistic asshole.

Though inwardly, you snorted. Well, the guy is from the ‘40s. Best generation, indeed.

You rolled your shoulders and shook it away, like water off your proverbial feathers. Your mouth set in a firm line as you held your head high.

The game begins, you thought.

For the next few days, you watched. You studied each member of your new “team” as you encountered them, and you quickly realized that this team wasn’t much of one.

They looked out for themselves, and bickered amongst themselves, in the case of the TNT Twins. Crimson Countess had given you a lovely, polite face that still somehow mocked you when she walked away, along with the bounce of her red hair.

Your powers didn’t allow you to sense or read women, but you recognized a diva when you saw one.

Clearly, she was used to being the woman on top, especially as Soldier Boy’s girlfriend. You wanted to roll your eyes at the thought. From what you’d heard (and the masculine cologne you smelled on Arthur’s assistant Joanna yesterday), Soldier Boy got around. His relationship with Countess was either very open, or it was well-crafted PR.

You had another growing, unsettling thought. The more information you gathered just by observing the team, the more you had a hard time believing that you were ever going to fit in around here.

It was only your third day in the Tower though, you reminded yourself, as you got dressed for the day in your suit. That kind of negativity wouldn’t serve you here.

So you left your apartment in search of coffee and breakfast at the breakroom and lounge area, exclusive to the team. You supposed these guys were either late sleepers, or they got their food brought to them. You were relieved to find the room empty, and you let out a deep breath.

Remember why you’re here, you thought. It’s not about you.

It had never been about you.

You rummaged through the cupboards in search of the one thing that would perk you up—good coffee. You found it near the top shelf and began to prep the coffee maker. You hummed to yourself while your hands moved on autopilot. The tune strengthened, deepening and then sweetening on higher trills.

Suddenly, your spine prickled. Your mind buzzed faintly with awareness as you sensed a presence.

It was familiar and overwhelmingly male, with heavy, confident steps coming down the hall. You tilted your head and frowned.

Soldier Boy, that asshole.

But then, your lips curved upwards. This could be fun.

When Soldier Boy walked into the breakroom, he noticed you. You pretended not to realize he was there, but you felt the heat of his gaze roaming over your body. You wanted to sigh. Predictable.

Right then, you made a quiet, firm decision. Today, this man was going to learn your name. And he wasn’t going to forget it.

You turned to him with a smile when he approached—the most pleasant one you could manage.

“Good morning, sir.”

AN: Game, set, match. 😘💚 As many of you know, this story is expanding on this Soldier Boy imagine, which I wrote almost a year ago now. In the back of my mind though, I always thought this idea could be more someday.

So please let me know what you thought of Part 1! I'm so excited for you guys to see what's coming up next...

Next Time:

“Countess, I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”

You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.

“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”

The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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dimepdf · 2 years ago

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★ 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that Miguel is the bane of your existence, the way you react during training proves otherwise.

─── ☆ notes. i need fics of miguel being an absolute dick, like a petty bitch just for the hell of it i need more attitude yk? Like if that man isn't calling me a slut it ain't canon! | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4.3k (33 min read).

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | no spoilers | smut, enemies to lovers, maybe mutual pining, fighting and violence, semi public sex, gym sex, mentions of abuse, size difference, pain kink, strength kink, degradation kink, manhandling, power play(?), begging, rough sex, cervix kissing, choking, fangs, biting, marking, cunnilingus, eye contact, hair pulling, creampie, open ended, not an taiyo fic without a few typos.

IF YOU ASKED any of the other Spider-men what they loved so much about being Spider-Man, their answers would all be the same, ranging from "the suit" to "the enhanced abilities." It was a no-brainer that being a superhero came with a few awesome perks.

Which was why your answer was just a bit confusing, "the combat." You would always smile, despite the many eyebrows raises and looks that convinced you you had to be some type of overcover masochist, especially since you would never really go into true detail about why.

Your reasoning behind putting on the mask was similar to all the others: another traumatized kid being thrown into a whole new reality that you never would have dreamed of being possible.

Sadly, you had been raised with the loss of most of your loved ones, and your family was in shambles from the abuse you would go through from them. It was the reason why it was difficult for you to grow up and make many friends, let alone navigate your abilities on your own accord, which was why it was a whole different ball game when you first joined the spider society.

When you first met Miguel O'Hara, you thought he was an overly intimidating man with an even more scary personality. Your aesthetics and morals would clash in the first few run-ins you would have with him.

In all honesty, you first thought him to be a massive dick who surprisingly needed more therapy than you did. From his bored expression to his unnerving glare, it was clear upon the first introduction that you two just would not get along.

Which was why the universe made him the only spider person willing and with enough free time to train you. It came as a surprise to you both, who are usually butting heads. Miguel was adamant about not wanting to waste his time training some little girl who didn't even know how to throw a punch.

With much shit-talking on your part and a lot of teasing claims of him being afraid that you were going to kick your ass, training had quite literally started in full swing.

It was probably a bad move on your part to push the buttons of the guy who was teaching you how to fight. Miguel was clear with his fight-style techniques. He was nimble with his limbs and swift on his feet. It was hard for anyone to get a hit on him, especially since he wasn't the type to hold back his punches.

His teaching style was the same: your sessions included throwing you around as if you were some ragdoll and picking you up as if you weighed nothing, just to slam you into the ground with full bruising force.

There would be some very rare occasions when you would manage to get the upper hand on him. Miguel was about a foot taller than you, not to mention how pathetically compressed you looked standing next to him. You learned that the only way you could manage to get the upper hand was by using your size difference to your advantage.

All the sessions you won were hosted by you managing to tangle yourself from his claws and climb his towering figure into a headlock, praying that you had enough strength in your legs to make him tap out.

"How is she not dead yet?" Miles would mutter, looking concerned, as he stood from the sidelines of the training room, watching one of your sessions, as the blonde by his side didn't even wince at the sound of Miguel untangling you from the headlock you had him in.

His arms moved faster than you could process as he managed to loosen your hold enough to slam the air from your lungs as you fell back facing against the mat so hard that even Miles was convinced he could feel the blow in the lower spine.

"I mean, at this point, I'm kind of convinced she’s turned into his personal punching bag." Miles strains to watch Miguel not even wipe a sweat as he sprung back on his feet. He stretched out his full body, towering over you, curled flat against the mat, trying to collect your breathing as well as your broken ego.

Gwen nodded in agreement. "I don't even know how someone could hit someone so...squishy? She’s just so cute." She muttered, watching with her arms crossed.

"This punching bag needs to learn that in the real world, people aren't going to go as easy on her just because she’s cute." Miguel, despite glaring at the two bystanders, leaned down and yanked you back onto your stumbling feet.

Your fingers combed through the matted curls now drenched in sweat away from your forehead, using your water break as the perfect excuse to help cover up the reaction to the sudden compliment that came from his lips and the way he had made you feel.

"And her being my personal punching bag is completely at her fault, if you want to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to take a few punches." You couldn't help but roll your eyes and wave your hand out in annoyance at another one of Miguel O’Hara’s famous lectures.

"I’m not a punching bag, did you not see the hold I had on him early?" You huffed, almost choking on your water, trying to protest. Gwen humored your claim, the blonde reaching out and rubbing your shoulder out of support as you continued with your defense. "Any tighter, and I would have easily snapped his neck."

Of course, Miguel only smirked as you continued grasping at straws at the point of trying to prove to your friends your improvement, his eyes flitting back and forth at the exchange, expressionless at the sight of you managing to still joke around as if you weren't about to pass out from fatigue at any second.

"And was that before or after the part where I kicked your ass, little girl?" He shot out, chipping away at the final lock that held back your annoyance, you hadn't even had time to process the insult before he bumped his shoulder into you on his way out of the training room.

His rude exit enticed a round of reactions from Miles and Gwen trying their awkward best to comfort the boiling pot of anger they saw written all over your face, rolling your eyes, you pushed past the two, not without grumbling a string of insults in Miguel’s name to the washrooms.

You blessed the spider lords for somehow having the ability to shower under running water, let alone the unexplainable strange amount of amenities that the spider society dimensions had.

Like a web shooter's wonderland, you quickly shed the sweating clothes you trained in and stepped foot into the cold cubicle shower booth, letting the water run for a bit until enough steam fogged clouded stepping under the stream. Even with the hot water splashing pressure against your aching muscles, no amount of water could manage to wash away the annoying feeling in your legs.

It was enough of a jab at your pride to even find Miguel attractive in the first place, and here your body was betraying you once more, begging, throbbing desperately for his every touch in its every form, and having the nerve to grow more intense during your training.

The feeling had yet to fully disappear the next day, even with your session starting off with you fueled from yesterday's comments. You tried pushing the feeling as you were just ready to have Miguel mutter another word insult with the ass kick you were ready to give him. It was the only possible explanation for why you were so jittery about getting to training on time.

"It took you long enough." Was the first thing you heard Miguel announce throughout the empty room.

He wasn’t wearing his suit—neither of you did while training—instead, he was wearing dark gray sweatpants paired with some random dark red graphic shirt that fit him a bit too snuggly to leave room for imagination around his arms.

"Almost thought you were gonna skip out."

You were aware enough to spot this quick observation of your outfit as well. Keeping it casual and opting for better mobility, you shimmied yourself into plain Nike shorts that stopped higher up than you had expected them to on your thighs with a loose tank top that peeked out the straps of your sports bra.

Nothing about your clothes screamed attention grabbing—at least that's what you thought before you caught Miguel’s red-tinted stare on the way your shorts hugged your thighs.

He glanced away, muttering something in Spanish you couldn't quite translate the moment your fingers fidgeted with the bottom hems of the shorts, tugging them slightly more down while deciding to break the tense silence that had managed to sneak up on you. "So what are we doing today?"

"Huh, I’ve been thinking." He answered, followed by the clearing of his throat, "We try something a little different." You could never get used to the roughness of his voice or the way he spoke with so much arrogance that it reminded just about everyone that he thought he was better than just about everyone.

Even now that you stepped towards the middle of the mat, standing rigidly just a few paces away from him, you could tell from that stupid, cocky expression as he stood looking down at you that there was no possible way that he would ever see you as a real threat. "I want you to try to hit me."

Your brows creased together in confusion.

"What?" was all you asked, which seemed to be the wrong question to ask as Miguel stretched out a sigh from his mouth, his hands coming close to his to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I said hit me." He speaks more slowly, making sure to mockingly over pronounce every symbol in every word as if you were a child. "Preferably soon and as hard as you can." A grimace finds itself twisting on your lips before you can even process your bubbling annoyance. Your body moved on autopilot because of your keen senses, jumping over the swing of his left leg with ease.

You couldn't say that swift grace stuck with your attempt at a counterattack. Bending your knee just enough to reach out and kick, you were only met with the bottom of your foot stomping flat against the floor mat and Miguel dodging your kick, standing just a few paces away. "Too predictable," he scolded in that annoyingly deep voice you hated oh so much and totally did not turn on you at all. You sprung yourself up by the heels of your feet and charged at him with full determination to land at least one punch on his stupidly chiseled, handsome face.

It had been your second mistake, giving him too much time to brace himself. Already regretting your emotionally impulsive start, resulting in the punch you swung being easily deflected by Miguel.

His hand wrapped entirely around your wrist, bending your arm almost out of your socket and kicking the back of your knee to the mat with his heel. You feel down to a kneel with a hissing pain in your arm threatening to get worse at any wrong twist.

"Lose that fucking attitude, or you’ll get sloppy." As if your body could radiate any more anger, you knew he was just trying to push your buttons, trying to throw you off your game with smack talk that was not working on you or anything.

"Again," he prompted, letting your arm go and stepping back, egging on another attack from you.

"Give me a damn minute." No matter how much you wanted to snap back at him with something snarky, you knew it would only prove his point entirely—not only that but also the fact that he was mentally hitting you in all the places that he knew counted the most to throw you off your game.

Biting back the insult you already had threatened to slip from your tongue instead of making a point by rolling your eyes as you stumbled back to your feet. Rolling your sore shoulder back as your eyes scan over his stance, trying to find the best opening for a better attack, you steady your breath and cloud your mind in thought. "You aren't going to get anywhere but dead standing around like that, you know."

So much for wanting to consider your options. Miguel took the first swing at you and was on the verge of kicking you on your ass if it weren't for your shoddy dodge.

"Didn't you just say I had to be less fucking predictable?" You snarled, lifting your foot with most of your weight pointed in the direction of his jaw. Surprisingly, the kick landed just not in the place you wanted it to; instead, Miguel’s arm blocked the blow, much to your annoyance.

"I also said—" All he was doing was using dodging moves on you, swiping your other foot from under you as he held the other one that you kicked up in his arm, resulting in you landing once again flat on your ass. "to lose that fucking attitude."

You had not gone down without a fight, twisting and kicking, trying to wrestle your limbs free by any means. Miguel had almost embarrassingly quickly ceased your squirming, his palm cuffing your arms and pressing hard against your chest as his other hand pressed tightly into your thighs, folding your legs in place under his hips.

The position was interesting, to say the least, but you still had some fight in you, wiggling against his grip with any strength you had left to break free. It was a useless battle, but the man had his grip around you tight as well as an overpowering size difference that blanketed your entire figure like one big rock.

And that's how you caught yourself in another web of misfortune. Your nerves are surging at the feeling of something—him brushing against your calf. Maybe it was all the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the fact that you were practically being manhandled so easily that did another thing to your body, or maybe it was just pure horny instability that your brain couldn't even process the lewd whine that tugged from your throat after the fact that it had happened.

Watching in pure horror as Miguel loomed on top of you, his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved and his brows pulled together, the embarrassment from his confused, almost offended looking expression hit you fast. Here your body was betraying you once more, this time going absolutely haywire and melting like a stupid pile of putty at the fact that you were being body pressed against some mat with some guy's hard junk pressed into your leg.

You couldn't bear to even look him in the eye anymore, your head tilting to the side, pressing your cheek into the mat, and squeezing your eyes closed, not suddenly envying the spidermen with teleportation powers. "Fucking Christ, can you get off now?"

A beat of silence hovered between the small distance between you two, neither moving nor talking. It was starting to become unbearable how tightly Miguel had folded your legs against him, in the sense that you could already feel his body heat radiating. The close proximity did not help with how unbearably your heart was beating against your chest. "How do you manage after all of that to still have that shameless fucking attitude?"

You stilled at how his voice had managed to cut through your own thick cloud of betraying thoughts as well as the ringing in your eardrums. "Shameless? As if you don't have your dick pressed against me right now."

"By the sounds of it, you don't seem that bothered at all." Miguel taunted, You thought you were bound to die of embarrassment.

Yeah, this is how you went out—by dying from the sheer effect of your own extremely horny though—not some overpowered supervillain with a vendetta against you but Miguel O'Hara and his dick print.

You could already hear the new taunts that he would use against you, "Not even in your fucking dreams." being the only comeback that you could muster, your limbs tingling with slight pins and needles, threatening to go stiff under his unbound grasp.

"Oh, like you wouldn't love to," he sneered, shifting the weight from his hips flat against your thighs. "Probably thinking about me taking off these tight fucking shorts and having my way with you?" Your body reacted first to the accusation, cursing under your breath as you felt your second heartbeat flutter in between your legs.

His lingering stare hadn't helped one bit, and you watched from the sidelines as his eyes raked over your body with interest.

"I bet this was your plan the entire fucking time, huh?" He asked, leaning in as the distance dwindled until you could feel the brush of his breath against your face. "Put on some sweet naive act in front of everyone, knowing that you're getting yourself off on me throwing you around, touching yourself like some bitch in heat."

You hadn't bothered covering the whine that parted from your lips at the feeling of his erection slowly rutting against your thigh, the cocky smirk on his lips wanting you to melt away against the mat.

Miguel practically growled at the pathetic sounds that parted from your lips, tugging your legs apart to rut his hips down against your core. You shivered at the intrusion of his bulge pressed against your eagerness, the foreign feeling of him grinding against you left your thoughts in a dizzy fog.

"What? Can’t fucking speak now," he said as if he were dangling your most prized possession in front of your face, his fingers creeping into dangerous territory, making it a point for his fingertips to drag down your lower torso only to halt right above the elastic waistband of your shorts. "Go on, use your words."

"...fuck you."

The small amount of distance made the space between you two fall tensely thick, and the words spoken from your lips were different from the feelings that made your heart thud against your ribs. You weren't stupid, you knew Miguel could sense it, he could sense just about everything about your body from how close he kneeled on top of you.

Maybe that was why he had closed the distance so quickly after, letting the tight grip around your wrists give way to his hand finding a new objective, wrapping his fingers around your neck, not bothering to be gentle as he guided your lips towards his. The kiss was as rough as you had dreamed it to be. Eager for each other's kiss, you couldn't even process the noise that vibrated sharply from your throat before Miguel could pull away first, leaving you panting for more of his touch.

"First time I've ever seen you so quiet," his deep taunts were starting to grow unbearable, shifting your hips at the brush of his fangs against the jugular of your neck with every word, "who knew all you needed was some dick?" The harsh kisses he left trailing down to your collarbone made you feel like a hot, needy mess of putty. If it weren't for the tight grasp he had on your body, you were convinced that you would feel like you'd melt into some type of puddle. The growing frustration had only started to build up more as Miguel let go of your thighs, his hand trailing between your legs ruthlessly as the bud of his fingers rubbed against your clothed pussy.

As for why you shifted your hips up and let him impatiently tug and yank at the bow knotted around the waist of your shorts, breaking away from the red splotching light bruises already forming against your brown skin and wiggling you out of your shorts, Miguel thought it was quite the image, his eyes were fixated on the drooling sight of you under him, so vulnerable with your thighs hugging to your chest, spread open, revealing yourself in your pants.

All sanity was thrown out the window the moment he tugged you closer by your knees, your lower half lifted in his arms just enough for him to sit face to face with your cunt. His eyes darkened, his pupils blown as his tongue lapped over his lips, leaving you feeling restless. It was a slow and almost painful battle of trying to reach down and shove his face closer or buck your hips as his fingers sheathed and explored themselves against the fabric of your underwear.

As if Miguel could read your mind, his fingers hooked the fabric under the bend of his finger, followed by a quick tearing sound. "I’ll get you new ones," the comfort emitting a whine from your throat as you couldn't even scowl at him for ruining your underwear because you were too busy admiring the work his fingers were doing. Without warning, Miguel leans in closer, the warmth of his mouth almost sending you into a frenzy as his fingers spread open your lips, his lips sucking at your clitoral area, prompting you to let out a very lewd moan.

"Too loud," Miguel mumbled against your pussy, too busy webbed up in your own pleasure to even notice how every embarrassedly sloppy wet noise had seemed to perfectly echo throughout the empty room. You couldn't even explain the number of emotions that were flowing through you, from shame from being tongue fucked and fingered against the floor about the one man you hated so much to bashfulness from holding eye contact with him as he lay between your legs and ate your pussy like he was starving for you.

"I can't help it," you whined, shivering at the string of spit that contacted Miguel as he lifted his head in an idea. It took a second to process Miguel picking you up and turning you on your stomach, his hands guiding your hips up and stripping your torn panties down your legs to stuff them in your mouth.

Without a word, Miguel grabbed your ass with another hand, guiding your lower back into an arch as the other made small indents from his nail bearing into your cheeks as he spread them apart.

Before you could even feel embarrassed at the new position, he shoved his face between them, your moan being muffled by your makeshift cloth gag that worked a bit too well in lowering your whines as Miguel’s mouth sought his tongue out for your pussy once more.

"You're close I can smell it," you almost missed Miguel's groan over your building ecstasy, "just let it go, baby, let me take care of you. That's what you want, right?" His voice is drastically different from his usual rough, rude tone, softened to something of a coo that has managed to unknot your pleasure with his tongue. Your body tensed against his mouth for a moment as he had the nerve to suck his fingers clean. No grace period was given before he could lift you once more with a grunt, laying you flat on your back.

Slotting himself back between his legs, Miguel chuckled at the dazed look on your face. "It's alright, baby, I can take it from here." taking the balled up drool covered panties from your mouth and instead replaced them with his lips. The sensual change of pace wasn't enough to stop the shiver that rid your nerves of the feeling of his bare cock rutting against your slit, using his thumb to spread your lips apart to sink his tip inside of you with a low hiss against your mouth.

A gasp left yours as his girthy length intruded deeper inside of you, the burying stretch of his dick having your nails roughly grasping at the nape neck of his hair tugging a handful as his pace hadn't bothered to even get familiar already. Miguel’s hips weren't letting out as he fucked you almost animalistic against the floor. You were convinced he was trying to fuck you into the mat, to be one with the floor, which would perfectly explain the rough pace that left you breathless with each piston of his hips.

The graphically lewd sounds of your weak groans were nothing compared to the pornographic sound of your skin meeting his, your brain empty with nothing but greed, wanting to take everything and more of what Miguel was giving you. His fingers reach to unwrap your fingers tangled in his hair to intertwine them in his. "That's it, mama, that's it," he whispers against the shell of your ear, earning a whimpering reply from you, almost close to spilling the tears clouding your waterline.

Your mind couldn't process anything other than how good Miguel’s dick felt being shoved inside of you, his cock dragging against your tight, flustering walls with each shaky breath brushed against your ear. Your cunt seemed to react to Miguel’s lashes tickling against your neck as his eyes screwed tightly shut, muttering a string of compliments in his mother tongue.

You weren't lucky enough to be more stable, surprised that your throat hasn't gone horse with how ruined your vocal cords sounded in the pace of his pistoning hips. Only going up an octave higher as one of Miguel’s hands reaches down to pay attention to your clit, he doesn't stop even when your limbs start to tremble from your climax.

With one last hard thrust, he finally stills, your name being the only thing you could make out through his mumbling as his unfamiliar warm sensation welcomed itself inside of you.

Groaning right in your ear, he cums inside of you with his entire dead weight pressed against you, caging you against the floor. "Alright," Miguel sighs, settling on top of you once more with his arms holding himself just a few inches away from your face. "Again."

🔖 @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @inumakiiz @iheartlinds @creamyarishi @marzipaanz

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman smut #marvel #into the spider verse

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whore4gwen · 5 months ago

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Re8 Women dating HCs

Contains: Lady Dimitrescu, Donna Benevento, & Mother Miranda

WLW

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Tags: Light talks of manipulation, narcissism, and sadism, mental health issues, fluff, angst if you squint hard enough, possessiveness, slightly unhinged behavior, MY personal head cannons, very slight suggestiveness, Mirandas fucking God complex, isolation, religious elements, cuddling, poor perception of love, & tax evasion.

A/N: Im working on sm things rn it’s not even funny. Despite that, I desperately wanted to post something, so here’s some of my hc. No these are not all my hcs, these are just some of the REALISTIC ones I have. These are based on my own personal perception of these fictional characters. You are welcome to disagree with anything I write, but you’re not welcome to harass me about it. Please keep negativity to yourselfs. Anyways, please enjoy!

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Alcina:

-It’s not that Lady Dimitrescu is incapable of loving another, I just think it’s the way she would love.

-Carnal, possessive, dangerous, a little crazed even. Nothing about the lady’s love is sensual or soft. She’s powerful, domineering, and boy does she relish in it. Of course she’s aware of all the things she could do, all the things you’d let her do. So willing, so compliant, so easy to control.

-Alcina is a narcissist through and through. You will bend to her will, to her every need. You’re hers, after all. (We still love you thou)

-I feel like her love is very incessant, very smothering for lack of better words. She’s not exactly clingy, but she needs you around, she needs to feel your presence.

-Always, and I mean always watching you. Nothing you do will go past her. She needs to know exactly where you are and what you’re doing at all times.

-A bit emotionally manipulative. Of course she doesn’t see it that way, she just wants everything to go her way. What’s so wrong with that?

-I think for the most part she’s a little self aware about her flaws and what not, but I wouldn’t say this with 100% certainty. A big part of her doesn’t really see a problem with the way she is. It’s absolutely normal.

-But to be fair, it’s not like anyone would call her out.. so🤷🏻‍♀️

-Pet names pet names pet names. Alcina absolutely adores them. She only really uses your names unless she’s really pissed. In that case, run.

Donna:

-Shy. So incredibly so that you don’t hear her voice till weeks after working for her. And the way your jaw fell to the ground when you heard it had Angie belly laughing on the ground. If it wasn’t for her, you thought maybe you were hearing things.

-Forgets to eat often. She gets so preoccupied with her dolls, she doesn’t always take the best care of herself. So make sure you remind her to eat:(

-It’ll take AGES to get Donna there, but when you do, she is nothing short of the wait. Very passionate, and a little unhinged.

-Like Alcina, she’s a bit possessive.

-She finally found someone she was comfortable with showing her scare, you’re not going anywhere. You belong to her and that’s final. You’re literally stuck, so get comfortable.

-Values your opinion over everything. Her cooking, her sewing skills, her Garden. Donna swoons at praise. A light pink dusting her cheeks any time you compliment her, no matter how minor.

-Poor Donna has been alone for quite some time now. Touch starved as well as touch repulsed. Have fun with that :)

- Canonically, Donna has really bad mental health issues, which causes her to lash out and make rash decisions. She’s not abusive by any means, just a lot to handle.

-She gets into her own head a lot. Constantly convincing herself none of this is real. That one day she’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.

-I know she has manic episodes. Cannot convince me otherwise. Before you, they were almost unmanageable. Your first experience dealing with Donna during one terrified you. You were so worried about Donna, you had no idea what was happening.

-You tried desperately to comfort her. Unfortunately the voices were stronger than your weak attempts.

-After a while, she finally calmed down and explained that catastrophe as best as she could without scaring you off.

-At first Donna didn’t really understand the purpose of cuddling. It’s not that she didn’t want to, she was just truly confused. After having the significance of cuddling explained to her, she fell in love with it.

-Unironically, she’s the big spoon. She loves holding you, making sure you’re safe in her arms. Now, it’s the only way she can fall asleep.

Miranda:

-This bitch is so crazy.

-All shits and giggles aside, this woman is absolutely sadistic.

-Mind games are inevitable. Especially if she’s truly in love with you, in her dark and twisted way.

-Possessive asf.

-Did I already say possessive?

-Miranda is definitely stingy and will isolate you from your friends/family. Why do you need them when you have her? She’s your Goddess, she’s all you need. Never mind everyone else.

-Definitely the type to tell you to take a nap if you ever say you’re tired of her shit.

-You’re not going anywhere. Nice try, but no.

-I know this is obvious, but her God complex is really top tier. I mean seriously.

-Absolutely loves being worshipped, and not just in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. She wants to be put first, she wants to be your number one priority, your Goddess, your everything.

-She will find a way to incorporate her status & power in everything she does.

-She loves you, but you must always remember your place, under her. Figuratively and literally.

-Despite her cut off personality, she’s definitely a cuddlier. Especially after a long day of failed experiments and aggravating meetings.

-Like Donna, Miranda has been alone for almost a century. She’s so damn touch starved yet also incredibly touch repulsed at the same time. Have fun coping.

-Of course she threatened you if you ever told anyone thou. I mean can you imagine THE Mother Miranda being spooned? Imagine what the public would say.

-Fucking tax evader.

-After she gets Eva back, successfully, she lessens up, but only a bit. Like Alcina, she is the way she is and she doesn’t really see the problem with it.

I want all three of them so badly.

#re8 village #resident evil 8 #headcanons #alcina dimitriscu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda is so hot #mother miranda x reader #I need all three of them #poor cutie patootie Donna #wlw fanfic #possessive #crazy #tax evasion #cults #mother miranda #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady beneviento #resident evil #Alcina being a badass bitch

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kyri45 · 2 months ago

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✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 7/11✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: AWIUSBSWDN I LOVE your art especially your LMK comic! Wanted to ask if you've seen that one fan art on twitter from @/Jay_chaos_art on twitter (or X) That is the part where little MK is holding Macaque's finger AAAA that scene is too cute! Also poor MK :']

Awww I saw that! It's sooooo good!!! For anyone wanting to see it, check it out HERE!

Anonimo ha chiesto: ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡᴘᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs ᴀᴜ ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏ ɪ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇsᴜɴ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ? ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs ɪᴛ's ᴀ sᴏɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜᴛᴜʙᴇ.ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ!

Aw thanks for the song rec!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: If I remember correctly macaque can hear people thoughts so I just imagine mk having thoughts about ✨courtnapping✨ and macaque just hears it

Macaque is just

Anonimo ha chiesto Mei if she knew what was going on inside MK’s head. Mei: it’s called being a “Furry” MK it’s the biggest plus to have in a world filled with anthropomorphic animal Yaoguai. That and the awesome magic stuffs.

me too Mei, the fuck

Anonimo ha chiesto: Soo that time when shadowpeach were at pigzi's and saw tang with the "bite mark"🌝 Did they realise what was goinn on?? Will they like ask mk or smt about it? *I can imagine the shock on their faces*

They don't know if either to be shocked or not since they called it

@straightally2001 ha chiesto: I love and hunger for Spicynoodles! 🍜🔥 What if during demon courting season, Pif decides that even though her son is strong she doesn't want to risk her son to end up court napped by some demon stranger that he doesn't even like. She wants him to be happy. So, she goes to MK and tells him about Red Son's feeling for him and convinces him to courtnap Red Son.

asjcajcb can't answer yet bc of spoilers!!

@stardynamite ha chiesto: I was desperately searching for another good fandom fanfic to latch onto here because I can’t draw fanart at the moment and you have saved me for my eternal searching with your lmk au, thank you sire🫡 I am forever indebted to you for thouesth servicesth

Aw thank youu!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: What would a demon do with the other person after they courtnapped them? Like is it just a forced date?

Nah I mean, If they refuse the courtnapping the captors has to release them otherwise they would just look like an asshole. If they agree then it's more of a surprise date.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Other demons who have tried to cournap wukong seeing Macaque do it with ease: HOW THE FUCK DID HE NOT DIE

He has the advantages that Wukong is a Simp

@wolfsonic ha chiesto: AWWWWWW!!! I LOVE THESE MONKIESSS! I just imagine Mk and Mac training with shadows, and Mk decided one day to practice his shadows by trying to tickle WuKong!

betrayed by his own son

@phoenixeclipse-lmkau ha chiesto: Is Macaque going to have to re-courtnap Wukong because they broke up before? Or would Wukong Courtnap Macaque after all this. Or are they just gonna skip the courtnapping part since they already did it in the past?

depends if we go by the headcanon that courtnapping=marriage

@elixcv ha chiesto: HI! first of all, I just wanna say that I LOVEEEEEEE you bio parent AU, it simply scratches something in my brain. I wish you all the good things in the world(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ Now, in second place, I have 2 questions (and dw, if it's smth u don't/can't answer i don't mind, i just wanna say it, i guess?): 1. In your AU, pigsy is some kind of lower/not-so-strong demon? And, if he is, did he also Courtnapping Tang in his own way? 2. Can the courtnapping go both ways? Like, it just can happen one time per couple, or is a requirement that u have to courtnapping the other person back to show ur feelings? Bc, I can see a MK Courtnapping RS, and then RS trying to Courtnapping back, and in my head is like they're playing around the city in a complicated game of tag, or a hide n' seek. This can also apply to swk and macaque. I appreciate your thoughts about anything of this, even if I'm wrong in every way. I'm so excited about this AU and really love the way you write/draw it (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤ (sorry for the bad English, I know to read/hear but the grammatical is always a pain in my ass ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

Yes, he's a lower demon, but in the end, it was Tang who did the courtnapping bc he thought that Pigsy wouldn't date him if he didn't court him the demon way, while Pigsy was planning on courting him the human way.

Yes. I think courtnapping can go both way but it's not a must or expected to.

@straightally2001 ha chiesto: I was reading your last post about MK and his mortality and I was wondering, if MK was on the verge of dying and there was no other way to save him would Monkey King give him a Peach of Immortality? Would MK be upset about it? Also sorry if this question is too angsty 😅 Anonimo ha chiesto: Isn't redson immortal due to being half celestial or fallen celestial idk? Wouldn't he try to convince mk to take it if they get together? @purpleprinceblood ha chiesto: I think Wukong desperately wants Mk to be immortal but also knows that a) Mk would hate it and b) Wukong would too Like, dude has severe depression from his immortality and his friends leaving him, I think he would hate to watch Mk deal with that I could see Wukong offering Mk a life span growing thing, like in jttw iirc the peaches add like 500 years to your life span, Wukong just eats so many of them that they make him immortal, so I could see him offering it as a "I'm scared to lose you but also don't want you suffering like I do" @sakurablossoms-world ha chiesto: Wouldn’t MK technically be long-living since he’s the child of two powerful entities, I mean Redson is 500 and he’s considered to be in his early 20’s by mortal comparison, so wouldn’t it be expected that he’d outlive everyone (Redson and maybe Mei being an exception)? So while he would still value his mortality, immortality wouldn’t really make that big a difference in hindsight. Then again I could be mistaken.

I think MK wouldn't like to become immortal against his choice regardless. Yes, in S1 we see he wanted to become one, but I think he still was in that phase were he just wanted to be/do everything like his hero. And that included eating a peach of immortality. I don't think he ever thought of the implication of being immortal

@yainmy ha chiesto: If Mk has been developing more of Macaques powers does that mean he can develope shadow clones like Rumble and Savage? Or will it be a chaotic nightmare like that one clones episode in the series?

He can only control one shadow clone: his own shadow!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello, I'm too nervous to send this non-anonymously, but I was wondering if I could take inspo from your ShadowPeach Bio parents AU for my own AU called Twins Of The Cycle? It's an AU with my oc, I basically just gave MK a twin.

Nope. If you want to ask for permission, you need to ask me not in anounymous.

@oddogoblino ha chiesto: Random but I find it so silly to imagine Wukong doesn't have the courtnapping instinct bc he's just a stone monkey (made up of pieces of heaven itself + the earth bc...stone), so the times he blushes over Mac are just him imagining cute innocent stuff like wanting to hold Macaque super close and cuddly. Also funnier thing, I was playing with the idea of shape-shifting being gender-limited for most beings/demons and Wukong's ability to shape-shift into women being wukong being an iconic monkey again so your latest update is a very fun surprise ! Yippee!!!

waitwaitwait I got it-

Anonimo ha chiesto: Can they monkeys purr like kittens?? It will be SOO CUTE if they can!!!✨

Maybe???

Anonimo ha chiesto: was Macaque ever more reckless than Wukong ? Maybe in their youth 🤔

Oh definetely

Anonimo ha chiesto: did the Brotherhood in your AU know about Wukong being trans or Macaque courtnapping Wukong? did one of them try to courtnap someone, including our fav monkey boys? 👀👀👀

Yes, the brotherhood knew

@blossomhill36353 ha chiesto: AAAAAAAHHHH THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOOD!!! I love u and your shadowpeach AU with all of my heart u know that!!!!❤️❤️❤️ I have a question tho!! Soo about the glamour thing are they can teach MK how to use one? And since mac has already shown without glamour Infront of MK will Wukong do the same as well??

Yes MK knows the basic of glamours. as for your second question, who knows....

@cutvdo ha chiesto: How oblivious / dense do you think Redson is? like would he notices when MK is blushing?

I'll tell you that, in the last comic, he actually did (the crowd goes in a standing ovation for the idiots of the century)

Anonimo ha chiesto: sooooo a lot of ppl like having Macaque having white hair/fur bc BUT does Wukong have any that he’s ashamed to admit?? 👀👀👀👀

he has but they are only stress related

Anonimo ha chiesto: I like how the shadow tickle courtnapping implies that Macaque could've gained the upper hand during any of their fights in the series, but he chose not to because the feelings associated with it were still raw.

Ah. Ok. Well, thank you but now I gotta stay in the corner and cry after this information

Anonimo ha chiesto: If Wukong and Macaque had been around for school who would the school prefer come if they called home Macaque or Wukong. I feel like Wukong because macaque would be overprotective.

They are the meme where MK got into a fight and they come in a hurry just to ask him if he won

Anonimo ha chiesto: I want someone to call either Macaque and Wukong old, and they get super mad and try to say they aren't old but they are

they are. they are very old.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Has macaque ever had to deal with Wukong having a period?? Does Wukong even have any if he shape-shifts?? Sorry if this feels inappropriate. Anonimo ha chiesto: WAIT, DOES WUKONG BEING TRANS MEAN MACAQUE HAD/HAS TO DEAL WITH HIS PERIODS?!?!.! ANCHHDMSBJFMDBCMDN 😂

Yup, he still has the normal period symptoms and Mac had to stay with him all the time

Anonimo ha chiesto: Who would ask "would you still love me if I was a worm"

Wukong. And he would do it while shapeshifting as a worm

Anonimo ha chiesto: If they where like super angry at someone or something would Wukong & Macaque hiss (not sure what you would call the noise but, full on fangs out.)

I think yeah.

autism-autobot ha chiesto: Are we ever going to see the pilgrims in the shadowpeach bio parents au?

Nope

k4izershasfreakycanon ha chiesto: Hello,so if you dont remember me i was the one who made a custom outfit for mk! i only have the front rendered and coloref so i just wanted to say that you're always allowed to use it in comics! just please credit me:)

Thank you! But I made already his outfit way prior your own post so I already planned to using my original design.

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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mentos-or-mentoes · 10 months ago

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Headcanons! Cult of the lamb

Leshy, Heket, Shamura, Kallamar, Narinder and The lamb.

General:

(this will be in follower form for the bishops)

Leshy

Dude is definetly not happy upon being indoctrinated into the cult.

Like first he gets killed by the lamb and NOW he has to follow their commands? Yeah to say the least he might be a bit annoyed at first.

When you first introduce yourself, he might be a little skeptical mainly because he was a bishop so what were you gonna do? Make fun of him? Pull a ''prank'' Just because you could?

Surprisingly, no! You were kind, just trying to get to know him better, and trying to get him to know the cult a little better.

He is forever greatful if you help him around the place.

Romantic:

If Leshy smells anything he thinks is something like a flower, then he might try and guide you towards them.

Mainly because it might be difficult picking them, when he cant see where the hell he's going.

9.5 / 10 hugs and you cant convince me otherwise.

He might be a bit moist because of all the stuff growing on him but he definetly smells nice. (or atleast i headcanon it as such).

He can and will be a living scarf if he REALLY craves your attention.

He will just snuggling up to you in the middle of whatever you were doing.

Heket

General:

Heket was not the happiest when she awoke in the lambs cult to say the least.

Allthough she was hungry, (cant blame her tbh).

When you approached her and offered her a couple of berries as a little welcome gift you definetly became one of her favorites.

She probably didn't even want to try and care for someone that isn't her siblings, at this point.

She especially appreceates if you basically speak for her, mainly because you can get to the point (and the words) alot faster then her.

Heket will do absolutely anything to avoid you or anyone else finding out anything that embarrases her that isnt known, like her losing to the lamb.

She enjoys all meals with either you or her siblings.

Romantic:

If you pick her up in front of others for no reason you are getting the frog equivilent of a bitch slap.

She does still have a reputation to uphold to prevent the followers from being too cruel even as a member of the cult.

Okay but seriously, Heket is basically your knight in shining armor.

Someones bothering you? just tell Heket, and she will take care of it.

She loves it when you bring her snakcs while waiting for a meal to be done whenever you cook.

Can and will pass you notes of what she wants you to say to someone, if she's really annoyed bcause of something they did.

Might be dissapointed if you rephrase it, to not be as rude as what she wrote.

Shamura

General:

Them always seeking knowledge was definetly one of the things that allowed you to bond with them quickly.

You telling them about things they might find interesting, and them sharing some of the things they remember.

Shamura likes it when you remind them of small things they might forget.

They also like sharing stories of their past with you, or giving you small gifts.

Not that they cant defend themselves against other cult members who might be looking for payback (they probably can't).

But you talking some sense into the cultists heads definetly does not go unoticed.

Romantic:

Shamura probably does like cuddles, especially when comforting them.

Might forget that you gave them something and try to return it to you.

If you remind them, then well they'll probably feel a bit ashamed that they forgot one of your gifts.

Please comfort Shamura if this happens.

(sorry i couldn't come up with much for them Shamura fans).

Kallamar

General:

Kallamar is a very nervous person so you showing them kindness was definetly unexpected.

you being nice? To him, and this quickly? You must be plotting something, he thought. but when you continuesly kept showing kindness and defended him from any rude cult members, he quickly realized that it wasn't the case.

he likes it alot when you reassure him that everythings gonna be fine. This man isn't much for standing up for himself. So if you do stand up for him, when other cultists come to do whatever they'd wanna do, he'll be very thankful.

If you went through the trouble of learning sign language just to communicate with him easilier his heart basically melts (not literally though).

Romantic:

He loves holding your hand. he likes the comfort of you being around.

expect him to be with you for a majority of the time.

will hug you whenever he feels nervous if he is allowed to (usually he is).

If he's trying to talk to you about something personal he'll usually use sign language with you when alone.

Kallamar spends so much time with you that half of his stuff is probably at your place.

Narinder

General:

He was not letting anyone even try and converse with him, after his indoctrination.

Not like people were gonna try anyway, considering what he tried to do.

But theres always someone different, and that just so happened to be you.

You kept trying to start a conversation, pestering him untill he finally tried to actually speak with you.

He wasn't very happy when he finally did start talking.

Despite that you just kept coming back.

Soon he actually started trying to engage the conversations, not really having much else to do.

Small conversation became a small friendship.

Soon Narinder found himself actively trying to spend time with you , and you were more then happy to do so.

Atleast the place wasn't as bad now for Narinder.

Romantic:

This dude is for close to anything but PDA (Public displays of affection).

Will purr if you hug him.

Narinder will never admit it but he's a total cuddle bug when in private.

Will do anything to prevent the lamb from finding out because he already knows he's gonna get teased for eternity the second they find out.

May or may not actively seek you out if he's getting really needy for some cuddles.

Will have orange cat level stupid behavior if he somehow gets his hands on catnip.

The lamb / Lambert.

General:

upon first meeting you, for whatever reason you were wandering around the lands of the old faith, they immidietly asked if you wanted to become part of their cult.

Likes your dedication to the crown and the cult

If you're especially dedicated to the cult then they might read your mind (and might find out you're in love but who knows).

Definetly tries to become closer with you.

They might ask if you wanna go on walks to take a break from all the work.

If you have any problems then the lamb will be willing to do just about anything to help (not everything though).

Romantic:

The lamb definetly makes the first move.

They shower you in gifts, kisses and cuddles whenever they're not busy.

Will do a marriage ritiual as soon as you feel comfortable with it.

Will spend lots of time with you in their free time.

You're probably being put in charge of taking care of things whenever they go on crusades, mainly because they trust you the most.

Doesn't have alot of time when they're not working but they spend almost every second that they're not busy beside you

Expect surprise hugs.

Lots and lots of surprise hugs.

Alot of people are probably both jealous and happy for you because of you being with the lamb.

The lamb does not care because they got the most wonderful person in the world as their partner aka you <3.

(Hope you enjoyed my first ever headcannons)

#cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl lamb x reader #cotl bishops x reader #Shamura x reader #narinder x reader #leshy x reader #heket x reader #lambert x reader

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lovemouche · 11 months ago

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lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line.

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you.

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No.

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself.

Love, the most twisted curse of all.

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you.

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?"

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch.

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement.

"Talk to me," he encourages.

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet.

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more.

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless.

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms.

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words.

"Should I pull out?"

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now."

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers.

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath.

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation.

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry.

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore.

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything.

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself.

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry."

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o—oh—okay?"

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment.

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be.

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace.

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless.

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking.

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul.

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged.

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you.

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet.

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality.

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours.

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread.

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?"

He falls apart.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is.

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says.

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me."

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't."

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?"

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy."

Your eyebrows pinch.

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying."

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim.

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away.

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry."

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage.

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger.

Even worse, a mistake.

"Please?"

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is.

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery.

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?"

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though.

"Tell me, please."

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you."

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection.

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process,

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you.

It's as simple as that, really.

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you."

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away."

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda.

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you.

You groan. "this is not the time."

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say."

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?"

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment.

It's all still so surreal.

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing.

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters.

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex.

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."

#writing #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #gojo smut

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soracities · 7 months ago

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Hi, how do you manage to see children as good? I would like to, but I only see them as inconsiderate and terrifing in a way a military robot would be terrifing. Not evil, because they are wired that way and it's just who they are, but everyone would be better off avoiding them. I've been to therapy because I was bullied, but I didn't change my mind. I kinda feel like it's an elephant in the room and I am right. I'd like to hear the good stories as often as possible tho, maybe sth will change

I'm not coming for you, but with all due respect it's not "just who they are".

Children aren't military robots because they aren't lifeless hunks of machinery incapable of thought or feelings; they are human beings (like you were at that age) who are trying to make sense of the world around them (like you did at that age), and who want to be a part of that world and feel welcome in it (like you did at that age). They are not coded to do the same thing over and over with no input from anyone else, they are not machines singly wired for carnage: they watch, learn, adapt, respond and interact with things around them because these are smaller, younger versions of you and me learning what it means to exist on this planet in the first place with barely any filters, impulse control and absolutely no guidance on how to do this except what the environment around them (parents, friends, family, teachers) tell them is and isn't okay.

I don't believe this is a matter of inherent goodness or lack thereof--I don't believe anyone is inherently good or bad: what I believe is that we are all inherently social creatures who desperately want to be part of our communities and involved with other people. Children are no different. They want to learn, they want to help, they want to figure out where they belong in their little social units and they look to you to tell them where that is because they don't know yet. And if they are in an environment where bullying is okay (either because they were treated horribly and no one did anything or they see and hear others being treated horribly and no one did anything or they treated someone else horribly and no one did anything) than that is what they'll accept.

If you follow your logic that everyone is "better off "avoiding children--what then? How do you expect them to learn right from wrong if no one is volunteering to teach them? How do you expect bullying to stop if no one is taking the time to instill it in them that bullying is not okay? How do you expect them to ever learn to be kind and considerate when everyone around them makes it clear they're not wanted? How do you expect them to learn what any kind of care and responsibility looks like if everyone is avoiding them to begin with? How do you expect them to think for themselves and reach their own conclusions if you treat them all like a monolith? Every single adult is an ex-baby, an ex-child, an ex-teenager--how do you expect decent adults to come into this world if you avoid teaching all three of those?

I'm not saying any of this to dismiss what you went through or undermine the horror and the impact of it, and I genuinely am sorry you were put through so much. But the best way I can answer your question is with full honesty: and I think it is going to be difficult for you to find those "good stories" and be open to them if you are already convinced that you are right because of what happened to you, that children are automatically feral terrors and that everyone else is just pretending otherwise or ignoring the reality. I believe what I believe because I've spent years around kids and seen all sides of them. I know they can say horrible things. But I also know they learnt those horrible things from a careless adult, or another child exposed to a careless adult. Children can be terrifying--but they are terrifying to other children. And that terror is coming from a reactive and limited understanding of the world where so much of what happens to you often feels like it's coming from large, hidden, horrible forces you can't wrap your head around (because you can't, because your head is 8 years old). But the fact is adults are also terrifying to children. And which of those are you now?

I can't speculate on what you went through or how you processed it, but I think it's worth considering that you may still be looking at children through the eyes of the child you once were and the horrible experiences you had. Again, I'm not dismissing that pain--it's real and it happened to you, and I can absolutely understand your feelings and conclusions--but that doesn't mean they equate to objective conclusions or generalization about all children, especially since you were a child: would you look at yourself like something similar to a military robot? Would you want to have felt the adults around you thought it better to stay away from you? And what about the people in your life that you care about most? Can you imagine them when they were children, like you were? Would you think the same thing about them?

If you want to change your mind, you need to put yourself in situations where that opportunity arises without expecting that your belief is the default. If you can, ask teachers what their fondest memories are of teaching--what's the funniest thing they've heard, what's the kindest thing they've seen, what's surprised them most about kids? What have they learnt from kids (because you do learn--you learn all the time). Ask people who love children why they love children, or simply see if you can find discussions on forums where people share those stories. As I said, I've heard and seen kids do some awful things--but those are tiny compared to everything I've seen that is the opposite (boys giggling face to face on a hill, a tiny toddler waving at me on a bus, a child naming a slug that crept in through his window, a 9 year old boy trying to teach me morse code after having known me for 2 minutes despite how long it took me to understand). It might also help if you give yourself the opportunity to learn a little about child psychology--if people's experiences aren't enough for you, then maybe getting insights into how children's actual brains and minds work might. If you're curious, there's a documentary series from 2015 or so that follows 4, 5, and 6 years olds as they play and engage with each other here to try and understand what their world looks like.

Sincerely, I don't mean for any of this to sound harsh and I really hope it doesn't--but at the end of the day there isn't a secret, pure anecodte that will magically make you change your mind. Change isn't passive; it's something you decide to do and actively work on and that includes challenging your own beliefs by providing them with new and wider information. I'm not saying you have to become a kindergarten teacher to do this, or start spending all your time around children. But if we are going to survive in this world and forge any kind of lasting connections we have to be able to offer some amount of grace and understanding to each other and the people in our lives--and that goes doubly for the people who have barely even begun learning to be people at all.

#ask #Anonymous #i hope some of this helps anon 💗#notes from elsewhere

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bellarkeselection · 8 months ago

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1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

Part 2

The Venus Muse

Here's the first chapter y'all! I am sorry to say that I couldn't tag some of you that asked to be added. If you could give me an update profile tag I will add you that way.

Buckingham Palace was always busy with something going on. The royal castle had many children over the years running around it. I knew this place better than anyone else could imagine. And that truth will help me change my life forever.

“Your highness, which tiara would you wish for today?” One of my handmaidens named Sunset asked me.

She was standing by my table vanity that had quite a few tiaras sitting on top of them. Sitting on my bed the fabric of my golden dress swayed when I walked up to her. “The one with three center jewels and the pearl necklace.”

“Of course, my lady.” She nodded where I lowered my head and she set the tiara in the center.

The tiara sparkled when the light bounced off the light coming through the window. I stood in front of the tall mirror eyeing my gown that was golden, short sleeves decorated in lace and was long where you couldn’t see the short brown boots I wore unless my dress flew up from the wind. “Sunset, do you think my mother shall begin pressuring me this year?”

“It is not my place to speak on.”

I reassured her otherwise. “Don’t worry about prying ears. I am asking for your opinion.”

“I would say she seeks what is best for you, Lady Y/n.” Sunset answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Someone knocked on the outside of my door before another lady in waiting peaked her head inside. “Princess, your mother is coming this direction.” I nodded brushing my hands down the front of my dress.

The door of my bedroom opened for me to see my mother, Lady Danbury and Brimsley all walking up to my room. “I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected, to turn this season on its head. That is what we need. There is no room for indifference. Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, a young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates todayâ€¦”

My mother cut off her friend. “Do you think she will return? We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realized taking on her queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.”

Lady Danbury responded. “It is a convincing theory, ma'am.”

“Or she simply left for the country, as the rest of us did in the off-season, bored by the lack of any real gossip.”

Lady Danbury made a noise. “Hmm. “

“You do know what that would make her, then?” My mother Queen Charlotte trailed off.

I finished her sentence being fair too noisy, needing to listen to the conversation of the famous gossiping writer. “One of us.”

“My darling daughter, you look radiant as ever.” My mother turned away from her friend to face me.

I sent her a smile waving to Lady Danbury to not be rude. “It’s good to see you, Lady Danbury.”

“Good to see you too, Princess Y/n.” She smiled.

My mother clasped her hands together in front of her puffy white dress. “I have been needing to speak with you and what this evening needs to entail for you and your happiness.”

“You wish for me to marry a prince and provide heirs for the crown.” I rolled my eyes already thinking of the answer she would say.

Yet to my surprise she said almost the opposite. “I wish for you to have happiness and many children. It would help if your husband was royalty, but it is not a requirement.”

“It isn’t?” Knitting my brows in confusion.

She takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t get the chance to search for love on my own. My brother arranged my marriage with your father. So I secretly hope that you, my firstborn daughter, can have some fun.”

“Mother, Iâ€¦that means so much to me.” I smiled through some happy tears.

Footsteps came down the long hallway and around the corner before we saw my father’s servant named Reynolds. “My Queen, my princess. I have news.” He bowed with a hand behind his back.

“What is it, Reynolds?” I asked him.

He shifted his gaze to mine. “You're father is having an episode, Princess.”

“Ohâ€¦” I made a noise in discomfort. I knew of his illness

That was the secret my mother and the rest of my siblings and I kept hidden from thr world. They needed to believe that the king was just always busy and so his wide made the appearances out on the town. “Hmm it appears we may have to cancel the ball tonight for the Bridgertons.” My mother sighed in defeat knowing her husband came first.

“We shall not cancel.” My mother and Reynolds’s both shifted their attention over to me when I had spoken up the opposite of what they assumed would need to be done. “We should not cancel because I can represent the family in your place, mother.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that could solve our problem. I don't wish to cancel the months of preparation that were put into this.”

“Exactly that would be a tragedy.”

The queen turned to her husband's helper with instructions. “Inform my husband I will come to his aid. Brimsley?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

She gave him a different set of orders. “Inform the Viscount Bridgerton that my daughter shall be appearing tonight before myself.” He bowed and went in a different direction then Reynolds.

“Thank you, mother.” I smiled curtseying to her before we parted for the evening. It was quite a few hours before the ball with our castle subjects and the Bridgertons would even begin. By the evening the moon was shining up in the sky and the grand ballroom was lit up like a christmas tree.

Standing silently outside the currently shut double doors I stopped fiddling with my dress when one of the royal guards gave me a head nod saying it was time. I could hear the announcer's voice before the doors had even begun opening. “May I present to you her royal highness. The daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte, Princess Y.n of England.”

“Thank you, sir.” I whispered to another guard that came to me when I had made my entrance through the doors feeling all eyes on me. Sucking in a tiny breath he escorted me to the small throne before we unlinked arms leaving me on my own. The small crown on my head had never felt so heavy as it did right now. “Greetings my subjects. I am here to announce that my mother got called away tonight for an emergency. But she saw no reason why this event couldn’t go on as planned. So with that in mind let me extend a warm welcome to Violet Bridgerton and her family for traveling here for a few months.”

Everyone began clapping and cheering with an older looking woman who had dark brown hair up in a crown on her head that came up to me and gave a lovely curtsey. “Princess, it is a pleasure to get an invitation.”

“I hope I can get to meet your family greatly over your stay, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Princess Y/n, may I ask you something?” Someone called my name causing me to lift my gaze up noticing someone moving through the crowd. The figure paused beside the Bridgerton woman who seemed to give the man a confused but amused depression on her face.

I clicked my tongue and answered the stranger's question. “What is your question, my lord?”

“I was wondering if you would accept my offer for a dance together this evening.” The stranger seemed similar to the woman he was standing beside him. I was fairly certain they were related, but which son was he if they were.

He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having theur eyes focused on the two of us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @ritz-hell-hotel

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risestarkiss · 1 month ago

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Leo's TERRIBLE Coping Skills

Rise Ramblings #1001 (A reimagining of "Being Baby Blue")

youtube

(Closed captions and subtitles are available in multiple languages)

With this video, I actually ran a small experiment.

I was curious as to what YouTube would do with my vids if I did not share them myself. Therefore, I let this video sit on YouTube for a week without sharing.

However, the results startled me...

It turns out YouTube does not actually share my videos!!! According to my analytics, the video was not shared with anyone outside of my subscribers, and even then, I'm not convinced that most of my subscribers were even alerted to the video....

Mind you, I spent WEEKS on the music and soundtrack alone. I pour my all into every piece of content I make, and for YouTube to not even allow people to see it...is not right. 😔😔😔

So, that means, it's up to me. Or, I should say, it's up to US! Because, for my channel to be successful, I can not do this alone. 💜

So, If you like my videos, or like what I do, please consider the following methods of support:

On Tumblr

• Although I cherish each and every like and comment, if you enjoy my video and want others to see it, please REBLOG. (If not, I understand!!! But do let me know if there is something in my vids you dislike. I welcome all criticism and I am always trying to improve! 🙌)

On YouTube

YouTube's algorithm is kicking my butt! Lol. To let it know that you want it to share my work with others, please: • Subscribe and Hit the Bell, otherwise YT won't let you know when I upload. • Comment and Like for the engagement. (The algorithm loves engagement!)

And Beyond: KOFI | 🎵 BANDCAMP🎵

(only if you are so inclined. If not, again, no worries!!!!💜)

○○○○

PS. Btw, my next few vids are well into production, and let's just say...they're starting to get a bit more...fashionable...

So Please Stay Tuned! 💜💜💜

I love ya, and appreciate you! Thank you so much for all of your support. 😫🥺😌

💜💜💜

#Youtube #starkiss ramblings #rise analysis #rottmnt analysis #character analysis #Leonardo Ramblings #rottmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt2018 #tmnt 2k18 #tmnt 2018 #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rise of the tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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exceptionimagines · 2 months ago

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Meeting and Dating Jerry Dandridge

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(The real ones know about the struggles of the meeting scenario. They also know that I'm kind of referencing the original fright night with the whole 'reincarnated lost love' thing. Also, sorry that this ones kind of horny, guess I just had that dawg in me at the time lol.)

- When you tell people you're not the type of girl to get noticed, it's not some lame attempt to garner sympathy or an admission of low self esteem. You're not pouting at them and crying out for help, begging them to tell you otherwise or to comfort you about the unfortunate state of your love life.

- No, you're simply stating a fact: one you've never really deemed as the end of the world or some egregious issue that you must work to overcome. There's nothing wrong with being the way that you are and no amount of magazines or movies or books will convince you otherwise. You've come to terms with being plain; with being easily ignored, and at this point in your life, you don't really notice it anymore.

- It's only when Jerry Dandridge moves into your neighborhood that you find yourself reconsidering this once definitive description of yourself....

- Due to your lifelong experience of being overlooked, you've grown used to interacting with everyone around you as a sort of sexless being. You don't overthink things when meeting someone for the first time, you don't try to flirt or expect them to find you so attractive that they'll have no other choice but to ask you out. No, you view yourself the same way a little old lady would, expecting people to treat you in a platonic, "well isn't she sweet" kind of way; liking your company but never considering you as an option when thinking of a potential future partner.

- It's why you're so casual when meeting your new, incredibly attractive neighbor for the first time: shaking his hand and welcoming him to the area with a polite smile instead of the lovestruck and giggly grins of the other women around you. You keep things cordial and you think nothing of it when he first starts focusing in on you, always bringing the conversation back to you as you stand amongst a couple other neighbors; the same ones who called you over to greet the man when they noticed you returning home from work.

- At first you think he's trying to be nice, that he notices you're a little reserved and wants to keep you included whenever you seem to get lost in the chaotic cacophony of voices. But then you notice that he isn't really addressing anyone else in the circle directly, that he's seemingly only interested in what you think of things and what you want to say; almost to the point where the conversation is beginning to feel like a one on one talk with spectators.

- You're not used to the attention, not used to having someone specifically drawn to you out of everyone else in an entire crowd; a crowd that includes far more conventionally attractive women than yourself. You're confused when he keeps looking at you, sharing little smiles with you while your other neighbors speak, like you're the most important one there and that he wants you to know that. Your mind races when trying to figure out why he's behaving in such a way....

- It isn't until one of the older lady's on your street nudges you and coos about you having a "new admirer" that you actually consider the idea. You brush it off at first, refusing to think that that's the case; especially when you're talking about someone like Jerry. You argue to yourself that this sort of thing doesn't happen to you, men like him don't go for women like you.... But apparently they do....

- Jerry continues to pay special attention to you, continues to seek you out even when he's certainly not hard up for choices; as though the other girls on your block aren't throwing themselves at him. When he leaves his house, he looks out for you amongst the sea of people, giving your other neighbors a small smile and nod of acknowledgement as he makes his way over to you, meeting you at your car or your mailbox and starting a conversation.

- He hops from topic to topic, anything to prolong your time with him, to give him an excuse to be closer to you, to touch you in some way. You leave your interactions with him flustered, your skin still tingling from where he held your wrist to look at your bracelet or brushed his fingers across your own when exchanging mail. You feel silly for it, feeling like you're too old for all of this giddiness, this school girl sort of crush that's making you weak in the knees and tying your stomach in knots.

- Not long after you meet him, he asks if you'd want to get together, smiling at you charmingly, a touch of shyness on his face as he glances to the ground and then back up at you. You quickly agree, faltering only a little when he chuckles and tells you that "the only problem" is that his house is still a mess from moving. You invite him over to yours and he promises to bring over some wine/beer, telling you he'll "see you then" as the two of you part ways.

- When he comes over to your place, he brandishes the alcohol with a smile, complimenting your appearance as you invite him inside; his smile growing just a tad bit more as he steps over the threshold of your doorway. He looks around, makes a joke about having you help him decorate his own home and follows you happily as you lead him into your living room.

- As your date progresses, you start to think that Jerry is the closest thing to a perfect man that you've ever met. It's like he was handcrafted with the extent purpose of making you fall for him: every little thing he says or does making you like him even more. It's like you've known him for forever and yet it still feels new and exciting.

- When you're ready to call it a night, you're ecstatic to hear him say that he had a great time, that he wants to see you again soon and that next time, he'll invite you over to his place.

- He does so not long after, meeting you at your car one evening and asking if you know anything about painting. When you give him your answer, he invites you to help him decide on a color for his walls, taking you with him to the store once you get a tour of his home, making a date out of picking out the perfect shades. You end up back at his place when you're done, drinking together and watching reality television as you roll different colors across the blank drywall of his home.

- The two of you share your first kiss that same night after he points out that you have some paint on your cheek. He reaches out, smoothing your hair from your face and swiping the fleck of color from your skin with a gentle touch, his hand lingering on your cheek as he stares down at you with an affectionate gaze. Before you know it, you're both leaning in and sharing a short and sweet kiss, smiling at each other happily once the two of you pull apart.

- It all feels too good to be true.... And maybe it is, because not long after, you notice Charley; Jerry's next door neighbor, staring at the two of you when you meet up for another date. You take in the way that he's looking at Jerry and then the way that he's looking at you, at the way he hesitates like he wants to say something. You turn to Jerry and asks what's up with the boy, to which he merely chuckles, telling you that it's nothing while he throws an arm around your shoulders, leading you inside and casting a dark glance towards the boy before he closes his door.

- The next morning, Charley knocks on your door. He tells you that there's something wrong with Jerry and that you should stay away from him. You question him, wanting to know exactly what he thinks is wrong with your boyfriend, not knowing Charley to be the type of kid to make stuff up. He finally admits that he thinks your boyfriend is a vampire and you laugh a little, thinking he's joking.

- He doesn't laugh with you though, instead, he takes his phone out and swipes through photos: photos of scrolls, and antiques, and suspicious belongings. You grow even more confused, asking where he's taken all these pictures and why he's showing you all of this ...until you're shut up by the sight of a painting, a painting of ...you.

"What is this Charley?" You ask, chuckling somewhat incredulously, weirded out and confused.

"It's Jerry's, it's in his house. Just see for yourself, y/n. You'll find it there and you'll see that I'm telling you the truth. Just be careful, alright? He's dangerous." You're baffled by his words, baffled by the entire encounter. Your neighbor has broken into your boyfriends house and found an antique painting of you, or, at the very least, someone who looks identical to you.

- You want to put the whole thing out of your mind, but you cant. You have to find out the truth, so late in the evening, you go to knock on your boyfriends door. You hesitate on his front step: moving to knock then chickening out then moving to knock again. Finally, you decide to just leave, decide that you can't do it, but before you can walk off his front step, the door behind you opens and Jerry asks if you're alright.

- You assure him that you are, telling him that you just wanted to see him and apologizing for bothering him as he shakes his head and smiles, inviting you in as you swallow down your nervousness.

- You try to act normal but you doubt that you're doing a good job, sitting stiffly on his couch while he fetches you a beer. He presses the cool glass to your temple when he comes back, the icy feeling making you flinch, tearing you from your thoughts as he asks if you're alright again. You want to confess everything, to purge yourself of your newfound worries, but instead, you ask to use his restroom, feigning being overheated like he seemed to think that you were; probably from the flush of your cheeks and/or the light sheen of nervous sweat on your forehead.

- You head towards the room you recognized from the photos, remembering it well considering the fact that you picked out the color that's seen on the wall behind the painting. It was a bare bedroom back then but it must be furnished now: furnished with shelves and trinkets and antiques. And a painting of you, framed in aged wood and sealed in yellowing varnish, standing tall against the wall, staring back at you like a mirror, right down to the last freckle and eyelash. It was obviously painted centuries ago, and yet you can almost remember the moment, as though that were even logical or possible.

- You turn to leave, knowing you don't have much time to pretend you're in the bathroom splashing a bit of water on your face or neck in order to cool down. But when you turn, you see that Jerry is already standing in the doorway, watching you as you stand paralyzed in the middle of the room. He tells you that he was worried you would pass out, chuckling almost bitterly, devoid of any cheerfulness.

"What is this Jerry?" You ask confused. You're not upset, not scared or hurt or anything, just confused; baffled.

"It's a long story," He tells you. "Much longer than you think."

- When you finally go to leave, you're somewhat in shock, mind swimming with everything you've just found out. Jerry watches you closely as he walks you to the door, trying in vain to read your expression, to try and see what you think of everything; what you think of the truth. You pause on his front step, turning back around and looking at his face, at the almost imperceptible signs of worry. You gently pull him down by the back of his neck and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling him grip you in return, hold you against him for a moment as you tell him goodnight.

- When you begin walking home, you happen a glance at the Brewster's house, your eyes catching sight of Charley as he stands at his window and watches you. You look away just as quickly as you looked towards him, suddenly feeling guilty; like you've betrayed the boy in some terrible way.

- But you just can't help it. You can't help the fact that you love him....

- Due to his ...affliction, it isn't often that you and Jerry are seen out in public together, so while he's an incredibly affectionate boyfriend, pda just isn't very commonplace. When it does occur, however; depending on your personality, you might just wish that it hadn't.... Jerry is well aware that it isn't appropriate for him to practically fornicate with you on his front lawn, but he simply doesn't care. He enjoys showing off and he enjoys seeing peoples scandalized reactions; especially when they're people who are suspicious of him.

- On that same note: Jerry is definitely a bit of an exhibitionist so you're gonna have to be okay with people seeing you in various compromising positions. Sometimes you'll be aware of it, sometimes you won't, but if you really aren't comfortable with it, he'll try to keep it to a minimum.

- Jerry is oftentimes a great example of raw, animalistic want. He's a very touchy, very affectionate, and very dominant kind of person, so don't be surprised when he's constantly wanting to be close to you. He'll wrap himself around you continuously, kissing your skin and nuzzling into your flesh. The two of you come together and pull apart like magnets, like your bodies are naturally drawn to each other, needing to glide against one another in order to survive. He's admittedly a little obsessed with you, but it's certainly not unwelcome.

- Temple and hairline kisses. He also occasionally kisses you right at your pulse point; though you should definitely make sure that you can trust him before you just let him do it.

- I firmly believe that the way Jerry kisses in the film is not just done to rub his success in Charley’s face, but because he’s genuinely just that kind of guy. When he kisses, he aims to devour you whole: kissing you like you're the only thing that can ever truly satiate him. His kisses are dominating, deep and rough and bruising, and they're always just so ...hungry. He'll oftentimes have to pull away before you're finished with him because he has to try to control himself; his fanged teeth and darkened eyes on full display as he keeps his shred of distance with a lustful smile.

- Getting hickeys from him is a very dangerous game but Jerry is always glad to be on the receiving end; probably even more than the alternative. They typically fade quite quickly due to his healing factor, but he simply uses that as an excuse for you to give him more, lounging around open shirted in hopes that you'll pounce, or teasing you about how they're starting to fade, urging you to do something about it.

- He has a slight obsession with touching your ass but you generally allow it because he lets you touch his in return. Ass smacks are a sign of affection in your household, but they're also a very dangerous game. Your boyfriend can get a little feral sometimes and your voluptuous backside has become his favorite victim.

- Laying your head in his lap as he cards his fingers through your hair. Jerry kind of likes using you as a weighted blanket so it's also quite common for you to lay across his chest, relaxing against him as he absentmindedly traces patterns on your back.

- Definitely has a habit of toying with your hair: absentmindedly twirling strands of it, brushing it back from your face, smoothing it down, etc. He isn't even shy about it, making it blatantly obvious that he enjoys what he's doing and that he see's nothing wrong with it. But it's also so ingrained in him that he doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes.

- He calls you "bunny" a lot: "my little bunny" or "my little mouse". But he also calls you more common things like angel, baby, babe, princess, and/or honey.

- He likes pretending to be distracted by something, only to grab you and pull you down on top of him whenever you get too close. He likes the little rush of adrenaline that courses through you, feeling your heart beat wildly in your chest and/or smelling the ounce of fear that permeates the air whenever you react to the sudden "attack". It's like micro dosing a drug to him, and it's a fun way to get his hands on you.

- He finds your scent, in general, to be incredibly intoxicating. So, if you're ever wondering why he doesn't just change you right off the bat, it's probably because he doesn't want to lose your uniquely godly scent to plain old generic vampire musk. Be prepared for him to bury his face in your hair, your neck, or your clothes because it definitely happens fairly often. Depending on the day, it either relaxes or riles him up, so you might as well make a game out of guessing which one it'll be.

- You cannot be around him when you're on your period; regardless of how much he may claim otherwise. So much of his personality is animalistic and horny: if it isn't the blood that gets him going, it's the hormones, and when he says he's fine, he's lying. He's also unapologetic about being on demon hours so you can't even successfully shame him for it. Don't trust him to contain himself. Do trust him to furiously jerk it after he catches the scent of you.

- Going for night drives.

- Convenience store runs.

- Laying in the bed of his truck or sitting up on the tailgate and watching the stars. There's a lot of big deserts where the two of you live, and they're all nice and peaceful, providing a scenic atmosphere and a clear view of the unpolluted sky.

- Watching Desperate Housewives together. Jerry finds reality television to be particularly amusing: it's like modern society; particularly the parts of it that he's not able to interact with, all wrapped up in a chaotic and entertaining bow. To some extent, it's like a scientific study, but he's also just a messy bitch himself so it all appeals to him on a very deep and personal level.

- Not having many choices when thinking of date ideas because he's only able to go out at night or in indirect sunlight. You usually go to different movies, bars, carnivals, and occasionally the odd casino or club; if you're interested in that sort of thing.

- Showering/taking relaxing baths together.

- Loves when you wear his clothes.

- He literally smells so good and nothing can convince me otherwise. He talks about your scent, but his scent makes you feel like you're ovulating: out here fully ready to start mating whenever you get a hint of his cologne.

- Getting each other special and/or matching jewelry. He's literally never seen without his, and whenever the two of you are in a fight; or even breaking up, he checks to see if you're still wearing yours; thinking of it as proof that you're still at least somewhat in love with him. He's very smug about it.

- Unapologetically steals things from his victims and gives them to you. Thankfully for you, he typically spares you from the truth and tells you that he simply bought them.

- Always keeps your favorite things on hand and in stock. He survives off of beer and apples like 90% of the time, but his fridge and pantry are full of random goods, entirely because he knows that you like them. Rest assured that if you don't drink liquor, he's got at least one Snapple or water or whatever in his cooler or fridge at any given moment: and that he thinks it's cute that you're so "feminine"/innocent. He just likes looking after you without making a big deal out of it.

- Jerry; probably, literally stalked you before the two of you started dating so try not to question it when he reveals that he knows things that you've never told him before or guesses what you're going to say before you say it. He loves you enough to listen to you tell the same stories over and over again, but just know that he's already memorized every little detail of them; and that he's probably just focusing on how cute you look instead of exactly what you're saying.

- It doesn't matter if you're all dressed up and looking drop dead gorgeous, or if you're looking like you're about to drop dead: he thinks you're adorable at any given moment, and he wants you bad. He also thinks you're especially adorable whenever you're sick, but that's neither here nor there.

- He's constantly acting like your knight in shining armor, using his inhuman speed, strength, and reflexes to make up for any sort of clumsiness that you might display while being in his presence.

- Helping him with his little projects. You know, he always claims that he needs your help, but when he says that, he always just means that he wants you to sit and look pretty while he does all the work. Although that's honestly a win-win for you.

- Jerry has centuries of experience when it comes to learning the ins and outs of appliances, so you can rest assured that he can fix literally anything that you're capable of breaking. A lot of this experience comes from wanting to get the upper hand when catching "prey", but you don't have to know that: you just have to stop worrying about everything and reap the benefits of his labor.

- Making jokes about him being an old man or a cradle robber; considering the fact that he's like 400 years old. Expect him to either raise a brow at you, smirk, or make a downright sleazy comment. *cough, cough* daddy *cough, cough*.

- You can honestly get away with so much just because he likes you; even when the two of you are technically broken up. You'll literally be trying to kill him and he'll act as though you're simply being difficult, smiling at your petrified friends as he says something along the lines of "can't live with them, can't live without them". It's partially because he finds it hot that you're a worthy opponent and that you can occasionally manage to best him: thinking of it as a reason for why he loves you so much.

- You're a victim of the sassy man apocalypse. Jerry seemed like such a masculine sort of person when the two of you first started dating, so you really didn't expect him to be as unserious or as shady as he; occasionally, is. His personality can make him seem a lot less dangerous than he actually is: especially when he's mocking and teasing and making quips at people. It makes staying mad at him or serious in a situation pretty hard since he's actively just being ...kind of a little shit. He's a comedic genius, but when it's in the middle of you convincing him not to kill someone, you tend not to appreciate it.

"I repel you with Christ our lord."

"Do you? ...Really?"

- If you have pets, be prepared for them to absolutely despise him; so much so that the two of you probably have to hang out at his place almost all the time. They simply recognize that he's a dangerous creature and distrust him from the get go, growling or hissing at him before dashing away or trying to protect you. He occasionally mocks them when you're not around; playing into the legitimate rivalry that they have going on, but once he realizes how important it is to you for them to like him, he tries to bribe them into acting nicer towards him; which ends up partially working so yay.

- He can literally lift an entire car, so expect him to treat you like you weigh nothing, regardless of your actual size; especially when he's horny....

- Speaking of: he sometimes gets legitimately feral after feeding, so don't be surprised when he returns home or finds you somewhere in town and behaves as though he needs to jump you immediately; and passionately at that. One minute you'll be cooking dinner and the next, you'll be on the counter with a tongue down your throat. ...You're truly a victim.

- Sampling his blood from time to time; though it's a dangerous game: both because it's addictive and because Jerry goes feral for blood drunk you. It becomes really hard for him to control himself so it can easily lead to him actually turning you.

- Expect your boyfriend to ask for selfies whenever you text him that you're going somewhere or doing something. He gets legitimately grumpy over the fact that he can't take selfies with you. Like he lowkey sulks a little whenever he has to politely decline someone's offer to take photos of the two of you together, or when he overhears you telling your friends that he really doesn't like pictures. He just wants to take middle aged man pics with his PYT!!

- His entire phone is full of photos of you; so is his Facebook, and everyone thinks that it's absolutely adorable, calling you so lucky to have a boyfriend who loves you enough to only have photos of you on his wall. They might be a little confused, because you'd expect someone as attractive as Jerry to post himself, but they certainly don't tell you that.

- When Jerry picks you up from work; a fairly common occurrence, you always just assume that it's because he wants to be a good boyfriend and make sure you that get home safe. And while that may be the case, he also has some ulterior and self serving motives as well. Jerry; while a loving partner, is also still a monster, so when he comes to your place of employment and charms your coworkers, he's not only being friendly, but also trying to ensure that they trust him enough to let their guards down; which is especially handy when the two of you get into a fight. He also just likes flaunting your relationship and making people jealous so....

- Jerry loves you with every fiber of his being but he simply doesn't get jealous over you. A big part of it is the fact that he takes pride in having things that other people want; takes pride in winning, and he knows that none of them have even a fraction of what he does; that the two of you are made for each other. He's a very "I know she loves me" and "how could you ever think that she'd be interested in you?" kind of person.

- Regardless, he still enjoys rubbing his relationship in other people faces and passive aggressively bragging whenever he knows that someone is interested in you; or giving them a knowing look that tells them that he's well aware of their feelings for you and that he finds them very amusing. He's a smug bastard.

- It isn't often that Jerry worries about your safety, mainly because he's an immortal demon who's capable of doing terrible things in order to take care of you. But, occasionally, he'll find himself worrying about not being able to look out for you whenever you're out in the sun. To combat this, he makes sure to take care of all of your issues during the night; or makes you convert to his nocturnal schedule. You're looking at a man who can pick off half a town in a single night just because he wants to: rest assured that he's doing the utmost when faced with someone threatening your safety, comfort, or happiness in literally any way.

- Jerry always tries to stay calm whenever you're in an argument or a fight; he doesn't like losing his temper with you or making you feel hurt in any lasting way. So while he'll occasionally be a little rude or downplay your feelings, he's typically a pretty easy person to resolve an issue with. He lets you rant when you need to and listens to you be a little ridiculous at times; even if he might make a couple of incredulous faces, so you'll usually just tire yourself out to where you're ready to apologize or listen to him explain.

- Because he can occasionally downplay your feelings, you sometimes opt to give him the silent treatment, which he tolerates for a day or two before he's coming over and demanding to talk because you're "being ridiculous and you know it". He'll knock on your door and sigh, and while his apologies might occasionally sound a little insincere; very "alright, alright, I'm sorry, okay?", he usually genuinely means them; even if it's just because he doesn't like hurting your feelings or because he didn't mean for things to come out the way they did.

- He can occasionally be a little manipulative, but that's only because he really loves you and doesn't want you leaving him whenever he scares you with his vampirism or makes you question his character. He's a cold blooded killer so you'll occasionally have some differences of opinion and morality; which is when he turns on the charm and tries to sway you towards forgiving him or otherwise not breaking up with/leaving him.

- He usually tells you that he loves you in response to hearing you say it, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't genuinely mean it. He simply tends to prove his love instead of outwardly saying it; unless he wants to reassure you that he cares for you whenever you're feeling a certain type of way.

- Jerry definitely intends on turning you sometime fairly soon, wanting to spend the rest of eternity with you and guarantee your safety. It's up to you to decide whether you're interested in that. But if you really aren't, I'd suggest getting as far away from him as possible because he's definitely not against turning you "for the greater good". One day, you'll understand why he had to do it; even if it takes a little time....

#jerry dandridge imagine #jerry dandridge headcanons #jerry dandridge imagines #jerry dandridge headcanon #fright night imagine #fright night 2011 headcanons #fright night 2011 imagines #fright night 2011 headcanon #fright night 2011 imagine

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

Text

a practically perfect pair II l.wubben-moy x reader

tooth rotting fluff because you simply can’t convince me otherwise that lotte doesn’t give off the most wholesome, sweet and loving girlfriend energy

a practically perfect pair II l.wubben-moy x reader

3.9K words

you first met lotte when you were just fifteen.

you had both been selected for the under 17's lionesses junior euros, it was your first ever junior national call up and having been one of the only girls who hadn't played with the team before, you found yourself on the outs with the group.

it wasn't to say they purposefully left you out by any means, everyone was friendly and you felt welcomed. but not having been present for other camps or tournaments, there was inside jokes and stories shared which you just couldn't relate to, which lead to you feeling isolated from most of your team mates.

you'd always been more on the quiet introverted side and with so many large bubbly personalities in the team it was easy for you to blend into the background, something you didn't mind by any means feeling quite a sense of security from not being the centre of anyone's focus.

it did however mean you weren't starting for the first match of the tournament, and found yourself sat on the bench with a substitutes bib over your jersey which was easily two sizes too big for you.

you cheered and clapped and encouraged your team mates who were on the pitch, and kept your head down and listened intently during the half time speech, taking note of anything and everything on the rare chance you might be subbed on.

you weren't, but the girls came away with a win and you couldn't have been happier for them, exchanging hugs and congratulating them sincerely.

it was on the bus ride home that you had your first real interaction with lotte, you were sat up toward the front, the louder and more boisterous of your team mates always occupied the back and as we've established, you quite liked to blend in and avoid any unnecessary attention.

which was why you jumped out of your skin in shock as a body dropped down into the empty seat beside you, despite there being dozens of unpopulated rows.

"oh gosh im sorry! i promise i didn't mean to startle you." a toothy smile and messy mop of brown hair stared back at you guiltily as you softly assured her it was fine and you were just by nature quite a jumpy person.

"i don't think we've really had the chance to talk much, do you mind if i sit here?" the girl had asked a little quieter as you shook your head and her smile widened, dumping her backpack at her feet and buckling in as the engine roared to life.

you heard a few of the other girls calling out for her to come and sit with them but she waved them off as she pulled her hair back into a bun, assuring you before you could even open your mouth that she wanted to sit with you.

"hey you've got a little something..." the brunette started, pointing down to the collar of your jersey as you frowned and looked down, only for her finger to swipe up and knock at your nose as she grinned at you cheekily for the joke.

"i know we technically already know one another's names, but im lotte." the girl beamed, holding out her hand as you grinned and shook her outstretched palm, shoving her hand away as she poked at your nose and teased you for how easily you'd fallen for her previous joke.

"so i will admit i am an absolute sucker for a mystery, and right now you have to be the biggest one here. mind helping me solve it sherlock?" lotte requested playfully, leaning back on her headrest and looking at you expectantly.

"why most certainly watson." you quipped back with a shy smile and a giggle, lottes own smile widening at your answer, admittedly a little worried that she might have overwhelmed you with how suddenly and strongly she was coming on.

the brunettes eyes twinkled with genuine curiosity toward the girl in front of her, who she had admittedly been staring after ever since she'd joined the team. but seeing how reserved you were she didn't want to scare you off, though now spurred on by her friends and team mates who were also wanting to get to know you better without freaking you out if they came at you as a pack, here she was.

and from that first playful round of twenty questions on the bus back to the hotel the two of you quickly cemented into a close duo, one rarely seen without the other by their side or trailing far behind.

your blossoming friendship with lotte and the effortless charm and charisma that oozed from the older girl meant your own confidence grew in leaps and bounds, and though it took a little more time than with lotte you grew close with a small handful of the girls from that first national camp, in a group you all fondly nicknamed the good peeps.

the first real hurdle in your tight knit bond came a few years later when lotte made the decision to move to an american college. it was the best move to further her football career in a program that you had no doubt would help her absolutely thrive.

as much as both her, lois and alessia had begged you and some of the others in the group to make that same call, you weren't as brave as them and just couldn't commit from being so far away from your home and your family and your support system for so long.

the first few months of her being gone were fine, both of you one another's go to for absolutely anything and everything, especially the swapping of stories or news about your days and lives, you both scheduled in face times and phone calls and you were even in talks of booking a trip to go and visit her during your off season, having chosen yourself to commence training at the arsenal academy.

but as time passed lotte became more settled in her new life, the face times and calls turning into occasional texts, and you began to work harder to catch the eyes of the scouts for the senior clubs, desperate to earn yourself a proper professional contract, and both of your abilities to respond to the texts within a time zone that suited one another and encouraged and fostered an actual meaningful conversation lessened.

and at neither of your own faults, gradually the contact between the two of you dropped off entirely, the only communications a thoughtful but generic message for a holiday or a birthday, and before either of you could blink three years had passed and you'd finally signed your first professional contract with the arsenal women's senior team, and lotte was nearing the commencement of her final year of college.

unbeknownst to both of you the other would occasionally pop into dreams or thoughts, and lottes fingers would hover over your contact, wondering how you were doing and longing to hear the sound of your melodious laugh, but then someone would interrupt and require her attention and her phone would be hastily slid back into her pocket, the thought lost as she busied herself with study, football or social commitments.

you also occasionally found yourself scrolling through lottes social media, smiling proudly at her accomplishments and wondering what life would have been like if you'd followed along beside them, and your finger would hover over the direct message icon, but then you'd glance at the time and realise if you didn't leave now you'd be late for training or the bus to the match and the thought would be lost, promptly filed right into the back of your mind.

everything changed again the day that you found out lotte had been offered a professional contact with arsenal, and was due to start pre season training with the team in just a few days now her signing had been officially announced.

you had of course seen both lotte and alessia's decision to leave UNC early and return to england due to the ever increasing lockdown restrictions, and you'd commented a few sympathetic red hearts on both posts but hadn't interacted much more than that.

so you found your stomach tied up with knots as you sat lacing up your boots for the first training session of the pre-season, unsure if you were excited or dreading seeing the girl who you'd once considered basically an extra limb given how tightly you were attached to one another at all times.

you heard her voice before you saw her, the girl embracing a few of the older girls who she knew through the national teams, her confident laugh echoing across the locker room as the head trainer blew his whistle and everyone hurried out to the pitch.

of course that meant that the two of you were now left alone, stood up and staring one another down from across the room.

she'd gotten taller since you last saw her, always having had a few inches over you but now she'd evidently grown effortlessly into the long limbs you used to tease her for tripping over like a clumsy baby deer.

the baby fat from her face had also gone, her jawline now sharp and clearly defined. but her eyes, her eyes still remained the same twinkling cheeky orbs you grew up with, and as the corners of her mouth tugged up into a soft smile, you realised that was yet another feature which remain unchanged.

lottes own mind was also in overdrive taking you in in person for the first time in almost a few years. you'd also had a little growth spurt and had grown into your ears, ears which lotte had often tugged on and teased you for as they'd stuck out from your hair. your dimples remained the same in both corners of your mouth, your button nose scrunching up slightly as you returned her smile, as did the galaxy of freckles which dotted along the curvature of your nose, though your hair was a lot lighter and your skin a bit more tanned than she remembered.

but overall, you were both still just you.

the gap rapidly closed between you you'd embraced one another in a tight hug, exhaling deeply at the familiar warmth which filled both your stomachs at one another's touch. whispering soft i missed you's and the murmurings of gentle apologies for the distance which had fallen between the both of you.

however wordlessly you both knew you felt the same, that despite that distance which had grown, in the current moment where you stood wrapped up in one another's tight embrace, it felt just like old times, and as if nothing had ever really changed.

it took half a year of lingering hugs that lead to butterflies in stomachs, hearts racing from the seemingly harmless but intimate tracings of one another's skin as you lay together in hotel beds on away matches chatting about nothing and everything, before you and lotte both realised that maybe something had changed between the two of you during your time apart.

which was that you had both accidentally but hopelessly fallen head over heels for one another, though neither of you had quite realised this yet yourselves despite almost everyone around you catching on immediately.

it was the longing glances that you both hoped the other would never notice, the way you would both curl up together on the bus home from matches, tired and aching limbs intertwined as you took turns listening to playlists you'd both curated for one another, chatting away amicably about whatever tv show you were both hooked on.

eventually, not to say it was without a loving but firm push from your friends and team mates, these growing feelings of affection for one another were finally confessed aloud in the comfort and privacy of your shared east london flat. this was then followed shortly by an incredibly forced and awkward first date, the two of you deciding right in that moment that you knew one another far too well to need to put yourselves through that agonising first stage of dating.

and from then on the rest seemed to blur into a slideshow of your shared life and memories together, one you both made sure stayed as private as you wanted without the pressure of it being entirely hidden.

it was how you found yourself hand in hand with the taller brunette, the two of you wandering slowly down the beach in the sunshine coast of australia, toes shoved into the soft sand of the foreign country.

both of you selected for your national teams World Cup squad you as a couple were overcome with joy and pride that it was an adventure you would get to experience right by one another's side.

"g! delete those, give the poor girls their privacy they've clearly gone off by themselves for a reason." keira shoved at her best friends shoulder as georgia snapped a series of photos of the two of you without your knowledge.

"what! its not like I'm gonna post them anywhere im just capturing the moment keira, ill send them the pictures and they can do as they please with them." the blonde rolled her eyes and placed the camera back around her neck, turning to watch the glorious sunset which was evolving before their very eyes, sending the sky a dizzying array of coral pinks and bright pops of daisy yellow and burnt orange.

"are we discussing mrs and mrs wubben-moy's impending wedding then!" ella appeared with a joking grin, dropping down on the soft sand in front of the pair, alessia not far behind as keira chuckled at her words.

you both of course were not engaged however it was a running joke within the team that it was an unnecessary step due to the fact you both behaved practically like an old married couple.

"ive never met two people so practically perfect for one another, it's both really really lovely and really really disgusting." lucy piped up from the other side of georgia as the rest of the girls hummed in agreement, exchanging soft smiles as unbeknownst to you and your girlfriend they watched on fondly.

"hey!" lotte shouted with a gasp as you broke away from her, dropping her hand and playfully kicking water toward the older girl, dousing her legs and shorts with tiny droplets. "oh I'm so sorry love I tripped!" you gasped with an innocent smile, rapidly stepping backwards away from her as she advanced toward you with an amused shake of her head.

"lots no it was one small splash, please!" you begged as she quickly caught you, long arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off your feet as you kicked and tried to pull away from her, the defender repeatedly threatening to drop you as she slowly waded deeper and deeper into the calm patch of sea.

"you do that and you'll be single before the kick off of this tournament wubben-moy!" you warned seriously as she faked dropping you, tightening her hold and jogging back into the shallower water, placing you back down on your feet on the sand with a cheeky grin as you smacked at her chest.

"not the last name!" the brunette feigned a grimace of pain as she clutched at her heart and you rolled your eyes at her dramatic antics, a smile unable to be stopped gradually spreading across your face. "honestly babe you could quit football for acting." you clapped sarcastically as the two of you turned around and began the slow walk back toward the rest of your friends.

"now that's much better." lotte smiled, hands placing themselves on your cheeks and dipping her head to press her lips to your own, the sweet moment broken up by wolf whistles and jeers echoing across the beach from your friends.

ella and alessia making kissy faces at the both of you your cheeks flushed pink and you buried your face in your girlfriends neck, feeling her body vibrating with quiet laughter at the teasing, her hand comfortingly rubbing at your back as you both embraced one another tenderly for a moment before breaking apart and returning to the group, all of you heading back toward the hotel for dinner.

you were laid down on the bed of your hotel room not quite asleep but eyes closed and belly full from a delicious feed, spirits high from an evening filled with the buzzing excitement radiating off your friends and team mates to finally be here in australia.

after dinner both you and lotte had spent some time bonding with the team before quietly slipping out of the games room, alessia and ellie having to sit on top of ella to stop her racing after you as soon as she noticed your absence, the stubbornly hotheaded midfielder wanting to demand a rematch of table tennis after you'd beaten her several times throughout the night.

the two of you the same age she was also one of the girls you'd grown up closest to, especially after the others had departed for america and she too had chosen to stay behind

though things between the two of you were quiet, silence had never been something uncomfortable for either of you. even just as friends in your youth you forever felt safe, loved and heard when around lotte as she did around you. and though of course over the years you had the occasional squabble over something, you prided yourselves on being able to communicate diplomatically and honestly to solve the root of whatever problem had surfaced.

"hello." you mumbled out tiredly feeling the bed dip beside you as lotte laid down, sketchbook left open on the other bed as she just took a second to take you in, eyes scanning your sleepy features adoringly before she pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, you humming appreciatively at the sweet gesture.

you felt the older girl sit back up, your body tensing a little at the temperature shift as she gently lifted up the back of your top, a single finger tracing gently down the line of your spine.

"my love may i please draw on your back?"

the request nothing new to you you simply made a noise of agreement, pushing your body up a little so lotte could properly tug your top so it sat hunched around your neck and you slumped back into the mattress, moving your arms to tuck securely under your head.

you felt lotte leave and heard her rummaging through her luggage for the correct supplies, eyes fluttering closed again as you exhaled deeply, nose twitching a few times as you did.

you heard the bed squeak slightly as lotte hopped back onto it, murmuring a quiet apology as she shuffled up the mattress toward your practically topless form and carefully settled her knees to rest either side of your hips.

"you can sit down baby it's fine." you breathed out, feeling how she was purposefully kneeling her body to hover just above yours, a hum returned in response before her weight actually settled down properly across the back of your thighs.

you tensed a little as you felt the first foreign touch of the marker on the exposed skin of your back, a gentle kiss placed behind your ear in apology as over time your body adjusted and the tension disappeared from your shoulders.

lotte humming something quietly to herself as she drew, the sound somehow only made you more tired, and before you knew it you'd peacefully dozed off. the older girl on top of you smiled at the action, heart melting at the relaxed expression on your face and the way your eyebrows would knit together every now and then, a silent way to confirm you were off deep in a dream somewhere, one which she hoped was nothing but pleasant for you.

around an hour and a half later she'd finished, shuffling herself back a little and laying down on top of you, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear and pressing feather light kisses to the back of your neck. you felt warm hands gently caressing your sides as you awoke, blinking slowly to zone back in and stretching a little underneath her, your girlfriend uttering a teasing good morning into your ear as you turned your head and mumbled that you'd like her to kiss you properly now.

with a soft smile and a chuckle lotte manoeuvred her body off of yours, hands grabbing at your hips protectively to steady you as you sat up and stretched again almost falling off of the bed as you did so, your top coming back down to cover your previously exposed torso as you did.

"what time is it?" you asked rubbing at your eyes and shuffling closer to the taller girl, pressing your face into her shoulder as arms wrapped tightly around you, her hand once again coming to rub comfortingly at your back as she muttered an answer into your hair.

"can I see?" you pulled away from her and gestured to your back, much more awake now as lottes eyes lit up and she nodded, quick to slide off the bed and offer you a hand up. fingers interlocking the taller girl practically dragged you into the bathroom, standing you in front of the mirror and tapping gently at your ribs, signalling for you to take your top off.

"oh wow..." you trailed off wordlessly as you twisted around and gazed down with wide eyes at the intricate pattern adorning your tanned skin. "it's beautiful, you're so incredibly talented it never ceases to amaze me, you never cease to amaze me." you spoke softly, eyes locked through the mirror with the taller girl stood behind you whose cheeks blushed a little with colour at the sincere compliment.

"you're so beautiful, my beautiful girl." lotte murmured in response, hugging you tightly from behind and burying her face in your neck, eliciting a small chime of laughter from you as a few loose strands of her hair tickled at your nose.

"don't tell me you've gone shy." you teased gently, the older girl pulling her head out of your neck and glaring at you playfully, craning her head around to steal a few sweet kisses before you turned in her hold, the two of you wrapping one another up in yet another tight hug, bound so close together each could feel the others heartbeat.

and though the comments from your friend were meant teasingly, lucy had been right.

together the two of you really were a practically perfect pair.

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #engwnt #woso blurbs #fic recs #lotte wubben moy #lotte wubben moy x reader

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simplyholl · 2 years ago

Text

Out of My System Pt. 1

Summary: Loki doesn’t understand Thor’s attraction to Midgardians. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F. Avenger Reader

Warnings: Eventual smut.

W/C: 1K

See my Masterlist here

You were sitting beside Loki just like you did every movie night, a large bowl of popcorn perched in his lap for sharing. You jumped and screamed so loud, when the monster grabbed the woman on the screen that it even startled Loki, who almost dropped the snack in the floor.

You reached for his hand, entwining your fingers with his long skinny digits. He stayed still for just a moment unsure of how to react to your touch. You felt him relax against you, accepting the affection. Each time, a scary part came on you would hide your face against his arm. He began to anticipate it. He wrapped his arm around you snuggling you closer. Now you could press your face against his broad chest.

You laid your ear against him, listening to the rhythmic sound of his heart beating. You had only been this close to the mischievous god while training. Otherwise, your friendship never crossed any unspoken boundaries. You were surprised how he had welcomed your touch. He wasn’t huge on affection, shying away from hugs, shoulder pats, even handshakes which surprised you. He only shook the hand of business men Stark needed him to schmooze, and only when necessary.

The movie was over too soon. The loss of warmth his body provided made you shiver as you walked to your room. Hurrying to your bed, your mind ran wild with thoughts of the creature from that horrible movie waiting for you underneath, grabbing your feet as you walked by and dragging you under there with it. You got under the blankets covering up every inch of skin. You were an Avenger for crying out loud. You had fought villains way scarier than the monster in the movie.

Still you couldn’t help the thoughts of it waiting to get you as soon as you peaked out from under the blanket. You heard the floor creak and you swear you stopped breathing for a second. Relax! It’s probably somebody walking in the hall. You squeeze your eyes shut willing yourself to fall asleep.

You convince yourself you feel someone staring at you. You give yourself a little pep talk slinging the heavy blanket off your face and retrieving your phone off your nightstand. You get back in your cocoon. You pull up the contact on your phone praying he answers.

“H..hello?” his groggy voice comes over the line and you’ve never been more grateful to hear anyone. “Loki, I need you to come to my room right now.” your voice barely comes out as a whisper. You are trying to stay quite just in case that creature can hear you.

“Darling, it’s three in the morning. I can barely hear you. This is not a good prank.” Click. He ended the call before you could ask for help. You dial his number again. He answers on the third ring. You decide you better make this call count so you start frantically yelling into your phone. “Loki, please don’t hang up! I know it’s three AM, but it’s the witching hour! That means this thing is gonna be that much stronger!! I need you to get in here right now before it kills me!”

You hear your door fling open. You stick your head out from your fortress. Loki is standing in your room, daggers in hand assessing the situation. “Where is it?” he growls. You can’t help the giggles erupting. He looks at you, confusion clearly eating him up.

“Promise you won’t be mad?” “I will make no such promise. Tell me what is so funny about your life being in danger.” You take a deep breath trying to suppress your laughter. “I kept thinking about that movie and I freaked myself out. I convinced myself it was in here with me. So there’s no real danger.”

Loki sighs heavily, running his hands through his slept on curls. He sets his daggers on your nightstand. “You said it was going to kill you.” “Sorry, I was being dramatic. I just didn’t want to be alone because I was scared. I didn’t expect you to burst in here like that. But since you’re here, do you mind staying with me? I know I’m safe with you here.” Loki agrees walking toward your couch.

“Can you sleep in the bed with me, please? I really freaked myself out and I just need to know that you’re right here if I need you.” He gets in beside you, and every fear fades into the darkness as you press your back against his chest. His arm rests against your stomach.

Loki planned to leave right after you fell asleep. He was sure he wouldn’t rest well, if at all. So he was surprised when the sun light peaked through your window and woke him the next morning. He was shocked to find your warm body still snuggled in so closely to his. He had only wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. He didn’t think he would be so reluctant to remove them.

He took the time to study your features. How your hair was a tangled mess even though it seemed like you hadn’t moved at all through the night. How the sun light made your face look almost angelic. He took note of how comfortable he was beside you. And that terrified him. That thought alone was enough motivation for him to go back to his own rooms.

Loki was sure he would never share Thor’s love for Midgardians. He didn’t understand his attraction to them. After Thor and Jane broke up, Thor had successfully seduced every woman he came across. It made Loki sick. He and his brother were gods. Midgardians were beneath them.

Loki waited until their trips to Asgard to sleep around. Those so called models paled in comparison to the goddesses back home. He had never thought highly of any person from Earth, until you.

You stumbled into his life and turned it upside down. You weren’t repulsive. You were beautiful. You weren’t ignorant, but intelligent. You were kind to him, when the rest of the pathetic planet either feared him or hated him. Loki had quickly offered you something he didn’t give lightly to any other person on Earth - his companionship.

Part Two

Tags (as always if you want to be added or removed let me know!)

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @sheris532 @multifandom-worlds @lokixryss @javagirl328 @assemblingavenger @lilibet261 @lemonadygirl @joyofbebbanburg

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki #loki x yn #loki x yn smut #loki x y/n #loki fanfction #loki fanfic #loki marvel #loki x you #mcu loki #loki friggason #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #out of my system

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