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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Text

✍️ Dear Diary ✍️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Hi thereee! I was thinking about a request since I saw they’re open again… I was thinking maybe Con-non con breeding/cream pie?🤭 maybe somnophilia too. S get home en R is sleeping and he just take what he wants but it’s obviously something mutual.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Dubcon/ CNC, somnophilia, breeding, pet play (kitten/owner), daddy kink, unprotected sex, almost one bed trope, oral (m recieving), Perv!Spencer, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader and just incredibly horny Reader and Spencer.

Summary: Spencer comes across your dream journal and finds out that you're not plagued with nightmares but with wet dreams. And they're all about him.

A/N: Thank you to @reidmotif, who basically told me the entire concept of this fic was forcing Spencer to read smut headcannons about himself and watching the reactions. I think this is the quickest I've ever written something from start to finish 💀

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Spencer didn't know what possessed him to read through your diary, but he couldn't stop when he started. At a single glance, he could tell it wasn't the book that he was looking for, the one you'd sent him to find in your bedroom, the one you'd recommended he read.

That one was beside it on the side table, but there was something about the black moleskin, laid perfectly flat on the desk, that had his fingers itching as he moved it forward.

You were otherwise occupied with setting out the plates of takeaway you'd ordered for the six people currently sat in your living room, so knowing his company wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, he sat himself down and began reading.

Within ten pages, he completely regretted it.

He'd sussed out by the title page that this wasn't just a normal journal but a dream journal. It was heavily recommended in a lot of the mandated therapy sessions you guys did. Hell, even Hotch had suggested it to him a few times, so he shouldn't be surprised you kept one.

He was just surprised at the content of your dreams.

He knew his own were dark and painful, and he was curious, thinking that knowing your dreams could help him assist you better through whatever was plaguing you recently.

In ten pages, he'd managed to suss out that it was him that was plaguing you.

“May 8th - Woke up hot again. Dreamt of Spencer waking me up with his tongue. Need to get this out of my system.”

“May 10th - On my back tied to the bed. Spencer again. I'm going to hell.”

“May 22nd - Kitten ears. And Spencer's cum splashing on my face as a wake up call. I'm a freak!”

Each entry was similar, and he read on page after page, until he felt his cock stiffening and he had to put the book down and remind himself that there was company just a few doors away. Company that included his friends and a woman who'd been dreaming of fucking him every night for… three months now.

He took a deep breath. He took a lot of deep breaths, forcing himself to think of the most unappealing things ever as he calmed himself down.

A voice down the hall called his name, and he dropped the journal like a scalding pot and picked up the other book, opening it to a random page and trying to look convincingly entranced.

“Spencer, what-?” You asked, seeing him sat on your bed reading the book. He thanked the heavens that the book was a hardback and just big enough to hide the remaining stiffness in his pants while he tried to will it to deflate.

“Oh, good book, right? I should've known you'd start reading it straight away. Just take it home, Spencer.”

“No, no, it's okay, I don't need-”

“No, it's fine. You can give it back at the Stanford Review Psychology Seminar next weekend. We're rooming still, right?”

He took in what felt like a gulp of air, forcing the oxygen down into his lungs as his tongue laid as useless in his mouth as his cock felt in his pants.

“Right.” He managed to get out as you told him to haul his ass back to the living area.

He took up your journal again, though, and for the next few minutes, committed your diary to memory and left the room.

“Spencer, come on, kid, what book is as interesting as Wrestlemania?” Morgan said, clapping him on the back as he ripped through a slice of pizza.

One where the author said she'd woken up mid-orgasm just imagining he'd tied her down. And him specifically.

“Leave the kid alone, you know he's prone to his little fantasies,” Rossi chimed in as well, passing Spencer a beer quickly and cracking one open for himself.

Not the most prone person in the room to fantasies, of course, but possibly the second most prone.

“Shut up and watch the game, you're making him squirm,” you said from your perch behind his seat on the couch, giving him a quick pat on the shoulders, your fingers lingering just too long.

And with the word squirm went his whole concentration as he started imagining your small mews and purrs of pleasure, your sleepy face dazed as his fingers roughly curled into your cunt. You'd squirm for him, and you'd do a whole lot more than that.

The rest of the night tortured him the same way, though thankfully he'd managed to find a pillow to cover up his small - though growing ever harder - issue. At last, he was the last one left in your apartment, the others letting themselves out after you'd crashed on your own sofa just inches from him.

To be fair, they'd pulled off the herculean task of cleaning up after themselves without waking you, despite your notoriety for sleeping light.

He'd waved off the others and said he'd get you back into bed, protests quickly falling on deaf ears. Yes, Morgan may have been the better choice to carry your dead-tired weight, but he was also five beers in and just as likely to slam you into the bed a la whatever wrestlers Spencer had been ignoring on the screen all night.

He'd gotten himself mostly under control anyway, so he'd been able to rush them out of the door, drunk or senile, and managed to turn himself back to you.

You were curled up in a little ball, like a cat who'd found the perfect cardboard box to sit in. You filled the space and looked comfortable, but he knew you'd be sore in the morning. Either that, or your words had driven him to the brink of insanity and he just wanted his hands on you for once.

He didn't bother trying to fully lift you, knowing you'd definitely freak out and wake up if he tried.

Instead, he started talking to you in your sleep.

“Y/N… let's go to bed,” he whispered, pulling your arms limply around his neck as he tugged you upwards with two hands firmly on your hips until you were standing.

You let out a small whimper of protest, head falling forward to nuzzle into his chest as he started slowly walking you back to your bed. It was a technique he'd used on you more than once, getting you to comply when half asleep on multiple occasions to assist you when drunk or exhausted or both.

With the revelations of your diary, he thought about talking you into even more in your sleepy state but resisted.

“Spencer…” you mumbled, gripping him loosely and pressing kisses against his shirt and chest, lazily.

He had to remind himself you were still asleep, even if you were moving and talking. Asleep, even if you had wanted him to wake you up with a cock in your cunt. Asleep, and not his girlfriend, or lover, or anything more than coworker, as his cock hardened and the backs of your knees finally hit the side of your bed.

You half collapsed onto it, and we're half lowered gently by Spencer, though in all his uncoordination, he couldn't stop himself from falling directly on top of you.

“Yes, Spencer…” you sighed, hands brushing up and down his chest above you as he froze solid.

He was screwed. He'd read every word of that diary. He could imagine exactly what it was you were dreaming of at that moment, and he needed to extricate himself before he did something he'd hate himself for.

His hand snaked up your waist, just brushing your nipple as he finally dropped it to the bed and pushed himself up. He couldn't touch you anymore without consequences, and while those consequences sounded truly…delightful, he resisted.

Tucking you into bed, drowning out the sounds of your faint purrs and moans, he rubbed his cock through his pants to ease some of the ache. He denied himself more, grabbing your recommended book from the side table, leaving the infernal journal and closing the door on quite possibly one of the most arousing experiences of his life.

He was screwed.

A week passed and left him in his state of screwedness. You may have dreamed of him taking you like that, almost against your will, but he dreamed of you begging him to do so.

He awoke stiff every day and refused to touch himself, to acknowledge the disgusting pleasure he was getting from his imagination.

A week full of cold showers and blue balls, and what did it end with except being back in close quarters with your horny ass.

Screwed supreme.

You noticed he was acting off very quickly, and you'd commented on it the morning of conference day one, knocking him back slightly with each step towards him you took.

“Spencer, are you sick?” You said, stepping closer, raising a hand as if to test his temperature.

“No, no, I just... germaphobic, remember?" he smiled, gently brushing your hand away. He also took another step away from you to stop him from balling his hands into your sides and pushing you down to the floor to have his way with you.

“That hasn't bothered you before. You literally said last week that we're in the same places so often that we've been exposed to the same bacteria and have likely formed an immuno-connection or whatever-”

“There's just-” he said, now taking another step further away from you, hands up in a surrendering pose to halt your approach. “A lot of people at this conference. It's making me a bit uncomfortable.”

You seemed to understand that, backing off. And thankfully, just in time, because a second later and his hands would've been tangled in your hair, forcing you to your knees so he could show you just how compromised he could get you.

You'd dreamt about something similar on March 25th. And April 3rd.

It wasn't just his own lust for you fogging his mind - he'd dealt with that before, his hand a friendly nighttime companion - but compounded with your own, it was unbearable.

He looked at you and all he saw was “March 2nd - Begged Spencer to cum inside me, and fill his little kitten as much as he could. Could I convince him to fo that for real?”

For fucking real.

He felt infinitely more respect for your skills at your job now, knowing that he couldn't go a week without genuinely flinching away from your touch feeling this goddamn pent up, and you'd lasted three months and counting without so much as batting an eye.

After wandering through the conference all day, listening to the keynote speakers and giving a speech of his own, he'd grown exhausted. He was tired of avoiding you, but it had to be done. The thing he feared the most was breaking and becoming one of the monsters he'd dedicated his life to catching. The thing he feared most was you.

You'd hugged him when he completed his speech, lingering still after pulling away, so he was still aware of every inch and curve of you.

“I'm so proud of you,” you said with a smile, straightening his tie. You wouldn't be proud of him if you knew what he wanted to do with that tie. He imagined, even in a crowd of people, pulling you back by your hair - March 31st - and gagging you with the scrap of material - April 17th.

After almost doing just that, he quickly excused himself, and 12 miscalls and 27 text messages later, you'd finally given him what he wanted - “I'm going to sleep now. We need to talk in the morning.”

He finally crept back to the room you were sharing from a restaurant below. He'd thought about numbing his senses with alcohol but decided against it, not willing to take the risk that he'd numb his inhibitions at the same time.

It wouldn't be the first time alcohol had made him get handsy with you, scowling as he remembered his hands trailing all over you during karaoke at the Delfino, his hands gripping tighter as the night stretched out longer. You'd both been trying to sing Billy Joel, and then he'd been trying to keep hold of you no matter how much you'd giggled and fidgeted.

Looking back now, he was sure it was only the presence of every single one of your coworkers and half the FBI that stopped him from covering you in kisses, from pushing his hand up your shirt and playing with you.

Alone in your hotel room, there was nowhere else.

Sure enough, though, there was another bed, which he happily threw himself on when he entered, knowing he'd claimed the one closest to the door.

He sat for a minute, then two, then three, and just knowing you were close had his brain begging to repeat everything it had learnt in your diary.

“March 1st - I think I had a sex dream about Spencer. I think I really enjoyed it. I think I should avoid him today”

“March 18th - Used my vibratory before bed and still woke up needy. What would Spencer's cock feel like buried inside of me?”

“April 14th - He took me over a desk in the bullpen while continuing his conversation with Hotch. I almost cried, waking up and finding out it wasn't real.”

“June 4th - Spencer is coming over tonight, and I spent the whole day masturbating to memories of my own dreams about him…. I'm definitely going to hell.”

It was as he repeated each of these entries in his head like a mantra that the bed shifted and he felt something next to him.

Whatever bed he'd thrown himself into, you had decided to occupy as well. He felt your ass first, wiggling up against his crotch as you snuggled into whatever warmth he was offering beside you.

The content sigh that left your lips was the final straw as Spencer's nerves frayed and his already throbbing cock begged for relief.

His hands held your hips still as he unthinkingly began to rut into you, rubbing his cock against your ass in any way that would find release.

He tried to stop himself, but you were mid-dream now, and you were making those noises again.

Tiny little pants, mewls of pleasure, his name. Jesus Christ, his name.

He pushed down his boxers as you threw your head back, landing at the crook of his neck, your breath fanning over his skin as you turned over.

Instead of rutting against your ass, he could now hitch your legs across his thighs and at least get close enough to where he wanted to be, buried in your wet, aching pussy.

He didn't let himself. Biting his lip, he moved his hands from your hips to his cock, and began a slow, painful attempt at jacking off.

It should've been easy with you in front of him. He should've already exploded on his hand, especially after more than a week of nothing.

But you were in arms reach and it was as if his entire body was on strike until he sank into you.

In the end, it was your movements that led him to crack, just like it had been your words in the first place that had moved him to such desperation.

Shifting uncomfortably again in your sleep, you'd managed to push your leg over his lap and roll on top of him, all while unconscious.

And then you started moving. Like really fucking moving, like dry humping. Spencer's brain disappeared as he tugged at your clothing to figure out how to remove as much as needed removing.

Luckily, all he had to do was shift your panties to the side and make sure he didn't get tangled in the rest of your night dress, and, thoughtlessly, he was plunging into your depths.

He thought it would be that first thrust that would wake him, and though he had his suspicions, he was right. You didn't move. If anything you were quieter now with his cock filling you than you had been dry humping it not a minute earlier.

You were awake, he knew. You were awake, and you were pretending to sleep. His cock throbbed inside you at the thought and he knew he needed more.

“March 19th, I dreamed that Spencer woke me up with some cream for his kitten. I called him Daddy. God, I wish it were real,” he whispered in your ear as you continued your facade, quoting your diary back at you as he flipped you over.

He was gentle still, allowing you to maintain the illusion of sleep even as your heart beat out of your chest and a moan threatened to burst out of your mouth.

Softly, his hips retreated from over yours, his thick cock withdrawing from your heat before slamming back in.

“April 12th - Daddy let his good little kitten drink up her spilt milk from the floor. I licked his cum up with my tongue as he fucked me from behind. I'm perverse.”

Your breathing was way harder to control now, as his hips swayed into yours repeatedly, his real cock stretching further than you'd ever imagined his dream one reaching. You'd never been a good visualiser.

“Wake up, Y/N,” he said, kissing your neck and replacing his lips with a firm hand at your windpipe.

“Wake up and talk to me. We're supposed to be talking about earlier, right? You're supposed to be mad at me, but instead, you're close to cumming on my big fat cock.”

You screwed your eyes up tighter as he lifted his head and let his tongue silence the first moan that you let.slip through. He'd won.

His to guess clashed with yours as you tried to control his pace from under him, tugging your hips up, begging for more of his dick to enter you.

Sure, you were awake, but to you, this was just another dream, and he wasn't going to let you escape him this time.

“That's it, that's.my little girl, milk my cock,” he murmured, even as he grabbed your hips again and started setting the pace once again. It was his fingers stabbing into the gate of your hips and stomach that had you finally fully waking up and realizing that this was real, that Spencer had fucked you awake.

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, chest jumping with each jack hammer, his head buried between them, picking and sucking like some ravenous beast devouring prey.

“Daddy,” he corrected, sucking one nipple that had popped out of the top of your night dress into his mouth and biting down.

You arched into the touch, and he didn't let you move away, hands instantly gripping you tighter as you squirmed and fought in his grip. He held tighter still as his dick entered you, again and again.

Like you were falling asleep again, your brain cleared until there was only him, hic cock, his tongue on your chest, his hands on your ass keeping you in place.

“May 16th - Last night, Spencer was my owner, and he raped me in the middle of the night. He pushed his fat cock into me and I howled in pleasure, stating exactly where he put me until he released his load into me.”

The words were your own, but you couldn't feel any shame heading them, knowing the reenactment felt just as good as you'd hoped it would subconsciously.

“Y/N, focus on me. Focus on milking my cock like s good little kitten, come on Y/N,” he said, thrusting into you with no qualms now.

He'd given in, and he'd given in quickly, but if this was the reward, then he was never holding back again.

“Spencer-” you shuddered out as your orgasm broke through you, his panting writhing form finally pushing you back down into the bed as he continued tutting into you until he, too, could no longer hold back.

With a painful groan, he came and pulled out of you in an instant, letting his cum leak out of you as he watched.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up, tugging at your hair until you were both on your knees, then pushing you down until your face was level with his softening cock.

“Clean up your spilt milk, kitten,” he panted, and you complied happily, licking up every drop that had splashed against his cock and stomach and thighs.

His moans were musical, whimpers and pouts and sinful curses as he held up your hair and tried not to fuck your mouth, enjoying the sensations of your exploring g tongue too much for that.

When he'd thought you'd done enough, he tugged you up again, wrapping his hands around your body firmly and pulling you in for one more kiss.

“Next time,” he said, pulling away and panting to catch his breath. “Next time- you have- a dream- just- tell me.”

You nodded and tried to chase his lips, but he pulled you back down to the bed before you made it eliciting a small whimper of frustration.

“You're sleeping in my bed,” he observed, stroking your head as he held you close.

“You were avoiding me.”

“I was avoiding you because I've been walking around with a boner for a week, and I didn't want to jump you in a conference room filled with 300 people.”

“You read my diary,” you said, pouting.

“You let me read your diary. It was wide open on the desk, and you sent me into that room alone, knowing my eyes move quicker than my conscience does.”

You hummed, smiling in reply but didn't answer the accusations.

“I wonder what my wake up call in the morning will be like,” you smiled, shutting your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep, his chest pillowing your head and his arms closed tight around your waist.

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teaeodora · 12 days ago

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"IN THIS HOUSE, THE WIFE REIGNS SUPREME! "

a/n: am i back? or perhaps this is a mere illusion..

synopsis: when faced with their wife's wrath, even the mightiest men of the land are forced to comply.

contents: small anecdotes, maybe ooc diluc because once again I am bad at writing him??? implied!female, whipped men (why not?) loser coded cuties scared of their wifes, mentions of pregnancy (wriothesley), swearing (mild), fluff, i blanked out mid way writing this but it is what it is and i find it cute, self indulgent.

not proof read.

DILUC !

Master Diluc was always in control. After all he ran the biggest winery in the entirety of Tevyat. Ledgers, Budgets, Circulation of goods, transactions, loans — this man could do it all.

On paper, he was the perfect husband. He was secure in himself, didn't take anyone's incompetence and preferred a quiet life with you. What more can a man desire?

However, as the saying goes - nothing is perfect. So having Kaeya, his stepbrother's continuous coercion into drinking was the imperfect part of his life. It was ironic really, being the owner of a winery, he held a distaste for alcohol and preferred grape juice.

Yet today he sat in his own tavern, one glass down. How had he come to this? How did he magically end up with one whole glass of wine in his system, coursing through his veins? He had no recollection.

He half heartedly listened to Kaeya and Rosaria's conversation when his ears caught another conversation. Two customers talked about having "wife" troubles and how they regret marrying so suddenly.

It was almost as if his tongue had gained consciousness of its own and the word fell out of Diluc's mouth, "As a man, if you only love one woman and then married her immediately—"

"Master Diluc" Kaeya tried. TRIED to stop this man.*

"...then you're truly foolish," Diluc finished. The silence that came next was merely the calm before the storm.

"Is that so?" the voice spoke up from behind. If anyone held the world record of sobering up in a matter of seconds- it would be Diluc Ragvinder right now.

"So..are you clever..or foolish for loving and cherishing me?" You leaned in, eyes radiating the clear sign— one wrong move and the celebrated Dark Knight Hero would be straight into his grave.

Diluc blinked once, twice- before stammering out in a fit of panic "uh..uh yes..yes ofcourse, I am foolish," he quickly admitted.

That may have saved him for the couch tonight but Kaeya was certainly not going to let him live this down.

ALHAITHAM !

Alhaitham never hid the fact that he disliked being the Acting Grand Sage. The only positive part of the circumstance was that he had access to all the documents and he could analyse them all he wanted and leverage them to his favour in the future. If needed.

Thing was, now he had to oversee twice as many workers of the Akademiya and it was twice as grating at his nerves. He'd rather be rejecting applications into the Akademiya for his own amusement than be a leader. He was clear with he wanted — peace, quiet and stable income. Rest? He didn't care enough or purposefully tuned it out.

He was been a slight hardass to the employees, critiquing their work, pointing out alignment issues on documentation, muttering something on the lines of a 12 slab long relic being easier to decipher than this utterly mind numbimg report submitted by one of the freshers. He couldn't take it and reallocated the guy to some other department.

Now the others were worried of meeting the same fate. So desperate times called for desperate measures. You.

Alhaitham sat that day in his office, feeling uneasy. Why did it feel like something bad was going to happen?

Click. Click. Click.

Oh, he'd recognised that sound anywhere.

"I have heard that you are being a hard ass...to the employees..." you stood near his desk, foot tapping in a rhythmic motion, screaming "You better have a logical explanation"

Alhaitham gulped. Gulped. His adam's apple bobbing up and down in subtle apprehension. "Look, it is just that their work isn't upto the mark—"

"Then instruct them instead of firing people and causing terror."

Alhaitham was the Acting Grand Sage. He was the highest authority. He held dominance over every operation. However, domestic operations seemed to be the one field where he seemed to be rendered helpless at.

WRIOTHESLEY !

Fontaine, the land of mechas, tea parties, elegant dresses, and ofcourse downpours.

The bakery was warm, contrary to the cold weather outside, full of delightful scents of baked bread, steaming buns, delectable cookies and much more. The owner smiled to themselves, cleaning the top of glass display, content with what they had established.

The bell rang, signaling someone entering the bakery. Who in their right mind would come in this downpour? The owner took the appreance of the man soaked from head to toe, his black hair damp and a bit flattened, the overcoat hanging off his shoulders seemed heavy and dripped with water. His boots thudded against the floor as he approached the counter.

"...Your Grace!?" The owner sputtered at the sight of the Duke of the Meropide, a man who was as illusive as they came. "What brings you here?" The owner couldn't help but ask, seeing the man who braved the storm and was now in his store.

"I need your sweetest baked good. And please, stuff it with extra chocolate. Extra means extra. The Duke emphasied on the extra part.

"Yes but...if you don't mind me asking, why are you out here in such a weather?"

"Because my wife is craving something sweet. And that's an order as far as I know it," the Duke laughed, both from amusement and the fear of being murdered in cold blood by a woman 27 weeks into pregnancy.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

Wriothesley returned 30 minutes later, both proud and tired, "here love I got you the—"

You looked at him and sheepishly grinned "um i actually want your spicy BBQ ribs..."

...

Someone end him please.

NEUVILLETTE !

Neuvillette scribbled at the paperwork that piled up on his desk. Admistrative reforms, trade permits, policy amendment suggestions, court cases...

Tick tock tick tock

He glanced at the time. It was 8:30. He had strict orders to return home by 9. Non negotiable. After all his lovely wife said she would prep the best dinner date for the both of them and had been looking forward to it the entire week.

He couldn't help but smile the memory of her smile, her excited words as she explained her plans for the date, the different things she'd bake. It made his heart flutter. Neuvillette was a person unable to feel things — his position as the Chief Justice demanded that from him. Yet amidst all that, he enjoyed having a small space of comfort and familiarity he had created for himself. Just you and him. Nothing else.

Problem was—

8:35

"Monsieur Neuvillette, you've got these letters, some from the nobles, few from the common public." Sedene, the melusine receptionist reported, placing the heap of letters on his table.

8:40

"Monsieur, have you reviewed the case files for tomorrow? The board is asking for it." Sedene asked, waiting as he got up to retrieve the files.

He sighed, satisfied that he was finished with his duties for today. Now he could organize his space and still have time to get back home—

8:45.

"Monsieur! This needs your immediate approval! Its about amendment demands in the overseas trades by the foreign envoy"

Neuvillette wanted to pinch his nose. Seriously? How is it that the moment he fathoms the thought of some leisure...work finds its way to him? He was desperate to leave.

"Please tell them that my work hours are over and to come back in the morning." Neuvillette politely said.

"But they are not listening Monsieur—"

...sigh guess he had no choice.

He knew you would be furious. After all, he was 30 whole minutes later. Not one minute, not two but 30. As expected you were furious and it made fear and nervousness creep up his spine. The Iudex was a man of utmost authority. His judgement was absolute and his confidence was resolute.

Yet, all seemed to combust at the sight of you.

"Why?"

"Stubborn foreign envoy" he replied curtly, not beating around the bush.

You nodded before chuckling at his serious expression. "Relax honey, I am not going to skewer you with a fork."

Neuvillette exhaled in relief, "Thank god. Though I sincerely apologise my love."

"Oh no need. Just your company is enough" you smiled before going back to reheating the food.

Neuvillette didn't believe in falling in love twice. But hell he just did. With the same person that he devoted his heart to from the start.

ZHONGLI !

"Honey, you're going out, yes?' You called out to Zhongli, who was finishing up getting ready for the day.

"Yes dear," Your husband replied in a deep opulent tone, enough to make your knees buck every single time.

"Please get milk, eggs and meat on your way back...we are out of it and I won't be able to make stew with just vegetables," You peeped out from the kitchen. He smiled, "ofcourse. I'll be back by noon."

Zhongli had impeccable memory. He could recall every moment of every war from millenias ago. Yet a small voice nagged at his brain. He was forgetting something. What was he forgetting?

"Director Hu, am I forgetting something?"

Hu tao turned around, looking utterly baffled, "you? Forgetting something? That's impossible Zhongli."

Zhongli thought for a bit more before agreeing. Yeah, he never forgot anything. Maybe it was just him overthinking...

If only he had listen to all the alarms that warned him for what was about to come.

"I am home" Zhongli announced softly, taking off his shoes and stepping into the house.

"Welcome back!" You greeted him with the same warm smile the Lord of Contracts had grown to love. In his eyes, not even the mostly radiant Cor Lapis could match your radiance.

Then the dreaded question came.

"Did you get the groceries?"

pause. visible sweat drop.

So that was what he forgot.

"Um.." Zhongli sheepishly scratched at his cheek,* "...it seemed to have slipped my mind. You see dear, Director Hu needed my help with the funeral preparations and then Childe accompanied me to this ancient artifact stall where they were selling rather intriguing pieces—"

"So, you forgot groceries but bought artifacts?"

"..."

And for the first time in a thousand centuries, Deus Auri had to stare at a dinner full of artifacts after his beloved reprimanded him, saying "since artifacts are so important, might as well satisfy your hunger with them too."

a/n : IT IS FINALLY OUT. THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS SINCE LAST YEAR AKANDOAUDS I had such a fun time writing this- and giggled so much. So i hope you giggled too. Have a good day/night smoochies my loves.

creds: @teaeodora , banner creds : hoyoverse

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celuere · 3 months ago

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overtime

pairing: Zani x fem!reader

content: there has been an error inside the vault just right before the end of your shift, leaving you no choice but to add some extra hours to your work schedule.

cw: zani has a dick here because i said so, gentleman zani ngh…., acts of service, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, she really wants that fucking cookie (you), written before 2.3

No, this couldn’t wait until her release. also this is like over 3.5k words uhmmm yes this will have a pt 2

„Have you found anything yet?“

„Not a single thing. The security footage also shows no signs of any intruders.“, a gloved hand guided the mouse over the desk to let the video play once again before your eyes, showing the main hall right before the incident, yet no signs of any abnormalities, even after going through the whole facility thrice. 10pm and you were stuck in the Echo Depository of the Vault Underground because the motion detectors went off right before the end of your shift. And of all of your coworkers you ended up getting assigned with Zani to the case.

Normally you wouldn’t mind, but when you happened to be as attracted to someone as Zani… things became difficult. Unlike you, she didn’t frequent the underground of the Vault often, working more closely together with the Montelli Family in Ragunna City but today was an exception. Carlotta assigned her with the task to retrieve an ancient amulet from the artwork depository after a client expressed his interest in the golden accessory, which was already resting on a nearby table, ready to travel all the way to the city. And if Zani was known for one thing it was getting the job done on time. She clocks in precisely at 8am every morning and clocks out at exactly 6pm. Not earlier. Not later. So needless to say that she wasn’t in the best of moods during the last four hours.

„This is getting us nowhere, the footage is clear. We spent two hours combing through the depository with no signs of any intruders or malfunctioning echos. Not even a single thing is missing.“, the chair scratched over the neatly polished floor when she shoves herself back from the desk, „I’m checking out the room again. Would you like to come with me or continue staring at the security footage?“, her hand came up to fix the position of her tie, pulling with her index at the knot on her neck as an almost exasperated sigh leaves through her teeth.

„I guess that might be the better option instead of further hurting my eyes in front of the screen…“, you followed her footsteps out the security office, close behind if not directly next to her. You may have the needed clearance for this part of the Underground, but staying far away from the freely roaming echoes here was always the wiser choice.

Zani hated working overtime.

But it was halfway endurable with the cute Vault Secretary she can never quite stop staring at. And the fact she has an almost unhealthy obsession with pencil skirts. Especially your pencil skirts. Every single time she needs something from the secret Underground System, it is always you greeting her with a smile at the entrance. A pencil stuck behind your ear, a beautiful blouse stuffed into the skirt she loves so dearly. And it’s always a different outfit combination, too. She never once saw you wearing the same outfit over and over again. Yet, one thing she noticed which remained the same was your heels. The almost murderous stilettos with an equally black bottom brought you closer to her height than you actually were. Right now you were reaching her chin. You’d probably barely meet her shoulder without them.

„There seems to have a fight broken out at the end of the hallway between some echoes… let‘s take the stairs instead.“, a hand was placed on your lower back, guiding you over to the steps. Now, you might love your shoes, but walking down the stairs with them? A perfect recipe for an ankle injury. It‘s not your everyday task to play nightwatch after all.

„Are you sure we can’t just walk past them…?“, Zani already took the first steps down in her own heels, effortlessly, when she looked back at you over her shoulder.

„I‘d have no problems getting past them, but I have a beautiful lady to protect after all.“, she reached her gloved hand out to you, a smile playing around her lips as her compliment forces the heat to flush right into your face (and somewhere else), „I‘ll carry you down, if necessary.“

Sadly, there was no need for that. But you still grabbed onto her hand like your life depended on it while she carefully guided you down the staircase and even though you are already walking down the hallway to the room of the incident, none of you dared to break off the physical contact yet.

„Don‘t you want to get home soon…?“, you blew a lost hair strand out of your face.

„Of course I do, but Lady Carlotta promised me a good compensation for this incident so I will fulfill my duty as usual. And working overtime is not so bad when you…“, red eyes travelled down over your figure, seemingly devouring you, taking in the curve of your hips before finding your face once again, „…have such a lovely woman keeping you company.“, and maybe it was your tired feet, maybe you’re just exhausted but that last sentence surely turned your legs into jelly. You always thought her compliments were just part of her character, that Zani was just a charming person over all, but that seemed to not be the case here. And this thought alone forced your heart rate to increase as if somebody just turned on the motor. „Miss Zani, you truly flatter me, yet I must-”, with one harsh tug by your hand you were yanked behind a nearby pillar with the Montelli Employee pressing you into the cold stone while gently clasping a hand over your mouth to keep the yelp from drawing any attention towards you.

„Shhh…“, she put her index finger over her lips, gesturing you to keep quiet as her figure loomed over you, the soft scent of a neutral soap and an expensive perfume filling your nostrils when you heard it. Heavy stomps that carried down the hallway you were walking up mere seconds ago. Should you be scared about a possible echo attack? Yes. Should Zani‘s alertness concern you? Also yes. Couldn’t you stop staring up at her beautiful face, white strands of hair, falling into her vision, the cold lights surrounding you bouncing off of her head like an ethereal halo? Fuck yes. The loud thumping of your heart inside your ears caused you to overhear the hefty steps fading into the distance, you only noticed once Zani put some distance back between the two of you, fixing the position of her red tie, „My apologies for the sudden reaction. Are you hurt? The last thing I wanted to happen was running into a Hurriclaw with you by my side…“, her body tilted slightly to the right to ensure the bear-like echo doesn’t randomly decide to head back, „let‘s speed up a little. I don’t want you standing around in the open like this any longer…“, and she was already taking your hand back into hers to continue walking before you could answer.

„I-I’m not hurt, don‘t worry about me… I‘m rather impressed by how fast you reacted… I didn’t even notice it?“, an all too familiar pain seeped back into your ankles at the sight of another large staircase, but this time you didn’t have the chance to complain with how fast you were swiped off of your feet by your waist and the back of your knees.

„G-Goodness- Miss Zani- I-I appreciate your efforts but you really don’t have to trouble yourself l-like that for me-!“

Don’t look at her tits. Don’t look at her tits.

„Trouble? Helping out a beautiful lady in need is anything but trouble for me“, she flashed you a small wink as she almost elegantly carried you down the stairs, her grip on you tight but not hurtful. The thoughts in your head were too loud to form a coherent sentence. What was she thinking, carrying you around like a damsel in distress? Beautiful lady? Does she want you to mount her right this instant?

She set you back down with only the most gentlest of movements, a large oak door spreading before you, „now, let’s go through this cursed room for the last time…“, when you followed her you were only met with the same unchanged room. A few echos for showcase were placed into each corner, seemingly sleeping. To your right was a satin sofa placed against the wall, facing the main decoration of this particular place, a holy script that belonged to the Order themselves. For reason unknown, the horned woman only mildly expressed her strong distaste for Rinascita‘s religious belief. If you‘d have to take a guess, it probably was connected to her almost devil-like appearance. Two perfectly curled black horns, shimmering in the chandelier light just as her tail trailed from side to side, even if she was standing still… you wondered if you could touch it… what kind of reaction you‘d get out of her. Your hand barely twitched at your side before you ripped your eyes off of her to search around for any clues yourself, the faster you were done here, the better.

Besides the occasional clacking of heels and the clock ticking away on the wall- your effort bore no fruits. And your feet felt like they were about to fall off by the time you allowed yourself to flop down on the nearby sofa to give yourself a moments rest.

„By the Imperator… this is starting to get exhausting.“, by leaning your head back into your neck, you didn’t notice Zani kneeling down in front of you before you felt a gentle pair of hands lifting up your foot to slide your stilettos off of your pained limbs, the immediate relief rewarding you with a rush of energy through your spine. The other shoe following mere moments after. It was only when you opened your eyes back up that you noticed a pair of black, beautifully curved horns sitting between your legs.

Right, you weren‘t alone.

„What… W-What are you doing…?“, you sucked your lower lip in between your front teeth at the sight of her kneeling before you. Like a servant waiting for her next task. „I‘m just doing my job, Miss [Name].“, a look of reassurance spread over her facial features. If she only knew how badly your heart was hurting at this very moment. How the air between you sizzled with raw desire for one another. At least that was your perception of things. You could only hope she knew what she was doing to you. To your body.

„I-I don’t think taking care of me i-is part of your jo- ooooooh… m-my god…“, your body shivered in an almost sexual relief when she brought her thumb down onto your heel, rubbing firm circles over the skin that’s still covered by an equally colored tights. This felt like the Sentinel itself bringing you their holy message from far above. What kind of luxury is that? „It very much is. I can’t drag a pretty thing like you from a to z for hours on end and not at least relieve her a little bit.“

„Hah… y-you are doing too much- r-really…“, finally, you decided to lean your head back against the cushions as you bathed in her attention. „Mh… seems like we have different opinions regarding that topic. Excuse me for my following words, but you don’t happen to be attracted to me, right?

You blatantly stared down at her, the space between you suddenly growing overly heavy and hot shame sent all your blood up north into your face. To claim that you weren’t fantasizing about the Montelli Employee was a blatant lie, too often you sneaked your hand into your panties at the thought of her. How she greeted you the day prior, a charming smile accompanied by her equally attractive accent when she leaned against the counter you were always seated at. Horns glistening in the light of the crystalline chandelier hanging above your heads. Would she mind you touching them? Asking her about their origin? Too many questions that longed for answers.

Yet, she just asked you one. It would only be fair to answer truthfully, right?

„Miss Zani… I… I-I actually think you are very… very attractive…“, one would think you couldn’t get any redder in the face, but you did. Shamefully so. But mockery was far below her. In fact, it pretty much satisfied her, knowing she wasn’t interpreting too much into your encounters- how you handled her- spoken with her- eyes full of curiosity at the black accessories on her head. Not many people looked at her like that. If anything, she was mostly frowned upon for her demonic appearance. Her relationship with the Order only contributing further to a strained social image, but Zani grew accustomed to it throughout her life. Nowadays she couldn’t care less about what the people where whispering behind her back, let them talk. She‘s got a stable job, an oddly simple routine and an even simpler life. That‘s all what really matters to her. She never cared for stranger‘s opinions until she walked into the Vault Underground for the first time to see you seated at the reception. Going through a set of family heirlooms sent in for further storage, nibbling at the end of your pencil as you didn’t notice her approach and almost dropped the delicate porcelain figure when the first greeting between you both fell.

Zani would be lying if she claimed to have never made up any stories as an excuse to take the secret elevator down south. Now imagine her luck today when you entered the security office earlier, your lungs burning and your beautiful hair tussled beyond recognition from making a run for your life after encountering a bunch of hostile Diggy Duggies.

And now she was kneeling before you. A place where she always wanted to be.

„My, you truly think so…? Aren’t you scared I’ll…“, hands working up the fabric of the pencil skirt she loved so dearly when her voice was laced with nothing but carnal desire, seemingly burning her from within, her dick aching from the imprisonment of her pants, „whisk such a beautiful thing such as yourself away…? Who knows what I’d with you…“, you immediately noticed to what she was referring to. Her appearance.

„If the devil wished to have me, then I’ll gladly consider myself a sinner.“, dangerous. A very dangerous game you were playing here with her. There might be cameras placed at every corner of the room you were currently in, but she‘s done far worse than fuck the adorable secretary in a high-clearance mission. On a sofa that probably costs ten times her salary.

Her next words came out almost strained, as if she were to contain something, „the devil wishes for far worse things, butterfly.“, in truth she was just caught off-guard by your drenched slip. The fabric already soaked of your arousal that it was sticking to your lips, almost translucent enough to notice your hole fluttering every now and then at the almost painful feeling of being empty.

You were feeling quite fertile now to be serious with your pussy halfway exposed to her, but that didn’t stop you from pulling the wet cloth to the side, presenting your slick folds in all their glory to her. Something in the air shifted at your move, something you will maybe regret later on because with no warning- no explanation- she was all over you. Tongue dragging over your lower lips, savoring even the slightest bit of those sweet juices of yours that caused the resonator to believe that she was about to experience her second awakening. Maybe she will start frequenting church more often. Maybe the both of you did because eating the living daylights out of your coworker- with cameras pointed at you? Not even Primus Fenrico will be able to cleanse you of your sins. And not even the Sentinel will be able to remove her tongue from inside of you. She didn’t take you for the dirty kind. To fist her hair to further press her into your warmth as your hips treated her like a personal toy to grind themselves against. Sex was by no means a strange occasion for you but this? This was new. Nobody ever had you crying out for forgiveness and what not in the first thirty seconds, tears clumping your lashes as your hand almost instinctively traveled from the back of her head over to her left horn, wrapping your fingers around the body part that was unsurprisingly hard to the touch and yet-

A groan so ecstatic was swallowed up by your moist flesh as gloved fingers dug themselves into your thighs.

They were sensitive.

Amidst the fog of arousal clouding your mind you couldn’t help but give it a few experimental rubs over the surface with your thumb, only earning you more and more desperate sounds.

My fucking god, you will killing her. As if your taste wasn’t enough, she now had to withstand the torture of you rubbing her in the worst place possible. Her cock wanted to fucking burst through her pants by now, a new pair of underwear was also badly needed. Zani was always the master of her desires and impulses, but now? You had her by the throat, dick or whatever you wanted it to be. Her place was right here, face pressed into your cunt and her treating it like the last supper, sloppy munching sounds echoing throughout the room as she licked, nibbled, sucked and slurped on you for you all you were worth. But it wasn’t enough. Right before your high she let go of you with a nasty plop while working her way back up on her feet, the evidence of your pleasure running down her chin, the sudden withdrawal causing you to whine and squirm slightly underneath her.

„Z-Zani- Zani, that wasn’t fair-”, your voice came out shaky as you tried even out the lack of oxygen in your lungs, chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm- she had you stressed for good.

„What an insatiable minx you are… My apologies I… hah… I-I just couldn’t wait any longer…“, two hands worked effortlessly on opening up the belt around her pants and working the layers of clothing just low enough for her leaking dick to spring free.

May Imperator protect you.

You weren’t the most religious person but you sure as hell were now when you stared at a rocking seven inches fat dick, pearly drops leaking from the slit on her cockhead, nearly trimmed white hairs adorning the base before fading into a happy trail underneath her shirt.

You will make that fit.

„What…? No words left for me…?“

„I-I‘m going to die if you don’t put that in r-right now… Z-Zani please-”, a whine accompanied the last two words, undermining your desperation for her and the woman might just shoot a load by your pleading alone. She bent over in an instant until the tip was touching your greedy hole, feeling it flutter and clench against her as if in an attempt to swallow her up all on your own. The plush of the sofa sunk down further as Zani supported herself on her knee and strong hands grabbing your hip like you were hers to take, hers to fuck.

„Please, hm…?“, despite all her senses screaming at her to fuck your cunt sore, she added herself into you as if it were your first time. Your answer was nothing more than a breathy whisper, „P-Please, please, please… f-fuck me…“.

When you started your sentence your hand was resting on the satin of the furniture you were placed on. When you finished it was buried in her hair. You fit so perfectly around her. Like you were made for her and her only. Gripping her so tightly upon entrance. Sucking her in as if you never wanted her to leave. And she set off with a pace that made you question her humanity once more, one that had the sofa slide backwards until it hit the wall. Tears were blurring your vision now, making it hard to notice how Zani was fighting every urge in her body to start marking you up but that would be incredibly unbecoming for your work. Sadly. She doesn’t even know what to with herself in the first place. You were so warm and welcoming around her, balls slapping against your ass each time she plowed back into you, the creamy evidence of your shared excitement for each other pushed out between your cunt her shaft with even filthier squelching sounds.

This felt even better than a paid day off. By miles. The tip of her cock kissing your cervix each time she buries herself back into you with a sharp hiss had you moaning all over the place, shameless and greedy little thing you are. But it still wasn’t enough when your blouse was carelessly ripped open to expose the lacy bra covering up your nights, a few buttons popping off the seams as Zani immediately hooked her finger underneath the almost translucent layer to expose your beautiful breasts only for her to connect your nipple with her lips and if you weren’t beyond any coherent thoughts already- you were now. Sentinel forbid someone ever bears witness to the secretary getting split open on her coworkers cock as if it were just another Tuesday.

You just had to delete the camera footage of your little selfmade porn later on- if you were still functional enough.

#wuthering waves #zani x reader #zani x fem!reader #wuwa #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x reader #x reader #wlw #mdni

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clockwayswrites · 2 months ago

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Birb.... back?! Part 36

masterpost am sick, be kind

finally unstuck this!

By later afternoon, Bruce was officially worried. Even with Lian put down for a nap, Danny was no where to be found. Bruce had been telling himself that Danny was making himself scarce because of the active toddler, but even that felt flimsy with how fondly Danny spoke of his own niece. Though of course, that was without wings in play.

Maybe Danny was trying to avoid having his feathers pulled on.

Maybe Danny was afraid of himself.

“Alfred, have you seen Danny?”

“No sir,” Alfred said as he looked up from the dinner he was preparing. “Perhaps he went with Master Damian to help at the animal shelter?”

Bruce shook his head. “I’ve already checked. Tim, Cass, and Steph are still out. Duke just got home. Dick went with Jason, much to Jason’s annoyance.”

“He did remind to text me as much, as they may not make it back for dinner,” Alfred said. “But it remains that I have not seen Danny. He never came round for lunch, either.”

Bruce gave a little hum to show he heard the concerning news. That was far more than simply avoiding a toddler. He went over to the phone in the kitchen that Alfred still insisted on having and pulled down the false panel next to it. On the revealed screen, Bruce went through the biometric log in process: meant to be as quick as it was secure. As soon as he was in the system, Bruce activated the infared camera for the Manor and surrounding land.

Him and Alfred in the kitchen, Lian in her room, various pets, Duke in the study having just come up from the Cave…

There.

Bruce closed out of the system, made sure it was all the way out, and closed the panel up before he headed off. The only other human sized signature (and at least it was human sized), was in the guest wing. It was tucked away in some shuttered an unused lounge. It had to be Danny.

Not wanting to startle Danny, Bruce gave a soft knock on the door before he opened it and slipped inside. The room was still in that way only a room that hadn’t been used for decades could get. The furniture was cloth covered, the valuable and useful items all moved to other rooms where they would be looked after. The rest was just there like ghosts of Wayne Manor past. The only disturbance to the room was the drape of the window seat, just barely pulled back where it was pushed open by Danny’s knees.

“Danny?” Bruce asked. He worked to cross the room as carefully as Danny had. Not a cloth was disturbed.

“Do you think Alfred would have the time to drive me back to my apartment before dinner?” Danny asked. His voice calm in a way that felt detached. He didn’t look towards Bruce. “I should… get back. I should check on my plants. I should do some work. I’m sure that in this case Lucius would understand me keeping some awkward hours, but I should get back to it.”

Bruce continued to slowly cross the room. He sat against the arm of a cloth covered chair across from the window. Danny was back lit by the light, making him hard for Bruce to see. “I’m sure Lucius would understand you taking more time if you need it.”

Danny just gave a soft hum.

“If you really want to go back home, I can drive you back,” Bruce said. “Though I assure you that there’s no rush to leave from our side.”

“You’re supposed to be spending time with your granddaughter,” Danny said. There was an off warble to his words.

“She’s napping and will be out for another hour at least. Structured rest time is apparently very important for toddlers,” Bruce said, still amused at the lecture that he had gotten from Jason on it all.

“Structure helps them know what to expect so that they can better cope with the day at an age where they are constantly experiencing new events and sensations,” Danny parroted back. Apparently he had some lectures of his own.

“Your sister and niece,” Bruce said with a little nod. “You can of course do whatever you feel most comfortable doing, but I did a bit expect to see you around with Lian some today.”

That was the wrong thing to say, by Danny’s slight flinch, or maybe the right thing to say for getting to the bottom of what was wrong.

Danny wrung his hands. “I didn’t… Jason didn’t…”

When Danny seemed unable (or at least unwilling) to continue, Bruce reached out his hand. It felt like reaching across a divide. It was a relief when Danny reached back.

Gently, Bruce curled his hand around Danny’s, mindful of the overly sharp fingernails. He brushed his thumb over the dusting of fine feathers there. A thousand variables spun through his mind about why Danny was continuing to change now and what could be done about it.

“Jason is worried I could hurt Lian,” Danny explained in that same detached voice. “And when this happens… it’s easy to see why he fears that.”

“That’s less about you, I think, and more about things that Jason fears most,” Bruce said. “When Jason… when he was dead to us, it was because I failed him.”

“Bruce—”

“No, it’s true,” Bruce said with a shake of his head. “I was trying to protect him. Protect him from the world and the ugliness of things and his own anger… but I did it poorly. I didn’t know I needed to explain myself or where to even start. And that led into him trying to find his birth mother and—well, everything else. Lian may not be his, not yet, but it’s really just time. And I think that Jason’s biggest fear is to fail to protect her. It makes him overly cautious.”

“But is he wrong?” Danny asked.

“Yes,” Bruce answered without hesitation.

Danny snorted. “Such easy belief.”

“When did this happen?” Bruce asked. He ran his fingers over Danny’s taloned fingers to make it clear what he was asking.

“…when I got how afraid of me Jason was.”

Bruce “When you saw yourself as a monster because of it. Perhaps a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy then?”

Danny gave a tired little snort. “You and my doctor would have a grand time talking about the psychology of this whole change.”

“Well, I’m a fan of psychology. It helped save my relationships with my family,” Bruce said. “But for what it’s worth? This? Your hands? That doesn’t make you a monster.”

“Doesn’t it?” Danny asked.

“No,” Bruce said before he brought the hand up to press a kiss to it. “Now, if you really want to go home, I’ll take you, but don’t go because you’re running.”

Danny gave an over the top sigh. “No?”

“No,” Bruce said with a little smile.

“Okay. I’ll stay at least through the night,” Danny agreed, “but I do think that I should go back tomorrow. I should check on my plants, check on work, take some time to just… think.”

“That sounds like a much better plan. As does getting out of this room.” Bruce stood, Danny’s hand still in his. “Alfred would hate to know that you were in a room that wasn’t properly set up.”

“Oh, well, for Alfred then,” Danny said as he stood and let Bruce lead him from the gloomy room.

“Of course, for Alfred.”

#dp x dc #spirit halloween ship #danny/bruce #birdritch #this part fought me SO MUCH

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heyyoufriendthere · 15 days ago

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Nobody asked, but hey. I’m unreasonably sure of myself when it comes to comic book opinions.

Aunt May doesn’t know Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

I mean, she does NOW, but for a good majority of Peter’s career from the sixties up? Hell no. I know it’s cute whenever she’s dying to get that scene where she’s “always known,” and fandom LOVES a “it’s SO obvious when you think about it” moment for when they want to dump on the medium, but no. May Parker doesn’t know he’s Spider-Man and- more importantly- she DOES NOT want to know, and I like it that way.

“Why?” I hear you ask. “She’s been basically his mom since he was a little freaky marvel baby! Who on earth knows him better than her? How on earth couldn’t she have figured out her beat to shit nephew wasn’t Spider-Man when he’s basically just leaving his blood and costume all over his room?”

1. Because as feel good as it is, the Parker household isn’t sunshine and roses. May and Peter shut themselves off for years after Ben died. They love each other to death, but they don’t communicate. He's either shut away in his room, cracking jokes or off running around doing god knows what.

She's talking around him. Walking on eggshells. They both blame themselves, and it took decades for them to admit that to each other. Peter let the robber go, May chased him off because they got into an argument.

This shared guilt manifests in them both desperately wanting to take care of each other.

First, Peter throws himself into being both the Spider-Man, AND, more importantly, the breadwinner. The boy is broke. You know it, I know it, it's one of the single most iconic and relatable things about him. He gets weird about it. He's ALWAYS worried about it. I hear he might even have a money-worrying disease.

Money or the lack thereof has always been important to the mythos, even before Ben's death, but before Ben dies it manifested in things like Peter wanting a car or motorcycle the family couldn't afford and doing a wrestling gig. After Ben dies, his priorities shift.

He treats Aunt May like she’s made of glass (to be fair, she kinda is. Early Spider-Man has that woman fainting or having a heart attack every other week. Her constitution is held up by tissues, the US Healthcare system and Anna Watson’s unbreakable back muscles.)

Now, on top of being a near full time super hero, he's also saddled himself with the responsibility of taking care of the only parental figure he's got left in life while also trying to juggle both school and spending time with a friend group whose bank accounts aren't worried about when Jonah's feeling particular chipper about paying his employees.

Now he's trying to cover May's medical bills. Now he's trying to cover the rent. Now he's more worried about leaving May alone to live with Anna when his burgeoning friendship with Harry Osborn and the Coffee Bean Gang has netted him a free, all expenses paid apartment.

Meanwhile.

May's doing the exact goddamn thing. Richard and Mary dying the way they did kicked off the Parker family habit of keeping secrets, and Ben dying kicked her s-mothering into overdrive. She starts doting on him in a way that makes him feel like a child (modern depictions will try to convince you he was an itty bitty baby boy when he got his powers. They're lying. He was out of high school like 30 issues after Amazing Spider-Man #1.)

She's pawning her jewelry. She's trying to set him up with Mary Jane because she knows what's best for him (he needs someone fun and energetic because he's so quiet, and it's certainly not going to be that awful Betty Brant who will keep him on his toes).

Her entire idea of their relationship is that he's functionally helpless and she needs to take care of him. She’s not getting younger! Practically has one foot in the grave! That’s why she needs to put on an act to show him that everything is fine.

Richard and Mary are dead. Ben is dead. She's barely functioning on her and Ben's savings, the things she can sell and the money Peter's bringing in from his photography work. But it’s fine! Everything is fine and life will be just a bit brighter with a nice schmear on the bagel.

(Shout out to JM DeMattheis for showing up in the 90's to inject some fucking LIFE into Aunt May. Look at that quirked eyebrow. What a legend. Never read his Doctor Fate run, it will give you hives.)

2. Because, contrary to popular belief, Peter’s VERY good at hiding his identity and gaslighting his friends and family, especially when you combine his G(aslight)G(atekeep)G(Girlboss) skills with the good old Parker luck and its passive debuff to everyone's collective sanity.

Is this not the face of a woman doing okay in her relationship with New York's Friendly Neighborhood dirtbag?

I blame the Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon (he's fine with Shield immediately revealing his identity to a group of teen heroes? Absolutely the fuck not.) and the continuing woobification of comic books for how much this idea that Peter's inherently bad at keeping his identity secret comes up, because it's backbreaking work Peter doing to pull the wool over all of their eyes.

Why is he late? His job. Why is he never around? His job. What could his excuse be this time? Aunt May had her bi-weekly heart attack. Why is he beat to hell and back? He got hurt in the middle of getting pictures of Spider-Man. Why won't he ask for help? Why do none of his friends find this suspicious?

Part of it's because he didn't have friends in High School except for Betty and Liz Allen. He was an angry loner too stuck up his own ass about how smart he was to take the NUMEROUS opportunities presented to him to actually engage with his peers except to fight with Flash, (don't let modern depictions fool you either. Flash Thompson and Peter Parker weren't Bully and Bullied, they were enemies. They gave as good as they got. That's also, not coincidentally, why Gwen and Harry's first impressions of him in college were that he was rude little jackass).

So by the time he's in college and finally has a social life, literally everyone is used to him being a flake.

Which isn't to say that's the only way he's keeping his secret.

Here's the first of a few attempts to tell people exactly who he is.

Peter has a habit of telling his friends the truth they need to hear you see. Sometimes when he's delirious, sometimes when he's not, like here at Gwen's birthday party.

Or here when he's finally resolved himself to stop ruining his girlfriend Debbie's life after numerous therapy sessions about how she knows he's Spider-Man.

But that'll never be the end of it! He can't just out himself to the people he loves! No! He just made Gwen cry! Think about what this would do to May! So he does things like going to Hobie Brown to help him sucker the gang back into blissful ignorance.

Or walking back his reveals the second someone doesn't take them seriously.

After all, if it's fixed her and she doesn't suspect a thing, why bother telling her the truth? Yeesh. She goes on to write a book about it, it’s very funny.

But you get my point. Peter gets both very good at keeping his identity secret and is very wary of actually telling anyone over the years, to the point that just about the only people who knew leading up to the Civil War reveal were Mary Jane (don't you love a friendly neighborhood retcon?), the Fantastic 4, off again/on again dead or dying Harry/Norman Osborn, and Black Cat.

Otherwise it’s just people with superpowers or extenuating circumstances ENTIRELY out of his control that find out, like when he gets ambushed by Serial Sniffers like Wolverine and Daredevil. Or when he gets outed by his gooey ex Venom after it oozed onto Eddie Brock. Or the occasional psychic like Cyclop’s and Jean Grey's time/dimension adrift fail-son Nate Grey.

But this is a post about Peter and Aunt May, so let's get back to that before I run wild and free on another tangent.

3. Aunt May has had so many opportunities to know his secret. She finds his costume in his room!

She's literally seen a whole doll made of web fluid in his bed! She faints immediately of course, it was the sixties, but what does he do? Does he say, "Oh Aunt May, I'm so sorry I've been lying to you for awhile, I'm actually Spider-Man"? No! Of course he doesn't! He lies about why the hell there was a webbing doll in his fucking bed!

But why does she believe him?

Because it all comes back to this.

If Aunt May knows three things, it's that Aunt May knows her nephew.

Aunt May knows reality.

And Aunt May knows that she HATES Spider-Man.

Wait what?

Yeah! Aunt May hates Spider-Man, go figure. That rotten motherfucker is the cause of so much grief in her life. Why is Peter getting hurt? He's taking pictures of Spider-Man. Who's always causing trouble in the Daily Bugle? Spider-Man. She's set to marry Otto Octavius, and who shows up to ruin it? Spider-Man. George Stacy died, orphaning Gwen?! Spider-Man! GWEN DIED? SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-FUCKING-MAN!

She hates him so much that she pulls a gun on him. She fires it! There's a BKOW effect and everything!

Let that sink in. Not only is this the only time Aunt May has ever used a gun in the main continuity, but it's pointed at him. In her purse you'll find petty cash, some important documents, her change purse, a cooking utensil or two, and Aunt May's Glock For Spider-Man.

To me, Aunt May not knowing and not wanting to know is an important part of the character because her not being able to square these two things she knows are true in the same round hole makes her even more compelling. Peter Parker is her frail nephew who she loves more than anything in the world and Spider-Man is singlehandedly the largest, most destructive cause of stress for the Parkers. If her finding out isn't a shock, if it isn't negative, then something is wrong with the reveal.

Because you can't tell me that this woman finally coming to terms with the fact that Peter Parker is Spider-Man is going to be a peaceful affair. That she'd know and just be waiting for him to tell her.

This is a woman who hates and loves with a passion. Peter is her son and she's going to do what any good mother would do if they found out their kid is actively putting himself in harms way and lying about it to their face. Fic culture and games like Insomniac's Spider-Man, LOVE to smooth over all of her edges. She's the perfect, prim, caring Aunt May with infinite patience and a penchant for dramatic reveals. Can she be sad? Sure. Happy? Always. Worried about her nephew? No problem. Sometimes she can even be disappointed.

But angry? Not the perfect mother? No we can't have that, what about our feel good narrative? God forbid if she occasionally bites Peter the way he bites everyone around him! That would sully the message!

I don't know. I've spent the past five hours typing this up and finding my various images. Section 2 had to be cut way down because I can't hop across 12 more runs looking for the way he let Harry get trucked off to a mental hospital or how he burned Norman's goblin suits to keep him from relapsing from his amnesia and revealing his identity.

Long story short. Let May kill a man. Let her have a reaction less tepid than gasping out how proud she is of Peter. It's what makes those moments when she starts harassing Jonah and the Bugle feel so much better. It's why it's so cathartic to see them finally reconcile. Smooth Aunt May has never and will never hit the same.

#Spider-Man #aunt may #marvel 616 #peter parker #marvel comics #your friend speaks

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heich0e · 9 months ago

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ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

#shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha drabbles #bnha writing #writing

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niyasruledbyvenus · 7 months ago

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Astro Observations

(and maybe even controversial opinions)

Where 4h/cancer is placed can tell you about your home’s size/condition, especially childhood home.

Saturn= small/may feel constricting, Jupiter= large

poorly aspected/malefics/debilitated= ran down home/broken things.

Prey yonis (deer, rat, goat) feel safer in a group & in familiar places. Being by themselves or new places alone can cause anxiety. When out sometimes they feel that they are always in fight or flight or something’s around the corner.

Predator yonis (lion, tiger, snake) may not feel the same way. They may feel sure in themselves and how they can protect themselves. Tiger & snake yonis in particular might feel better off alone. Since both are solitary animals.

Debilitated planets aren’t bad, it just makes the person work a little harder to reap the benefits in that area. Whereas, exaltation comes easy. Which can sometimes make one lazier in that particular area, because there’s no drive. (the same with easy aspects & hard aspects)

For example,

Exalted Pisces Venus (naturally effortless beautiful, “woke up like this” minimal makeup)

Debilitated Venus in Virgo (Cosmetic procedures, tailors, professional makeup, gym trainers, spa, personal stylist/hair stylist)

Venus in Virgo/Scorpio usually tend to be even more beautiful because they actively work to put effort & keep up maintenance.

Mars in Capricorn (wake up early no alarm, straight to the gym, knows exactly their task and when to do it, doesn’t have much trouble with procrastination).

Mars in Cancer/Taurus (might need schedules, alarms, set tasks, mentor/motivator).

Saturn in Libra (gets benefits from hard work right away, not much struggle young, no problem with discipline)

Saturn in Aries/Leo/cancer (rough start in life/a lot of set backs, takes longer to see benefits or gets it after Saturn return/30s, has to actively work on their discipline).

Debilitated Saturn after hard work in younger years, later in life, they usually achieve gains & become a household name.

People tend to say Jupiter is luck. But to me it’s excess. In this world we associate excess=luck. (ie you have a lot of cars, money, children, etc) When it’s not always the case.

For example,

Jupiter in the 7h (Being in a lot of relationships or marriages. But the downside is it doesn’t last because Saturn represents commitment.

Marilyn Monroe multiple divorces

Drake dated a lot of women but no serious relationship.

Jupiter creates a surplus in whatever it touches. But it is not longevity, unless Saturn aspects Jupiter.

A planet that is a benefic can act as a malefic if debilitated & poorly aspected.

If Jupiter is debilitated & poorly aspected it can turn into a giant malefic. Because Jupiter expands what it touches. Rather it’s negativity or positivity.

Some say Mars is where your drive and aggression is. But I see it more so where you get injuries, accidents, or aggression towards yourself or others.

For example,

I’m Aries Ascendant; My Mars/lagnesh is in Virgo/6h. My most serious injuries came from doing mundane tasks around the house. I faced workplace aggression from coworkers & sometimes customers too. Also, I tend to face health issues that affect my daily life. 6h/virgo rules daily activities, physical health, workplace, coworkers.

Mars just went retrograde December 6. I can already see it’s affect on my daily routines/6h. Nonstop nausea, bloating, stomach issues, & headaches everyday. Virgo rules stomach/nervous system. Aries my 1h/Asc rules the head

My whole schedule is out of wack. Today, I dropped my breakfast on the floor and burnt my lunch lol.

Mars, Mercury, Uranus, & Jupiter are all retrograde right now. If you are taking the necessary precautions and your planets are in good dignity, you should be fine. Though it’s still going to be quite frustrating for most people.

Transits mainly do the most damage if you have debilitated or poorly aspected planet that is going retrograde.

Malefics going retrograde to some degree affect almost everyone negatively, but not in the same way. What area varies from chart to chart; the sign/houses it sits in.

Outer planets affect us as a collective. Inner planets affect us personally.

Even though in traditional Vedic/jyotish Uranus, Neptune, Pluto isn’t considered. I still see the planet’s nakshatras/signs/houses in a chart influence a person’s life. Especially, if they aspect personal planets like Sun, Moon, Ascendant.

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yuulettte · 11 months ago

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"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫?!"

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ )

✰ Tags: gn!reader x various JJK men, fluff, reader has a cold oh NOOOO!!, sfw, just sugary sweet

✰Characters: Gojo, Yuta, Yuji, Geto, Megumi, Nanami

✰ A/N: I tested positive for covid so I decided to be self indulgent.. First time writing hcs for most of these boys ( ´ ▽ ` ) I apologize in advance

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You tell him not to come near you out of habit, but he reminds you about his limitless technique! Can germs touch him? Who knows~

Long movie watching sessions, he'll buy you whatever you want to eat. Shoko told him to make sure you're hydrated, so he might force you to drink. Good luck!

Still manages to make you laugh with his antics. He'll wave his hands over you, using that eccentric tone, "Get better~ get better~!" as if it'll magically heal you

One time you catch him reading articles online on how to take care of a sick partner. The expression on his face is that of pure focus

He eventually gets fed up and says something about how 'the strongest never gets sick!' And thus turns off his technique to cuddle with you. He catches your cold the next day LOL

Guess even the strongest isn't immune to flu season

𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐎𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Attentive in every way. Is absolutely unafraid of getting sick. He always ends up catching whatever bug you have because he takes care of you no matter what

Runs you warm baths. He'll help you wash, dry your hair, and get dressed.

Rubs your back if you're feeling unwell, even when you're not sick ( ´ ▽ ` )

"What do you need? I'll go get it for you. Is there a dish you'd like for me to cook?"

He's an insanely good care taker (no surprise)

Has a habit of buying you plushies whenever you get sick, so your bed is over taken by them after a few years of dating. It's an army.. Or so you call it!

Will give you that sad puppy look if you refuse to let him hold you, even if it's out of love. He just wants to make you feel better

Doesn't let anyone else enter the house unless it's your family, he's your boyfriend and so it's his responsibility to take care of you! (he's protective)

𝐘𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Will show up at your place with a bag full of medicine and goodies

Also doesn't care about catching whatever you have.

"I've got a super good immune system, so it's no problem!"

It's true too, what takes you a week to get over he'll tank in two days. It's actually kinda scary

He'll do whatever he can to make you laugh. And if you can't, then he'll comfort you

You'll have video game tournaments in your bed, and by the end he's always curled around you like a guard dog. The both of you fall asleep like that often

He'll wipe the sweat from your forehead and give you a cooling pad when you wake up as an apology :'D

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He's not very good with germs, so he might keep his distance if you have a nasty virus

He still really cares! Just may approach you with a mask and some anti bacterial

Lots of praise. Reminds you that it'll be okay, you'll feel better soon and he'll make sure of it

"You'll feel better soon my love, don't worry. Just drink this,"

He'll sooth you with his voice to help you fall asleep.

Like Satoru, he'll ask Shoko for advice on how to care for you. He takes to it more naturally, though. It's the dad vibes! Care taking is in his DNA

You find yourself getting sick way less often when spending tons of time with him. He just has that sort of aura?

𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Not the most emotionally attentive, but he'll come over and bring magazines/books for you to read and some medicine

Will sit with you in silence. He doesn't want you to hurt your throat from forcing yourself to talk

If you'd like, he'll summon his shadow dogs for you to cuddle with. He'd do it himself but he doesn't want you to feel sweaty

He's surprisingly strict about what you eat. It has to be homemade and full of nutrients

He cooks recipes that Tsumiki taught him for you ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) they're delicious!

Even if he doesn't show it outwardly, he's honestly extremely worried. He wants you to get better as soon as possible!

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He takes time off work, you're his number one priority. He WILL be the one nursing you back to health

Husband material. He knows all of your favorite sick foods and most effective medications

Firm about you getting rest. "Please, allow me honey," and it's you literally reaching for a cup of water

He cooks meals that are easy on your stomach. Took the time to educate himself on what vitamins to give you

Will likely also catch your sicky, but he honestly doesn't mind because that means more time off with you.

The two of you will be wrapped around each other in bed while he reads to you, both with wet towels on your foreheads <3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 11 months ago

Note

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)?

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

............

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

...............

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

#this one was fun to write <3 #clanask #anonymous #roblox x reader #roblox pressure x reader #pressure x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #hurt/comfort #artist reader #fluff/angst

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bi-writes · 11 months ago

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whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

#yeah i could talk about this for years #i could talk about it forever #im so passionate about this lmao #anyways #i also want to point out the examples i listed are ONLY A FEW problems #there's SO MUCH MORE #anywho ai is bleh go away #ask #ask b #🐝's anons #ai

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digitaldaydreamm · 5 months ago

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Same person from before - I have a req if this is okay! For childhood bestie au :)

Maybe reader being drunk and sad at a party and her girl friends are all trying to help her be less drunk and sad :( and reader really just wants Rafe. (He may have alr been at the party or comes to it from his house) and stays with her to help her feel better and she feels better but becomes a clingy shy drunk for him in front of everyone because she’s embarrassed that she needed him in the first place?

Maybe she’s too out of it to notice but people can clearly see that reader and Rafe have some unspoken thing.

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | there's nothing wrong with needing your best friend

warnings: drunk reader

a/n: love this concepttttt, clingy reader is me lol. i hope this is what you had in mind!!

masterlist | taglist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

The party was too much. Too loud, too crowded, too overwhelming.

The bass thumped through your skull like a second heartbeat, every laugh, every slurred conversation around you feeling distant, like you were watching it all happen from underwater.

Your head felt light, the alcohol buzzing through your system, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your chest.

You had barely touched your drink in the last twenty minutes, just turning the plastic cup between your fingers as you sat curled into yourself on the couch, feeling more and more like you didn’t belong here.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Kiara’s voice was soft, her brows furrowed as she knelt in front of you.

You blinked at her slowly, fingers tightening around the cup, but you didn’t answer, afraid your tears would spill out of you like a waterfall. She wasn’t the person you wanted to hear from.

Sarah, sitting next to you, sighed. “It’s Rafe.”

Your stomach twisted at the sound of his name.

JJ groaned from the armrest, throwing his head back dramatically. “Of course, it’s Rafe. What did he do now?"

You swallowed, eyes flicking to your lap.

“We argued before I left,” you admitted, voice small.

It felt stupid now, all of it.

You had pushed him, wanting space, wanting to prove that you didn’t always need him hovering over you like some overbearing shadow. That you could go to a party on your own. Be independent. And now, sitting here with an empty drink and a hollow feeling in your chest, all you wanted was to take it back.

Sarah frowned. “You should’ve known he’d get mad about you coming here.”

“...I know.”

JJ scoffed. “And yet, here we are.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling small, your fingers twitching against the cup.

You didn’t want to be here.

You wanted him.

Sarah seemed to pick up on that because she pulled out her phone without another word.

Your stomach flipped.

“Wait—”

But it was too late.

You watched, heart pounding, as she typed. A thousand different worries raced through your head.

Was he still mad? Would he even come?

The thought of seeing him, of facing him after how you left things, made your breath catch in your throat.

But the alternative—sitting here, pretending you were fine when you weren’t—felt worse.

So, you waited.

And it didn’t take long.

The moment Rafe stepped into the party, it was like the entire room shifted.

He didn’t look around, didn’t acknowledge anyone else. His gaze went straight to you.

His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened—just barely—the second they landed on you.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of your dress, your stomach twisting.

Is he still angry? Is he going to push you away?

You didn’t know, and that uncertainty made your hands tremble slightly as you fisted the fabric in your lap.

He was already making his way towards you, his presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly.

The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe.

When he finally stopped in front of you, towering over where you sat, you hesitated.

Your fingers twitched. You wanted to reach for him.

But what if he didn’t want you to?

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible over the music. You felt your eyes water once more, the tears now threatening to spill.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping just slightly. And that was all the encouragement you needed.

The hesitation melted away as you moved, reaching for the sleeve of his dress shirt with shaky fingers.

He let you, didn’t pull away, didn’t move.

That was enough.

You gripped the fabric tightly, using it to pull yourself up, but the alcohol made your movements sluggish, unsteady.

Your body tilted slightly as you stumbled forward, and before you could even register what was happening, Rafe’s hands were on you.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your hip, steadying you effortlessly. Your breath hitched at the contact, at the warmth of his touch.

Your fingers clenched in his shirt, your face tilting up to meet his gaze, and suddenly, it was impossible to think about anything else.

“I—” You swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat.

Rafe just shook his head, taking in your intoxicated state, his grip on your waist tightening. “Jesus, kid…”

You hesitated for half a second longer before finally letting yourself sink into him, pressing your face into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso in a way that was almost shy.

He went rigid for a moment, like he wasn’t expecting it.

Then, his hold on you softened, and he let out a slow, steady breath before wrapping both arms around you completely, his fingers pressing into your back.

You felt yourself relax instantly, melting against him, gripping onto his shirt like he was the only thing keeping you standing.

Maybe he was.

You pressed closer, nuzzling against the soft fabric, your voice muffled when you mumbled, “Missed you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against your back.

JJ groaned from the couch. “Are you serious?”

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of how tightly you were clinging to Rafe in front of everyone. But when you shifted slightly, he just pulled you closer.

You felt his lips brush the top of your head, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t.”

You swallowed. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t need me.”

Your breath stuttered. Because, God, you did.

So, you clung a little tighter, buried your face a little deeper into him, and let him take you home.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x childhood friend!reader #obx kooks #obx pogues #unspoken claim

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