#i might eventually remove one of the other ones idk

[his-lost-one]

btw i have now finally scripted pan into my main dr!! :D that dr is basically like a “better cr” dr with lots of fictional characters and immortality lol and yeah !! next i’ll probably script in other ouat characters bc if its just pan, it’s gonna be a lil weird imo- so i’ll also add the other neverland charas and obv the main main characters like emma, regina, rumple, etc etc etc yk? uwu

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[sunlitmiracle]

smashes my current interest together with my old interest (aka yet another "what Dungeon Meshi but Gamers?" AU)

Once when I was a child I had a complete crying meltdown over Creatures, because the manual insisted that the complicated AI of the Norns made them truly alive and 10-year-old me was freaked out at the idea of being solely responsible for making sure these real animals wouldn't die. The funny part was that this was the Playstation version of Creatures, which has no biochemistry and very basic AI compared to the PC/Mac games where players actually were debating whether or not it was true artificial life. A PSX manual gave me existential dread and it wasn't even telling the truth.

Anyway, kid!Marcille would also have a meltdown over the Creatures series, especially if she had the computer games and got to see how vastly different some breeds' lifespans are. Like in C2 where you have Norns that live for around 5 hours and Norns that live for 10, both of which are vastly more than Ettins who don't even live for 1.5 hours (and usually less due to radiation or starvation).

Lucky for her, having the computer version means she could download modified genomes made by other players that make creatures live longer or even outright remove certain death triggers. However I think she'd have more fun learning to read and edit the genomes herself, to get a better understanding of how the game works and how to change it to suit her own tastes. And because she could pretend she's one of the mysterious ancient Shee who created the Norns, Grendels, and Ettins and then vanished, leaving behind relics of their old society.

(Speaking of Grendels, she would unfortunately dislike them because they're the Designated Evil Species and she'd hate how they harass and attack her Norns. I think she'd also pity them though, because they get sick a lot and have short lifespans. Likely she'd just end up downloading/creating a genome without the aggression towards Norns. Ettins she'd like except for in C3 when they dismantle her meticulously-placed gadget setups, so she might mod out their hoarding compulsions too. Both of them would of course also live for however long her Norns would live.)

Also. While standard creatures' lifespans are counted in hours, if you modify the half-lives in the genome editor you can increase it to centuries. Or even just over a millennium if you set the half-lives to their max length (assuming you also leave the old age death trigger at its vanilla value).

and I like to think that elven Creatures players would pass around copies of what they consider a template genome that's appropriate to their own lifespans. Something that would make their creatures live for weeks or months of continuous play. I also like to think the Creatures DS Warp is still active in this AU because of the hilarious frustration when these long-lived Norns travel to worlds run by short-lived players whose Norns have vanilla lifespans, and vice versa.

(Most of the time in Creatures, offspring of parents with different lifespans will just have one or the other, but there's a chance the genes cross over right in the middle of the various age triggers and cause unstable aging rates. Like a Norn that goes through the childhood stages in hours but then has a very extended adulthood. Or a days-long childhood followed by suddenly dropping dead of old age once the vanilla adulthood genes kick in. Or, if the child has one parent's half-life decay rate and the other parent's age triggers, all sorts of odd things could happen. I once had hybrid Norns who lived for 20 hours and would die of organ failure before reaching the old age threshold!)

(Now that I think of it, Marcille would absolutely hate fast-agers. The first time she watches a creature hatch, turn old, and die in just one brief minute of life, she would be sobbing for days. One of the first things she'd learn to mod out would be mutations that cause the Ageing/Life chemical to decrease unusually fast.)

On a lighter note, while I don't know what her favorite designs would be I think she'd love choosing cute breeds to use in her world. Once she figured out how to give her creatures the comfortable life she wants them to have I can see her redirecting all her gene-editing efforts into changing color expressions. She might even learn to sprite or model her own custom designs.

[paskariu]

ah ha ha instead of actually learning for my exam tomorrow my dumbass is instead changing the strings on a guitar. lesgo

already changed the broken one and i have the other five too so i might as well change them too and keep the old ones as backup

[ctrlchar]

HIII can you do something like were your giving Johnnie head while he’s playing video games with his friends or streaming on twitch or filming a video and he’s trying so hard not to moan and he gets so fed up he fucks you or something idk 🗣️👍

giving Johnnie head under his desk headcannons

a/n: I loveeee this idea sm thank you for the request!!

cw: kinda public? it’s through a screen but you get the point,somewhat rough,

he’d be sooo pissed off but at the same time he’d love it sm

it would be whenever he’s live,leaving you to your own thoughts as he played a series of games with his friends on twitch

every once and while whenever he got a break from the game he would talk to you and give you a little kiss if you were still in the room with him

of course this wasn’t enough

you had considered humping his pillow on his bed but you figured it might be too obvious if he repeatedly been looking over at his bed

eventually Johnnie had decided to pull away from his chair to go and grab him a water bottle which was on his desk

seeing this window of opportunity, you crept under his desk sitting on your knees as he gave you a confused look which was just barely out of frame of the camera

you began to unbuckle his pants,making it abundantly clear as to what your intentions were

you took his for now soft cock out of the restraints of Johnnie’s jeans and began to slowly stroke it

Johnnie on the other hand was trying to put all his attention on the game which had just begun a new round rather then the sensation between his legs

you had begun to take the tip into your mouth,his hips bucking up slightly which to anyone watching looked like he had just been readjusting in his seat

every time you would take more of him into your mouth he would curse out a profane word with a “cough” at the end

to the viewers it looked as if he had simply gotten pissed off at his game but to you that was obviously not the case

his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping his mouse to keep his composure

your tounge danced against the underside of his cock driving him absolutely batshit insane

after a couple more minutes of you teasing his cock his friends conveniently decided they had played enough games for the night and decided to end their streams making Johnnie follow suit

“alright guys” he says his voice cracking a bit at the end “i’ll see you all later” he says before quickly ending the stream

as soon as he ends the stream you remove your mouth from his cock going back to slowly stroking it

you giggle softly and look up at him as he runs his hand through his hair before he pulls himself from behind his desk

“what the fuck was that” he asks seeming upset however you both knew he wasn’t genuinely upset at all

however he was to a degree pissed

“i was bored” you pout “and you wouldn’t give me any attention”

i mean all you wanted was his attention so that’s exactly what you got

he proceeded to bend you over his bed using the spit off of his cock mixed with your own slick as lube as he pushed himself deep inside you bottoming out in one push

“tryna get me fuckin’ caught up huh?” he says thrusting into you at a even faster rate then before,the obscene sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room

“thinkin’ you can tease me and get away with it” he grunts out to which you whine due to all the pleasure coursing through your body

you couldn’t even form sentences because of how good he was making you feel. all you could do was moan out a string of apologies as his hands move to your hips

“i don’t think you’re really sorry” he admits “if you were sorry you wouldn’t be creaming all over my fucking dick” he says punctuating the last two words with a thrust.

looking down to see what he was talking about you noticed the white ring that had formed around the base of his cock

he begins to slow down his thrusts giving you a minute to talk before going back to his relentless pace

“mhm I promise m’ sorry” is all you could cry out with tears forming at your eyes

his ring clad hands grip onto your hips which was sure to leave bruises the next day but you didn’t care

if anything you wanted him to leave bruises you wanted to have a constant reminder of just how good Johnnie fucks you

mutually, he wanted the bruises to stay as a reminder to not tease him like that again

his grunts turn into moans as he approaches his long awaited orgasm

he could tell you were getting close as well from the way your back was arching off the bed to the way your moans picked up and got even higher then before

with his tone softening up he moves one of his hands to your hair petting it softly “come on baby cum for me” which was all you needed to hear

your nails scratched down his back as you came hard,almost on the verge of shaking had Johnnie not been holding onto you

with a couple more thrusts Johnnie had came inside you,as he slowly pulled out watching his cum drip out of you

after a couple minutes of you guys laying together on his bed you look up at him from where you had been laying on his chest

“you’re not actually mad are you?” you ask looking up at him

his face softens “of course not baby” he says leaving a light kiss on your head as he held you close in his arms

[alilreader]

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Getting Flustered

requests open!!!!!!

“This never happened, do you understand?! If I find out you mentioned this to anyone, I’ll…” prompt by thepromptswhisper

contains: idk mild smut? they makeout. gets caught. sneaking out. characters are 3rd years, 18yos. probably doesnt follow canon due to me not knowing if theyre still in dorms by 3rd year.

warnings: mild smut, snacks, teasing

You giggled to yourself, quietly of course, as you snuck through the darkened UA dorms. Excitement filled your veins as you thought about your actions.

"He's gonna love this..." you let your mind wander, as you clutched the handmade treats closer to your chest.

The truth is, you'd had a little something of a crush on a certain blonde for awhile now. He constantly crossed your mind at the most inopportune times.

That's what led you to sneaking around, just to visit his dorm, at 3am.

You'd known he was up, especially as your phone buzzed in your pajamas' pocket. No doubt a message from him. You confirmed this, as you gently removed your phone from it's place in your pocket.

💥Bakugou: Y/N, if you send me one more cat gif im going to blow you up 💥Bakugou: Serves you right going quiet on me 💥Bakugou: Y/N?

As you read the last message, you felt a twang of guilt from leaving him on delivered for so long. In reality, it'd only been about 15 minutes from his first message.

You chuckled lightly, at his clinginess. He would never admit it, but you knew deep down he cared about you to some extent.

Slowly, but surely, you eventually found your place in front of his dorm room. You rapped your fist on the door lightly, careful not to wake his neighbors.

You could hear a muffled groan from the other side, and even the clatter of objects as his footfalls neared the door. Your anxiety spiked for a split second. Had this been a bad time?

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, a grumpy looking Bakugou met your gaze. His crimson eyes softened at the sight of you, a slow blush rising to his cheeks.

You couldn't help but admire his build. His muscle glistened with sweat, the small lights littering the dorms basking him with a beautiful grace.

His bicep flexed as he held the door open, the divots catching your attention, as you followed his arm up to his face with your gaze.

"What the hell are you doing out here, dumbass?" the broad shouldered man grumbled, all the while looking mildly pleased to see you.

Your smile brightened, as you held out your goodies, a peace offering.

He scanned the box of treats, before inviting you inside, taking them in his grasp. You excitedly followed behind him, the scent of his room hitting you like a truck.

Due to his quirk, he produces a huge amount of sweat. While this is good for combat, it's rather embarrassing for his ego. For you, however, you just recognized the smell as him.

You scanned his room appreciatively, looking over the decor.

"Bakugou! I didn't know you were a collector!" you gasped, excitedly as you looked over some of his All Might merch. You knew he was a fan, but a nerd? Wow.

Before he could think much about it, munching on his new snacks, he found himself mumbling, "'S Katsuki..."

A bright blush quickly rose to his cheeks, heating him as he realized the weight of his words.

Sure, you two were close, known each other even before UA. But this was a new level of closeness.

Your grin widened at the new bond, "Right, Katsuki," you said, turning around. At the sight of him, blushing furiously, head in his hands, you couldn't help but blush yourself.

As if sensing your amusement, his flustered state turned to one of mild anger. You knew it wasn't directed at you. You couldn't help but laugh as he spat his words.

"This never happened, do you understand?! If I find out you mentioned this to anyone, I’ll…” he trailed off, thinking.

"You'll what, Katsuki?" you teased, almost jumping in place with excitement.

You were met with a growl in return, as he fought not to blow little explosions in your face. He floundered for a response, before settling on one that would fluster you just as much.

"You'll have to kiss me," he smirked, watching your face light up a cherry red.

"Um.. but to do that.. I'd have to actually tell someone... and then.. that must mean, um do you NOT want to kiss me than?" you mumbled, more to yourself thn anything as you stuttered out your response.

He grumbled at your stupidity. Of course, you'd take it literally and not as an invitation.

Without a second thought he was across the room, quickly covering the space between you. With each step he took forward, you took one back. It wasn't long before he had you pressed up against his desk.

His hands found themselves on both sides of your body, trapping you. "I see the way you look at me, always so observant. It's like you like me or something..." he whispered into your ear, sweeping your hair away.

"W-what? That's crazy!! I-I observe everyone! Equally!" he laughed, as you stumbled over your words.

He pressed a small kiss to your earlobe, so softly, you barely registered it. Your face was heated, so warm he could feel it radiating off of you.

To say you were embarrassed was an understatement.

His right hand found your chin, clasping it between his index and his thumb. You found yourself leaning into his grasp, eyes falling shut as you relaxed.

"Your face is a dead giveaway," Bakugou mumbled, with the confidence of a thousand men.

Before you could respond, or even open your eyes, you felt a hot mouth on yours, pressing you further into the desk.

His left hand found your waist, as your hands found his hair, tugging at small strands.

He nibbled your lower lip, wanting to be let in. You obliged, and found his tongue meeting yours.

The hand nestled in his hair soon found his back, as you traced every muscle. You could feel him smirking against your mouth, but all you could think about was how amazing he was at kissing you.

A twinge of jealousy filled you, as you thought about who he had practiced with. This just made you kiss him harder, a wave of possession washing over you.

Your mouths mended together as if they were made for each other. Your tongues, perfectly in sync.

His hand brought your waist closer to his navel, your chests pressed together. A moan was pulled from your throat.

As you were learning each other's bodies, you were broken apart by a knock at the door, followed by a disgruntled voice, "Break it up.. Y/N, come on out."

Your face flushed in embarrassment. "Yes, sir..."

[c0llisiion]

NUMB TO THE FEELING : Concert Sex —J.jk

★pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

★genre : smut

★: npr, switch!jk , switch!reader , fellacio , handjob, whiny!jk, idol!jkandreader , dirty talk , cum eating, lots of ‘baby’ usage, its basically jungkook being all whiny idk 💀 – lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 1,207

Pt.1 , Pt.2 [can be read as a stand alone!]

A/N: HIIIIIIII! Im backkk! I decided to quickly write this lolol (not rlly proud). I didnt intend it to be so switchy jk path but somehow i js ended up there 😭 its kinda short and idk imo but anyways hope you liked this! I might make this a series hehe

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It was the day of jungkooks fanmeet. The crowd was huge. Fans were screaming out his name over and over again. The arena was so lively. You were deep in the audience, and no one seemed to notice you. You were sitting in the 3rd row with your managers and bodyguards surrounding the seats in front of and beside you. You watched as your boyfriend entertained a crowd of mostly young women. There was a spark of jealousy, but why would you be jealous when you get to fuck him whenever you want?. As the concert went on, vcr’s were played every now and then, but one of them caught your eye. It was a vcr where Jungkook hopped out of his and yours shower. In the same shower, he ate you out till you were shaking. The same shower where you suck his dick as he groans and whines at the way your mouth worked on his dick. The same shower he pushed you against, fucking into you until you blacked out. Thoughts of those steamy days and nights flooded your mind as you watched the vcr.

 

Jungkook had just finished the second-last setlist of the night. You watched him scurry off the stage, removing his clothes in the process. You relaxed and laid back a bit when one of jungkooks staff approached you. “Mr.jeon would like to see you in his dressing room immediately, Ms.y/n”  she said while taking deep breaths. You smirked and nodded before following her. You knew exactly why he called you. You were guided through the backstage area by his staff. People were running rampant, preparing for the next set list. She eventually brought you to Jungkook's dressing room before giggling and leaving. You stared at the door in front of you, contemplating whether to tease him and just leave or give him what he wanted. “Come in already, baby.” A deep voice was heard from inside the room. How the hell did he know? You chuckled before entering his dressing room. "I thought of actually leaving you all hard and-“ jungkook grabbed you by your neck and smashed his lips against yours, cutting your little banter off. His other hand went to your ass, groping the fatty flesh from under your teeny-tiny miumiu skirt. His tongue was inside your mouth as he pressed his hard-on against you. “Fuck– gotta make this quick, baby. God, you look so hot rn.” He mumbled into your mouth as his fingers toyed with your wet pussy. You moaned into his mouth, grinding onto his fingers for more stimulation.

You pushed him away when you felt his fingers pushing inside of your soft walls. He stumbled back a bit and stared at you, confused. “Baby? Whats wrong-“ he got cut off as you pushed him down onto the dressing room couch, immediately taking your place in between his legs. Jungkook smirked at your sudden action before relaxing on the couch, throwing his head back, waiting for your next move. You were kneeling down in front of him as you palmed his erect cock through his jeans. You unzipped his pants and pulled down both his jeans and boxers together. His big, thick cock flung out, hitting his belly, precum already leaking. 

You took the monster in your hands, smearing the pre down his shaft before sucking on his tip. Jungkook let out a loud groan, bringing his hand to your head to push you further down. You slapped his hand away. He stared at you with a confused look and a pout. “You’re being mean-..” he whined. Your hands went up and down his length, slowly pumping it. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” You say it tauntingly. Your hands increased in pace, and jungkook was in another world. His head was thrown back as whimpers after whimpers escaped his mouth. “Look at you. All whiney. You just love it when i tease you, dont you jungkook?” You say before pressing your thumb into his slit. Jungkooks hips bucked up at the sudden action. “Haa…! Nghh- y/n..” he moaned, his eyes looking down at you half-lidded and on the verge of tears as you kept teasing his sensitive tip. “Speak up, baby. What is it?” You ask with a fake sweet tone as you fondle his heavy balls. Pulling and tugging on them before licking up a huge stripe from his balls to his tip. Jungkook whined out loud, his back arching away from the couch. Hands gripping the armrest. “You are so sensitive..” you say, gliding your hands up and down his length faster. “So..so.. sensitive..” wrapping around his dick tighter and pumping him faster. “Haa… fuck so good, y/n… im gonna cum…—“ he says, eyes closed and in a state of bliss. “Yeah? You’re gonna cum? What if I don't let you?” You say before detaching from his cock and watching it twitch in the air. Jungkook whined and cried, missing your soft hands. “Please y/n.. let me cum.. I promise to fuck you good .. “ you loved seeing him be all desperate for your touch. The way he could switch from being a dom to a sub was so surreal. You chuckle at his words and nod. “As you wish…” you say before putting his entire length down your throat. Jungkook moaned out as your throat spasmed around his thick dick. Your head bobbed up and down his length. His hands are pinned down to his sides by your hands, restricting him from touching you. 

Jungkook was a moaning mess. His sweet little mouth let out groans every second as you worked up his length. You felt his dick twitch in your mouth, and before you knew it, a white, salty liquid coated the inside of your mouth and throat. You coughed and gagged around his cock as rope after rope of cum kept slipping down your throat. Spurts of his cum start to peek out the sides of your mouth. You pulled away and swallowed all of it before bringing your hands back to his softening cock, overstimulating the hell out of him. Jungkook shuddered under your touch as he tried pushing you off. “Y/n please.. thats enough..” he said. You smirked at him before continuing to work up and down on his length. He leaned forward and wrapped his hand around your neck, immediately stopping your movements. "Didn't I tell you to stop, doll?” He said he was squeezing the sides of your neck. You nodded and whimpered as his grip on your neck tightened. His hands traveled to your jaw, his fingers wiping away the reminder of his cum that was around your mouth. He stuffed his fingers back into your mouth, and you shamelessly licked off the rest of his cum. He smirked and softly slapped your cheeks. “I fucking love you.” Was all he said before he was cut off by a loud knock on his door.

“Jungkook you are up in 10! Get ready quick!” His manager screamed from the other side. He looked at your kneeling figure before kissing your cum stained lips. “We are not done yet btw” he said, pulling you up before putting his pants back on and exiting his room.

A/N: Ilysmmm! Thank you for reading!!!

[soggyriceee]

Right Next Door | Simon Riley

| female!reader, Simon Riley, Public Sex, unprotected p in v, dirty talk cuz its smut |

summary: honestly I wrote this(took like two days) to try and stop the writers block so this might be shit, but Simon pulls you away during a meeting with the rest of 141 and fucks you right next door. a little bit of subby Simon(?) idk, dry humping

Simon was never one for public sex. he didnt like the idea of such an intimate moment between him and his lover being completely ruined. and he hated even more the idea of someone other than him seeing you naked, hearing those pretty little moans and whimpers. he wanted that to be something you both shared, and wanted it to remain a secret.

however, today was different. maybe it was how you styled your hair, or how tight that tank top looked. how your hot pink laced bra seeped through the thin cotton of the white tank top, your low rise jeans showing off your hips perfectly. or maybe it was your makeup. you looked different, a good different. a different that made him want to kick everyone out the room, bend you over and fuck you on the table where your captain sat now. his dick was painfully pressing against his pants and he couldnt wait anymore.

clearing his throat, he grabbed his phone and pretended to look at a text on it. "uhh if you'll excuse us, one of the rookies asked if we could go unlock his room door." Simon said, standing and gripping your forearm gently, pulling you up from your chair. looking up at him confused, you tried to speak but Price gladly did that for you. "isn't that a one person job, Riley?" he asked, tilting his head, a small smirk across his lips. however Simon ignored the question, quickly dragging you behind him.

"simon! thats a really important meeting." you told him as he shoved you right into the next room. he followed behind, locking the door and turning the blinds closed. " you think your cute, huh?" he said, turning to now face you, walking over in two strides. you tumbled back a bit, your hands resting on top of the desk behind you. "w-what?" you chuckled awkwardly, looking around the room. his hands gripped your hips and hoisted you up onto the table, a small yelp coming from you. "s-simon!" he quickly hushed you, pushing your legs open to stand between them. " wearing that fucking shirt.. that fucking bra. you're such a tease. bet you want Captain to see, don't you?" he mumbled, his hands moving up to your covered breasts, squeezing them.

you moaned at his sudden action, shaking your head quickly. "n-no Simon you know its laundry day." you quickly responded, trying to get him to look at you but he was too busy undressing you mentally, thinking of all the things he wanted to do to you. "fucking liar." he eventually mumbled before gripping the neckline of your shirt, pulling it apart. your jaw dropped, a bit of annoyance washing over you as this was unfortunately your only shirt you brought. cause why would you need another shirt? "Simon!" you gasped but his right hand quickly covered your mouth, his eyes finally meeting yours. "didn't I say be fucking quiet?" he growled, his other hand slapping the inner of your thigh. you moaned at the painful bliss, nodding quickly. "so then be quiet."

his eyes moved down to your covered breasts, faint hickeys littering the tops of your boobs. he smiled to himself at them, applauding his artwork. he removed his hand from your mouth, moving down to grip one of your boobs, feeling the squishy flesh in his hands. he loved them, was his favorite body part from you. he loved watching them bounce as he fucked you, thats why he often keeps his eyes shut during sex. looking at them bouncing would make him cum way to fast for his and your liking. he pulled his mask up to his nose before licking his lips.

"so fucking perfect.." he mumbled to himself, pulling the bra down slowly, watching your breast plop out, bouncing a bit. he moaned at the sight, feeling his dick twitch hard. he was sure the wet spot he felt in his pants was the pre cum. or maybe he really creamed his pants. he was growing more and more impatient, he needed you now. " I need to fuck you lovie.. you look so beautiful.. I cant wait till we're home." he whispered, leaning into your neck. he pressed a gentle kiss first, then a rough one. he sucked the skin between his teeth, nibbling the skin softly. a whimper left your lips, your hands gripping the edge of the table. "s-simon~" you breathed out, your eyes fluttering closed.

he let out, what you argue, was a whimper, his hips beginning to jut into you. his lips still worked on making those red marks along your neck, slowly forcing you to lay down on the table. his thrusts grew more needy, completely dry humping you against the table at this point. it was deeply embarrassing for him. he never, ever, showed his need in such a desperate way before. he always kept it hidden, wanting you to show your wild side a bit more. but he needed you, now. and you found it more than hot. the way his moans grew in pitch and consistency the more he rammed into you. "are you close daddy?" you whispered in his ear, his head lodged into your neck, hands wrapped around your waist. he groaned, a small nod coming from him.

never had he thought or imagined himself cumming in his pants, especially not from dry humping. especially not with his team right next door. but he couldn't help it, the way you'd meet his hips half way, adding to the friction against his tip. his teeth sank into your skin as he felt warmth fill the middle section of his pants, pretty little whimpers leaving him. his grip on you loosened, his chest heaving heavily. he lifted his head from your neck, a bright red filing the color of his face. you smiled up at him from below, cupping his cheeks. "that was so cute." you whispered, looking down at his pants.

"s-shut up." he groaned, hands already working at removing your jeans. he was quick to drop them to the floor, your panties quickly coming after. "need to fuck you.. for real." he said, falling to his knees. his arms wrapped around your thighs as he jerked your body forward, his lips quickly latching to your clit. you gasped at his quickness, your head falling off the edge of the table. his tongue moved in circles against your clit, humming softly at how your body reacted to him. "gotta be quiet baby.." he said from below, looking up at you through your thighs. you tried to muster out an 'okay' but the way his lips moved against your pussy, all you could do was slam your hand over your mouth, silencing your moans.

his right hand slowly moved up your thigh to your entrance, two fingers slowly sliding into you. your thighs squeezed around his head harder, only earning a growl from below. "s-simon~" you whimpered into your hand, your eyes squeezed shut. his fingers moved quicker, curling up the second he found that soft, squishy g spot. "fuck this pussy.. so fucking good." he moaned, pulling your labia gently.

if Simon was good at anything other than combat, it was eating your pussy. it was like he was the God of pussy eating. and what was most embarrassing was the others knew too. you knew, Simon didn't. a few months back, Gaz had walked into your bedroom by mistake, catching Simon between your legs completely devouring your pussy. it was embarrassing, but also really hot. so now, whenever the guys see Simon and you together, they always ask Simon, "did you have cat for dinner?"

stupid, immature joke really. and Simon got very annoyed with their childish antics, but also because he was so genuinely confused. the jokes didnt stop at him, your female friends on the base came up and asked you about a week after getting caught how good it feels, to make Simon talk to their boyfriends. you were sure Simon knew, but he wanted to protect your embarrassment similarly to how you wanted to protect his.

your hands gripped his shoulders, feeling his tongue dive deep into your hole, replacing his fingers that now worked against your clit. "f-fuck daddy.. keep going~" you whined, grinding your pussy onto his face. one thing about Simon, he loved loved loved sloppy head. giving or receiving. he wanted spit, your juices, his cum whatever it was everywhere. so when you began to grind your face harder onto him, he let out almost an animalistic growl, pulling you closer onto him. "thats it baby, fuck my face. feel good for me." he moaned below, looking up at your body as it jerked and twitched.

you went cross eyes as he went back to sucking on your clit, adding his two fingers back in your hole. at this pace, you were bound to coat his face in cum and were beyond worried at the noise you'd soon be making. but Simon didnt care. not this time at least. something about fucking you next door while important meetings were happening was thrilling to him, made him grow hard in his pants, the cool wet spot nor pressing against his tip. "d-daddy..m'gonna c..cum" you cried, hands going back to gripping the edge of the table. "come on princess. fucking cum.. show daddy how good you feel" he said, his grip on your tightening.

his praises kept coming and soon, your cum covered his lower face, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your pussy as you came down from the high, occasionally sucking your clit. your body twitched above him, your hand practically suffocating you as you tried to silence those whimpers. he rose from between your legs, licking his lips clean of your cum. "so fucking tasty baby. makes me wanna fuck that tight little cunt of yours on this table. you want that?" he asked, unbuckling his pants, his hard on springing free. his tip was still slightly wet from the little incident in his pants, more pre cum pooling at the tip. it was beyond hot, and you subconsciously spread your legs apart. "please daddy~" you cooed, looking up at him innocently.

he cursed under his breath, pumping his dick. " say it again baby." he whispered, moving his tip up and down your pussy. "please daddy, please fuck me~ im so desperate for it daddy pl- fuck!" his hips slammed into yours before you could even finish your sentence. his hand was quick to find your throat, pulling out before slamming back in. " so fucking sexy baby. so fucking desperate." he moaned, his free hand gripping your boob. your legs were quick to find his hips, hugging him closer. "fuck daddy you feel s-so good!" you cried out, no longer ashamed of the people next door.

usually, Simon would be very anxious about that. but now, he didnt care. he wanted them to hear. his hips moved quicker into you, looking at your boobs bounce. as much as he told himself not to look, he was beyond horny and wanted to cum inside you so. fucking. bad. "taking my cock so fucking well baby.. gonna fuck my kids in you.. get you fucking..fucking pregnant with the boys next door." he groaned, almost too loud.

you clenched around him, your pussy pulling him back in every time he slid out. he was obsessed. the way your pussy squelched every time he slid back in, your pussy clenching around him every thrust. the way your whimpered 'daddy', clutching his arms. " k-keep going daddy im so cl..close~" you cried out, your back arching off the table. "im not fucking stoping baby, gonna keep fucking this wet pussy" he groaned, holding your hips down on the table, moving his hips at the same fast, deep pace.

the table began to shake with each thrust Simon gave you, only adding to the hotness of the situation. his head fell back into your neck, muffling the whimpers that came from him, his dick twitching inside you. he was close and he was trying his hardest to hold back. "s-shit baby im close.. gonna fill this pussy up.. make y-you walk back into that meeting fucking.. stuffed with my cum" he groaned, his grip on your growing tighter.

the knot in the pit of your stomach let loose, Simons hand quickly finding your mouth to silence the loud whimpers that slipped from you. his teeth dug into your skin yet again, his breath hitching as he shot his cum into you, quiet quiet whimpers coming from him. your legs tightened around his waist, wanting all of his cum inside. he gave slow thrusts, fucking his cum back into the deepest parts of you. your eyes rolled back, relaxing on the table. "s..shit." he whispered, hugging your body as he softened inside you.

"w-where can I get a shirt?" you mumbled, peeling your eyes open slowly. he slid out, watching a small amount of cum come out you. " here. take my hoodie." he said, standing up and off the table, pulling the large hoodie off him. under, was a tight white shirt and his dog tag. "they're probably about done in there. lets go get some food, yea?" he said, pulling you up slowly and helping you with the hoodie.

you smiled at the gesture, nodding. when you had it on you looked up at him, smiling. " we should do this more." you winked, fixing your bra over the hoodie. "dont count on it." he quickly replied, helping you off the table. he grabbed a paper towel, cleaning some of the mess that was on the table, and the rest that slid down your leg. pulling his mask back down, he took your hand, placing a soft kiss. " if the boys ask, you walk away from them." he said, walking to the door and slowly opening it. sure enough, Gas and Soap waited outside, resting against the wall.

" sir. I dont believe the dorms are in there." Gas said, tilting his head to the side, a small smirk on his face. Ghost was quick to turn away from them, speeding away from the both as they made the same joke they always did,

" I guess he had cat for lunch."

| I honestly hope you guys like this, I just have a random surge of writers block. I have so many drafts but I cannottttt seem to like them or like the theme so I really hope this was okay for you guys. feedback is always welcomed xoxo |

[heartpascal]

or is it loneliness?

▹— (eventual) spiderverse found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that.

▹— a/n: guys idk what im DOING. i have things planned for atsv but not how we’re gonna get there … rn im just yolo-ing. im not a big fan of this one but im gonna start writing the next one asap, which will hide fully be more found family-ish lmao arachnid is gonna start warming up to them all some day i swear

▹— warnings: angst, injuries, not good thoughts, dead parents, sensory issues, explosions, violence, fighting, blood?, damaged hearing for a good minute, peter b parker eating burgers deserves its own warning, food, mention of throwing up / nausea, insecurities about being good enough, refusing help, idk what else, if ive missed anything let me know!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree (everything taglist) @justmare @uniquemonstrosity @lacunaanonymoused @erensbbg @dulceteris @noxxing @escherichiacolli @ray-rook @i-3at-kidz @miwagila @stoneforests (is it freedom’verse) — also i only tagged those who explicitly asked to be tagged!

MASTERLIST , part one

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You spend a long time sat on the edge of the open window, staring out at the traffic below after getting back from Spider Society HQ. There’s a tangible relief that comes with returning to your dimension, like a weight being removed, a tension that is finally released from where it had been pulled taut. Your shoulders feel just as heavy as they did when you left, but you try not to think about it. You try to be happy that you’re back.

While you wouldn’t say it aloud, and you hate to even have the thought, you don’t think anybody had noticed you were gone. But then again, who would? You have no reason to be so upset about such a thing.

Time slips by as you diligently sew up the tears in your suit, frowning as you hold it up once you’re finished. It looks nothing like it used to, but then again, neither do you. Things have changed, it only makes sense that your suit would, too. You wonder if travelling through alternate dimensions can alter your perception of things. You’d swear that your suit had been a different shade before you left, lighter, maybe, but you have nothing to compare it to.

At least now, this time, when you put on your suit there is evidence of damage that Gwen Stacy had caused. The stitching along your the material where she had tore into you is a tangible thing, physical, and you run your fingers across it as if it might disappear. It’s almost a relief, to be able to feel where she had caused you pain, as opposed to the invisible ache she had left within you after fighting her the first time around.

Alongside the scar raised on your body, the fight with Gwen had left you with a sort of paranoia. An uncertainty in the back of your mind that has you glancing over your shoulder, has you messing up simple manoeuvres as you panic, thinking you hear her voice.

It must have been your third day back from the HQ that you come to the conclusion that you have to visit Gwen Stacy in her prison.

The decision doesn’t come easily. It comes slowly, torturously so, a realisation that deafens you as you glare through squinted lenses at the city around you. You won’t be able to go on like this, getting yourself hurt in stupid ways all because you’re not certain that she’s back in her prison. You’re meant to be a hero, which means that messing up, despite whatever paranoia that lingers in the back of your head, is unacceptable. It has consequences.

Seeing her in the flesh will likely be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Except, maybe, not killing her when you caught her in that other dimension. You keep your mind on the fact that she won’t be able to touch you, that she’ll be walled away, to reassure yourself that there is no risk of either of you hurting the other — at least, physically.

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

No, the hardest part is stepping back into an identity that you had lost your grasp on, long ago. You wear your old clothes, clothes that you hadn’t put on in months, and try to remember how it felt to be you, rather than Arachnid.

“Hi, Mrs. Stacy.” You say, when the door to an all too familiar apartment opens just a slither, and you catch sight of her wrinkled eyes. There’s a noticeable change to them when she realises who you are, and she’s slamming the door shut, undoing the chain, and reopening it before you can say another word.

She whispers your name like she can’t believe it’s you — and you can’t blame her.

You had disappeared, months ago, after the death of your father. Going missing was far easier than being placed in a foster system that would only hold you back. It had been so much easier, not having to face anyone, not having to speak at his funeral.

“Hi.” You repeat, when her stare lingers in the silence for far too long. The sound of your voice once again breaks her out of her trance, and she’s rushing forward to pull you into her arms as if you were her child. You suppose, in some ways, it was quite a lot like that. At the very least, your presence will remind her of the daughter she had lost.

“Where have you been? Oh, honey, I was so worried.” Mrs. Stacy says, her voice trembling by your ear as she squeezes you tight, unfazed by your lack of reciprocation. “Come inside, please.”

You follow her through the doorway, closing the door behind you as you had done so many times before. Not looking around at the apartment is near impossible, but you’re not sure how much familiarity you can take. Even just seeing Mrs. Stacey’s aged face makes your chest ache, your legs feeling shaky.

“Sit down, honey, let me get you a warm drink.” She says, a tremor to her voice as she bustles towards the kitchen which is adjoined to the living room. The news plays on the television, and you’re glad to hear a weather report, rather than some city-wide attack. Mrs. Stacy is quiet as she goes through the process of making your favourite drink, but with your enhanced hearing you listen to the telltale clink of a spoon against ceramic. You listen closely to her hitched breathing as her footsteps pad back into the room. “Here.” She hands you the warm mug, and you don’t comment on the way her hand shakes.

“Thank you.” You say, though it feels stilted, wrong, too formal. It’s hard to be normal in this setting, to be whoever you used to be, especially as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Mrs. Stacy stares at you for a long while before she speaks again, as if she’s still not sure that you’re real. “Where have you been? After—After your dad… we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you safe? Do you need help?” She asks, frantic once she’s gotten started on her questions.

“Mrs. Stacy, I’m fine, really.” You lie, smiling tightly over the rim of the mug as you hold it towards your face. Before, you would’ve burnt your tongue drinking it too fast, but you’re hesitant to drink it at all. The last thing you want is to become too familiar to your old life. “I’ve been staying with some friends, downtown. It’s been good.”

She raises a brow at you, and stares for a moment longer. “Honey… you don’t look well.” She tells you, and raises the back of her hand to press it against your forehead. Her frown only deepens when you flinch away from the touch. You try not to curse yourself too much, but can’t help reprimanding the way you hadn’t anticipated such an action.

The skin on your forehead is clammy, but that’s just the anxiety, the nerves at being back here. Arachnid can’t get sick.

“Listen, I… I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.” You say, hesitantly, gripping the warm mug tight between your hands, but loosen your fingertips against the ceramic when you hear a minute crack.

Mrs. Stacy furrows her brows, looking more concerned by the second, but nods. “Of course, anything.” She tells you, and places one of her hands against yours on the mug.

“I was hoping I could visit Gwen.” You voice, after one last moment of hesitation. The way her face immediately crumples at the request doesn’t give you much hope, especially as her hand withdraws from your own. “I—I know you don’t get to see her very often, and maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know. I wanted some kind of closure, I guess.” You ramble on in response to her silence, glaring down at the liquid still swirling in your mug.

“Honey,” Mrs. Stacy interrupts, her voice soft in contrast to the way yours was growing in volume. You quiet immediately, your gaze drawn up to where her tearful eyes stare at you, her expression almost mourning. “I would never deny you that, but you should know… I haven’t visited Gwenny since she was put in there.” She admits, her stare dropping to her lap, almost ashamed.

“Oh,” You voice, softly, in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed— I—I mean, I can’t even imagine—”

“No, don’t be silly, how would you have known?” She replies, raising her eyebrows at you strictly. “Now, I can get you that visit. I’ll call my attorney first thing tomorrow, but… really, honey, do you need me to call someone for you? Who are these friends?”

Her voice is familiar, and it’s kind, which makes it all the more painful. It’s strange, seeing the resemblance between her and the Green Goblin, and it makes a part of you ache. Your life wasn’t the only one torn apart by Gwen. In fact, her mother probably faced the worst of it. With her husband being long gone, her oldest son away at college, youngest withdrawn after her daughter became a homicidal maniac, who did she really have left? Who was looking after Helen Stacy?

You smile at her, as best as you can without tearing up, and reach out to grasp her hand, which she readily accepts. “I’m okay, Mrs. Stacy, I… It’s just a few friends of my dad, from his home town. Their kids, too. It’s better than being put in the system.” You tell her, and can only hope that she believes you. You have no way to back up these lies, knowing those friends of your father don’t exist.

“You could’ve stayed here, you know?” She says, teary and squeezing your hand so tightly you can hear your bones creaking. You smile sadly at her.

“You’re a much stronger person than me, Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t even face my dad’s funeral, let alone be around the memories of somebody I lost. This place, it—it reminds me of her.” You explain, voice shaking as you hold back your own tears, swallowing them down and trying to breathe through the ache in your throat.

The way her heart breaks is almost loud enough for you to hear it, but she nods her head understandingly, regardless. “Of course,” She says, nodding still, “But know you always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay.” You respond, heart clenching so tightly you’re not sure it can pump your blood any longer.

“Now, what’s your number? Your old phone was disconnected.” She says, shaking her tears away to pull out a pad and pen from the coffee table. She sets the notepad against her knee, looking expectantly toward you.

“Oh, right,” You stutter, teeth chattering as you comb your mind for the number of your burner phone. “There was a mixup, because it was in my dad’s name.” You explain needlessly, still searching your mind for the answer. Finally, you remember it. You listen to her ballpoint pen scrape along the paper as she writes the numbers as you say them, and then she clicks the pen off after writing your name beside it, underlining it twice.

“How about I give you a call with the details of your visit, okay, honey?” She asks, nodding with a pleased hum at your affirmative. “Good. Stay for dinner, okay? I’ve missed you.”

Who are you to deny her that?

Though, even as you try to pretend that you help to set up the table for her benefit, and as you hug Gwen’s little brother tightly when he comes home for his, you know, deep down, that it’s for you. That this is a moment of selfishness that you’ll let yourself have, because god, you deserve it, don’t you?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It’s thirteen days post Spider Society discovery, and you’re starting to regret the way you discarded that watch so carelessly. Not because you want to be a part of some cult of superheroes, but because you wish you had asked some more questions.

Surely Miguel O’Hara must’ve known a way to stop these villains from appearing in other universes? And if he did, had he already implemented whatever it was to stop Gwen escaping again? How exactly did she escape the first time? Was it a coincidence? Is there somebody out there, working behind the scenes, helping her get out?

You, unfortunately, have no way to answer any of the burning questions nagging at the back of your head. While a part of you hopes that you never see any of the Spider Society weirdos again, you also desperately want answers. Especially if it meant you could call off your visit to Gwen Stacy.

But the day arrives as any other does, and you spend every moment before the drive over to the prison desperately hoping that one of the Spider-people will show their face. None of them do, and you’re left to get into Mrs. Stacy’s car and simply brace for the journey ahead.

You’re pretty sure that swinging would be quicker, or easier, but you had no way to explain that way of transport to an interrogating Mrs. Stacy, and so you had to relent to her insistence on driving you. Now, you sit here, shifting in the seat of the car, uncomfortable without your suit underneath the clothes you used to wear on a daily basis. Even the knowledge that it’s stuffed into the bottom of your tattered backpack in the boot of Mrs. Stacy’s car doesn’t bring you any comfort.

Instead, the rough material of an old jacket has your skin crawling like you were being bitten by a thousand mosquitos, and the trousers on your legs itch like you’re allergic to them.

You suppose, really, that the spider bite that gave you so many powers had to have more drawbacks than just destroying your life. It only makes sense that your heightened senses would extend to the receptors on your skin. It makes every movement in these clothes torturous, and you wonder if it had always been this way, or if you were just so unused to wearing your old style of clothes. Either way, you hope that you won’t have to wear them for much longer.

If it all goes to plan, you should be in and out of the prison, just ensuring that Gwen Stacy is actually in the cell as she’s supposed to be. Then you just have to endure the fifty minute drive back to the city with Mrs. Stacy, and you’re free. You won’t have to wear these clothes again, won’t have to use your name, no — you can just sink back into the half life that is being Arachnid. It’s better that way.

“Okay, honey, here we are.” Mrs. Stacy says at last, having shifted her car into park. She pointedly avoids looking at the looming high-security prison ahead, instead focusing on you as you wipe your sweaty palms against your trousers. “Now you take as much time as you need in there, alright? I’ll be just out here, if you need me.”

You smile tightly at her, nodding with what you hope is more of a grateful expression rather than a grimace. “Thank you, Mrs. Stacy, really. I appreciate it, more than you know.”

That much was true — after all, it wasn’t like you could tell her that she was allowing the vivid paranoia you had been experiencing to be put to rest after her daughter escaped to another universe. Mrs. Stacy, from what you could gather, didn’t even know that Gwen had been missing for any amount of time. She had no idea what Gwen had done, how many more people she had hurt, but you assured yourself that it was better that way. Mrs. Stacy already had to deal with plenty, and that knowledge surely wouldn’t help.

She was already dealing with her own grief and feelings on the situation, as well as trying to support her two sons in the matter. Given what Gwen’s little brother had asked of you when he found out about you visiting her, you knew that he hadn’t been to visit Gwen, either. It seemed that he wasn’t coping with it all very well.

“Of course, you’re family. You should know that by now.” She says, smiling with teary eyes, reaching across the console to grasp your hand tightly in her own.

Her words take a stab at your chest, especially considering what had happened to everybody else who had seen you as family. Dead parents, villainous best friend — it really didn’t bode well for your loved ones. You just reassured yourself with the fact that you’d be able to disappear as soon as the two of you returned to the city. You couldn’t put her in any danger, that way, or her remaining kids.

“I’ll—I’ll see you after, okay?” You respond, squeezing her hand in return before quickly letting go and throwing open the car door, getting out and catching a slither of Mrs. Stacy’s surprised reply before you shut the car door.

There are guards waiting for you at the gates, checking you are who you say you are, scanning you for weapons before you even get in the building. They’re satisfied after their searches, content that you weren’t stupid enough to bring a weapon into a highly secure prison. You keep your focus on your breathing as they walk you in, handing you clothes to change into as well as a box to put all of your belongings in.

The scrub-like clothes they give you are even worse than your own, sending shivers up and down your spine at the feeling of each fibre scraping against your skin. You just try to breathe through it. Luckily, the rest of the security checks blur by, which means less time spent on agonising over this visit. You barely hear a word of the statement they read to you before you go in, and your hand cramps as you write your signature against a dotted line of a waiver. All of the other legal things were sorted out by Mrs. Stacy’s lawyer, which you are more than thankful for.

Instead of having to deal with that, you just have to wait.

You think that the waiting might be the worst part of it all. With the scrubs making your hairs raise and promoting uncomfortable shivers up and down your body, as well as the cold metal seat that they sat you on, you’re far too aware of everything around you. You can hear the hundreds of heartbeats in the buildings, the beeping of security doors, the footsteps heading your way. You can smell the coffee that the head guard in the adjoining room to the one you’re in is drinking, as well as the day-old sandwich in his desk. Worst of all is the way your own heartbeat is thrumming in your throat, padding harshly against your chest, so loud in your own ears that it slowly starts to drown out everything around you.

Gwen’s footsteps are heavy, accompanied by the clinking of the chains she’s shackled in. You can practically hear the maniacal laughter that had come from her whilst in that alternate dimension, even though she’s completely silent as she enters the room.

She smiles at you when you look up, and for a moment you’re fooled — it’s soft, gentle, kind. But then you see the glimmer in her eyes that was distinctly not Gwen, and you feel the scar along your side throbbing with phantom pain.

You smile tensely at the guards, who regard you with looks of gentle concern and caution, before they attach her chains to a link on the floor beside a chair three metres away from where you sit. They nod at you, which you return, and you watch as they go and take their positions beside the door before you move your eyes back to the elephant in the room — which is Gwen Stacy.

“So, you missed me?” She asks, baring her teeth in a grin that has too much teeth to be anything friendly. Gwen regards you closely as you stare at her, watch for any signs of flickering, any signs that this isn’t real. Her brows raise slowly, the longer you’re silent, but you’re in no hurry to talk. “No? Is that not it?”

“Sure, I miss you.” You respond after another stretch of silence, tilting your head to study her more closely. You don’t acknowledge the way that your voice shakes as you speak, the way it comes out in something closer to a croak before you swallow harshly against your dry throat. “Thought I’d come to check in.” You add, brows furrowing to make sure she gets your true meaning.

“Ah,” She voices, then laughs, shoulders shaking, chains clanking loudly against her metal chair. “I get it, now.”

Gwen doesn’t add anything else after that, even though you suspected that she may take this opportunity to loudly claim that you were Arachnid, outing your identity once and for all. Apparently, if she does want to out your identity, she doesn’t want to do it like this, as she stays silent until you speak.

You sit forward on your chair, ignoring the way the guards at the edges of the room shift uneasily at your movement. “Your mom arranged this for me, you know?” You say, eyebrow raised. She probably knows what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just shifts to lean backwards in her own chair, sighing as if relaxing.

“Hmm, so she can visit.” Gwen says, nodding her head as if it’s all making sense now.

“She can, she just doesn’t want to. Neither does Georgie.” You respond, and find satisfaction in the way her eyes flash at the mention of her little brother, the nickname that the two of you both used to call him. She recovers quickly, but you can tell that she knows it wasn’t quick enough. The Green Goblin cracked, right in front of your very eyes. It’s proof that, if anything, her little brother has some meaning. “He wanted me to tell you something.”

Her head tilts across from you, though she doesn’t move from her laid back position.

You clear your throat, and look at the words you’d written on your skin. She tilts her head forwards the slightest amount, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at the guards who look just as uncomfortable as you feel. “He said that he misses his Gwenny, but he doesn’t want you coming home.” You stare at her as you repeat his message, the one he had told you nervously, as if he was truly afraid that Gwen would escape and come back. Her eyes twitch as she focuses on keeping her expression cool, but you know that the words have hit something in her, even if it’s part of the Green Goblin. “Looks like you even ruined your own family.”

You’re up on your feet as she lurches forwards, flung backward from where she tried to go against her chains to rush toward you. The guards are in front of you in mere moments, but you weren’t in any danger. Not as long as she stayed in here.

It’s almost satisfying, to see her chained up. It’s so different to seeing the Green Goblin on the outside, where she could be your Gwen Stacy. Whereas in here, bound by chains of heavy metal, clothed in uncomfortable looking prisoner scrubs, she was nothing but the Green Goblin. It was reassuring, almost, to be able to pick apart something physical between the two.

She bares her teeth at you, animalistic in a way that Gwen never was, and glares at you as you follow one of the guards out of the room, the others closing in on her, ready to take her back to whatever cell she came from.

The clothes you wear become less overbearing as you keep your focus on the guards taking Gwen away the whole way back through security, only switching back to your surroundings when they hand you the tray of your own belongings to change back into. You’re relieved for many reasons, and you try to focus on that feeling as you approach Mrs. Stacy’s car rather than the way your jacket itches.

Mrs. Stacy looks as if she wants to speak as you get in the car, as if she wants to ask about your visit, but she seemingly can’t bring herself to do it. You keep your mouth shut.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Not a month later, your daily activities are back to normal, uninhibited by the daunting idea of Gwen being free. Still, though, you think about her more often, as much as you did in the time after she was put away the first time.

Mrs. Stacy had tried to call you more than once since, and at the two week mark you’d had to invest in a new burner phone. You just couldn’t risk anybody getting a hold of it and seeing her contact, or the ringer going off and exposing your position in a fight. No, it was better for her not to have your number. Besides, you had hers memorised if you needed to call her.

It was better if you tried to reduce any connections to Gwen Stacy. You’d be much better off, the less you thought about her.

Despite knowing that, you couldn’t help it. And despite seeing that crack in the Green Goblin exterior at her little brother’s words, you didn’t have much hope for her. You don’t think they’d let her out of prison even if you could find a cure, somehow. The fact of it was that Gwen Stacy’s life was over. She had no hope of a future in this world, the Goblin had destroyed that. All you could do was remember her and hope beyond anything that in one of those alternate dimensions, you and Gwen were happy together.

The thought of it played on your mind every day, a lingering pain that stung at your eyes. You thought about it so much that you had even imagined the world where Gwen had never become the Goblin, where you and your Gwen were happy. It was a suffocating image, one without any hope of being true, but you couldn’t help thinking about it.

Even as you fought villain after villain, petty criminal after petty criminal, you thought about it. Even now, as you were swinging around a bridge, dodging all the debris this villain was throwing your way, it played on your mind.

It was a distraction, and it was one you needed to get rid of.

That much became certain as the villain you were facing, Tombstone, managed to get a hit on you, sending you flying across the bridge. You landed on a car with a groan, the windshield cracking below you, and you rolled your eyes as the person in the car held a hand on their horn until you managed to climb off, a distinct Arachnid-shaped dent left in the bonnet.

Well, that would be aching tomorrow, that much was for sure.

He grinned where he was stood across the bridge from you, showing off his filed teeth, as if trying to intimidate you with the pointy edges of them.

“You’ve been a formidable foe, Arachnid,” Tombstone says, his voice barely a whisper above the wind, but you can hear him perfectly. You suspect he knows as much, and that only makes you nervous. “But I think it’s time for our battle to come to an end.”

“I actually agree.” You respond, stretching your aching back and feeling a bone shift when it definitely shouldn’t. You can’t help but wince, gritting your teeth and glaring over at Tombstone across the bridge.

You’re getting tired of these villains, of their constant spiel about how the world should be, about how everything should be how they wanted it to be. What was so wrong with the human population that everybody couldn’t just get along? Surely, if everybody got along, listened to each other, the world’s problems would be solved. But then again, this is New York, and it’s a city in which greed is bred.

A light press against your webshooter has you slinging high up on the bridge, staring down at Tombstone as he watches you intently. You’re planning your next move, considering all the variables, when a burst of orange manifests into the air behind him. He looks confused as you falter in your web slinging, dropping slightly before you catch yourself, and he turns around just in time to receive a curled fist to the face, courtesy of a familiar man in a red and blue suit.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You murmur, lowering yourself to the bridge to approach this Spiderman, glaring at where Tombstone stands, straining against a red barrier that had materialised from the device Spiderman had placed at his feet.

“I hate that guy!” The familiar voice of Peter B. Parker says, shaking his fist as he hops slightly from one foot to the other, his lenses squinted before he finally turns to acknowledge you. “That guy sucks.”

Your brows are furrowed, eyes squinted behind your lenses as you stare at Peter, confused. This Tombstone guy isn’t an anomaly, is he? While you hadn’t faced him before, you knew that there had been a battle between him and another vigilante down in Hell’s Kitchen. And he knew your name, hadn’t been calling you Spiderman like the last anomaly. So why was he here?

Peter sighed, as if he was disappointed to be met with your confusion. “You got a place, kid? Or a burger joint, maybe?”

With that same amount of confusion, you nodded, brows furrowed as cops came to collect Tombstone, who was still in a fit of rage. You can just barely hear him swearing to get you back, both of you, through the barrier. Peter gestured a hand forwards for you to lead the way, and with slight hesitation, you swung off with him following.

Now, the two of you are sat in a Shake Shack, despite you wanting to head back to the offices you were set up in. Peter had ordered two burgers, one for you and one for him, though you had decidedly rejected the one he pushed towards you. He had only shrugged, and accepted it onto his own plate.

“My wife’s pregnant, can’t even stand the smell of these.” Peter groans, stuffing what must’ve been at least a quarter of the burger in his mouth. You just nod at his statement, though you had to admit you were slightly surprised that this guy was going to be a dad. But then again, you’re pretty sure you can remember your dad scoffing down his favourite food in a similar way. “Now listen,” He continues, speaking with his mouthful and paying you no mind as you cringe at the sound. “Miguel wants to strike a sort of… deal with you.”

“Okay?” You respond, brows furrowed. You look around the place, uncomfortable with all the people staring at Arachnid in a booth beside an old man stuffing his face. The lenses of your mask squint with you as you look at Peter, waiting for him to add anything on to explain his statement. “Then why’d he send you?” You ask, at last, when Peter makes no move to speak of his own free will, too engrossed in his second burger.

Peter held up a finger, gulping down a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Said something about this being good practice for me,” Peter eventually answers, flashing you a smile. “You know, being a new dad and all.”

He seems to realise quickly that that was the wrong thing to say as your eyes narrow further, visible only through the shift of your lenses. The last thing you need is some random guy trying to father you. Even just the idea of it irritates you, makes the very blood rushing in your veins feel hot with anger. You had a dad, and look what good that did you. He’s gone.

Not to mention the implication of you being a child! You’re far from being a kid. You’ve been looking after yourself for some time now just fine. Whatever deal Miguel wants to strike with you is because they need you. Not the other way around. You knew that you shouldn’t have let that Spider-doctor fix you up.

“I’m not some kid. I don’t need you lot, you need me. Don’t get it all twisted, Peter.” You respond as he continues to look like a deer in headlights, clearly kicking himself for revealing what Miguel had said. You keep your voice low, fighting to stay unheard with the quietened air in the diner. “Now hurry up and tell me about whatever bullshit deal you want to strike with me, so I can say no and we can go our separate ways.”

“Kid,” Peter sighs, before immediately wincing as he realised he just directly disregarded your statement about not being a kid. “Sorry, Arachnid,” He corrects, settling his hands on the table in front of him, finally taking a break from his almost-finished food. “Nobody’s saying you can’t do this.”

“Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying.” You mutter, averting your eyes from Peter and instead narrowing your lenses at the people still staring in your direction.

“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t have to do this alone,” He continues, ignoring your interruption with nothing but a quirked brow. “It’s a tough job. Everybody needs someone to look out for them, you know? It’s in our nature to feel responsible for everything around us, as Spider-people. But you can’t carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s too much!”

You stare blankly at him, remaining unimpressed with his whole speech.

Peter sighs once more, looking at you with hesitant hope that you’ll come around. Unfortunately, you’re not about to let these people think that you’re incapable. If anything, Peter’s little speech was just adding fuel to your fire. You liked proving people wrong — it’s what you thrived on. You needed to prove them wrong. Because if you didn’t, what did that make you? You couldn’t let people be right about their assumptions of you. If you couldn’t prove everybody wrong, then that meant some of the things people said about you were right. And with the amount of people who accused you of being responsible for more deaths than you saved, who portrayed you as a menace rather than a vigilante, who said you weren’t worthy of your powers, who said whatever divine intervention had given them to you was wrong, you couldn’t let them be right. You wouldn’t.

“I already told you people. I’m not interested.” You spit out at him, feeling your frustration brimming over the edge. Why would nobody just trust you? Was that so much to ask? You understand that you had made mistakes, that you had cost people their lives, but you were trying. Why couldn’t that just be enough?

Peter says nothing as you slide out of the booth, stomping your way out of the Shake Shack as if you were some kind of grumpy teenager. He could only hope that his unborn child was a less grumpy teen, but then again, he was pretty sure you had every right to be miserable. Correcting himself, he could only hope that his unborn child never experienced your reasons for being so miserable.

You make your way towards your office building, swinging through the streets whilst doing your best to keep your heightened hearing down. You really didn’t want to have to deal with anything else, tonight. All you wanted was to get back, to put on the only clothes other than your suit that didn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin. Even if it was just for an hour, you’d take it.

While you had gotten used to how quiet it was in the building a long time ago, you couldn’t help but think that tonight, it felt almost… eerie. There was something tingling, buzzing at the very base of your skull, but even as you strained your hearing, your sight, everything, you couldn’t detect anything out of place. Everything seemed normal, so you couldn’t understand why you were so on edge! It couldn’t just be Peter’s presence, surely, because he posed no threat to you. So what was going on?

Picking up your backpack filled with belongings, you stared around at the empty office, the breeze that flowed through the open window sending a shiver down your spine, even though you weren’t feeling cold. Something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello? Anybody there?” You call out, straining your hearing once more, trying to listen out for even the slightest sound. A movement, a breath, anything, even as you couldn’t help but think that this was the most cliché horror movie like moment that you had experienced to date. Still, you heard nothing, but that nagging feeling didn’t dissipate, and you quickly lost all desire to change out of your suit.

The unease you felt only grew stronger as you stood there, unsure what to make of the feeling. It was quickly growing towards being overwhelming, but you didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to make a decision.

Unfortunately, the decision was made by one of the very people you were trying to prove yourself to.

Peter B. Parker — or at least, you were pretty sure it was him — swung through the very same window you had, only to grasp a hold on your arm and pull you out of the window as he jumped straight back out of it.

Now, you had been Arachnid for a long time now. You had gotten used to the swinging, to the way your stomach dipped and your throat tightened, but you had never experienced it where you weren’t the one in control. Finally, you understand why people you brought to safety had, on occasion, thrown up immediately after you set them down on their feet again. The feeling of falling, of having no choice but to trust somebody else to catch you, it was terrifying.

But what was infinitely more terrifying was the way that the very floor of the building you had just been stood on exploded.

The blaze was blinding, even with your lenses protecting your eyes, but the noise that came moments later was much, much worse. And sure, you had been around explosions before, but never one that big, never so close. And never so unprepared for one.

Your ears were ringing, and you vaguely realised that you had become dead weight in your shock, with Peter struggling to keep his grasp on your arm firm. After a moment, you had the sense to grab his forearm in return, trying to assist him in holding you up. He didn’t seem as effected by the explosion in comparison to you, and you wondered if he’d had the time to put earbuds in his ears as you had sometimes done before a fight. Either way, you were insanely envious as the pain in your ears increased, leaving you struggling to focus on holding on to Peter.

When he set you down, which couldn’t have been more than a minute after he had grabbed you, considering you could still see the office building smouldering, you had to hold a hand over your mouth even over your mask, trying to rid yourself of nausea. Smoke was leaking into the darkening sky, and you saw the flash of sirens below, but heard nothing other than the distinctive ringing that felt like it was melting your brain.

Peter’s hand was squeezing your shoulder, and after a moment in which you didn’t acknowledge him, he was gripping your other shoulder with his spare hand, shaking you the slightest bit. You looked up at him with a groan, squinting past the floating lights in your vision to see that his mouth was moving, no sound coming out. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. You dropped your chin to your chest again, hands bracing against your ears as if they could ease your pain, and you didn’t make a move as Peter removed one hand from your shoulder.

Mere moments later, the same tingling you had felt before the building you were in exploded returned, stronger, more intensely. Your head snapped up, frantically looking around, paying Peter no mind as he spoke into the orange-glowing watch on his wrist. You breathed through your nose, trying not to cough at the smoke permeating the air, and you just managed to push Peter over the edge of the roof of the building, with you diving after him, as another explosive went off.

That explosion was smaller than the last one, and the only reason you had managed to avoid it was because you knew it was coming. You knew what the alarm bells in your head were trying to tell you now, and you spotted the projectile just seconds before it reached your feet.

Part of you was glad that your senses were dulled from the first explosion — your hearing, especially, as it meant you were less effected by the close-range on this one. You saw Peter’s eyes widen as he looked up above you at where the explosion had just occurred. You just about managed to web him before shooting a web towards the next building, feeling something in your shoulder pull sharply with his extra weight and the suddenness of the move.

You squinted down at him as he gripped the web attached to his chest with one hand, his lips moving more frantically as he spoke to a hologram projected by the watch on his other hand.

“Shit, what is going on?” You asked, though mostly to yourself, but the only way you could tell you had even voiced the words was by the way they rumbled out of your throat. That explosion had messed up your hearing, for the moment, anyway, and you quickly realised that with your slow healing and the ringing in your ears, this fight was going to be majorly difficult.

You only had a moment to think that, before something snapped the web that was holding you to the building, sending both you and Peter falling through the air. Embarrassingly, you’re pretty sure that you let out a yell of some sort.

All the air was knocked out of you the next second as something hurtled into you, sending you careening towards the windows of the closest building. Peter, for a moment, had a shocked expression on his face, before he seemingly realised what was going on, smiling and letting out a string of words that you didn’t hear. You groaned as your sore back collided with the window, smashing upon your impact, and you were sent sprawling over a desk, a monitor breaking underneath your sudden weight.

Yet again, there was a hand against your shoulder, and you paid it no mind as your head dropped back, thudding against the desk. You couldn’t help but groan, the duress that your back had been under today was certainly taking its toll, leaving your whole spine throbbing with pain. On top of that, you were struggling to catch your breath, and with the sudden adrenaline provided by the spider-sense fading, the intensity of the pain in your ears was increasing.

Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Peter B. Parker looking at you, with Miguel O’Hara stood beside the shattered window, staring out menacingly, as if daring whoever it was to attack again. Peter said something else, squeezing your shoulder, and all you could do in response was hold up one thumb.

Miguel seemingly barked out an order over his shoulder, and a moment later, you were squinting against the bright orange light of a portal.

Peter was hauling you to your feet, leaning to hold one of your arms over his shoulder, practically carrying your weight towards the portal looming ahead. “No, no, wait,” You said, and you felt the way your words slurred as you became slightly delirious with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and desperation. “Stop, I gotta—”

He only shook his head, before tipping the two of you forward until you both fell into the portal.

The dizzying feeling of inter-dimensional travel definitely didn’t help the pounding in your temples, nor the nausea you had previously been feeling, and you had no choice but to try and focus on Peter’s grip on you as you squeezed your eyes shut. When the world finally stopped spinning, or feeling like it was falling away around you, you opened your eyes just enough to take note of where you were — which was back in the Infirmary of the Spider Society HQ.

You shook Peter off, standing on your own weight and waving him away when he tried to assist you as you swayed once more. You glared, eyes narrowed, and turned to head straight back through the portal you had come from, only to see it close before your very eyes.

The same Spider-Doctor from the last time you were here snapped a band around your wrist, and you squinted down at the red and blue band. It made you feel lighter, even slightly, which felt good on your aching bones and muscles. You opened your mouth to speak as the Spider-Doctor led you to sit down on an empty bed with white sheets, but you vaguely saw the way his mask shifted as he presumably spoke. You couldn’t tell what he was saying with his mask on, but a minute later, you felt a sharp prick against the inside of your elbow.

You just about had the lucidity to murmur “You fucker—” before you succumbed to the weight of your eyelids.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, it was to a throbbing pain in your forehead, that only got worse when you tried to open your eyes. At the very least, you were glad to have your hearing returned to you, albeit slightly muffled, which you were only aware of because the sound of voices across the room was the reason for you waking.

“I’m just saying, maybe knocking the kid out wasn’t the greatest idea!” Peter B. Parker’s annoyingly loud voice says, slightly high pitched in the end. Who he was saying it to, however, you couldn’t say, not without opening your eyes. And that didn’t feel like a good idea, the lights even with your eyes closed feeling like too much.

Instead, you just groan, bringing your hand up to rest over both of your eyes. “It wasn’t a great idea.” You say through gritted teeth, more than annoyed over the situation you found yourself in. Honestly, what did these people have against leaving you be? Why did they think they had any right to tell you what to do, or how to handle things, or to overrule you when it came to your own treatment?

“Hey, kid!” Peter responds, drawing the letters out in that typical oh shit voice. From the snippet of the conversation you had caught, at least he was seemingly trying to advocate for your consciousness. However, that didn’t change the fact that he was there when that Spider-Doctor knocked you out. No, you were still pissed. And when you got your hands on that doctor? He was in for it.

Any other thoughts or feelings on the matter were overturned when you realised that your hand was resting over your eyes, not the lenses of your mask.

Who do these people think they are?

You open your mouth to jump into a rant on that exact subject, on the audacity that they all have, but find yourself silenced by somebody grabbing onto your free wrist, and seemingly dropping your mask into your hand. You feel it until you’ve got it the right way around, and then pull it over your face.

The lights are much more bearable with your lenses back over your eyes, but it’s still painful, and still worsens that pounding in your head. But it does mean that you can see who’s around you; Peter, Miguel and the Spider-Doctor. You have half the mind to leap at that doctor, but Miguel is raising placating hands in your direction before you can make the move to do so.

“Let’s all calm down.” Miguel says, placing his hands on his hips when your eyes only narrow at him.

“What is wrong with you? Who gave you people the right to—to take off my mask? To knock me out? Hell, to come to my universe and get in my business!” You practically yell out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way your back hurts with the movement and glaring when the three of them step forward to help you.

“If Peter hadn’t gotten there when he did, you would’ve died.” Miguel responds plainly, seemingly aggravated by your irritation. One of his arms is raised in a gesture towards the man, who smiles almost guiltily, as if helping you was a crime. Which, in your mindset, it might as well have been. “There was an anomaly, a villain from another dimension targeting you.”

“I can handle myself.” You spit out, though the way the room spins when you stand is almost a direct contrast to your words. Your blood is rushing through your veins, and you realise that there’s a machine beeping next to you, increasing in frequency. As you look, you realise it’s measuring your heart rate, and you yank wires off of you that you hadn’t even noticed before, as if they were exposing you somehow. “And that doesn’t give you the right to take off my mask. Who does that?”

Spider-Doctor raises his hands, as if surrendering, though seems unintimidated by the way your glare switches to him. “It was necessary. Your hearing was severely damaged by the explosion, you needed treatment. You have dampening-buds in your ears now, while your healing catches up.” While that sounds reasonable, it only makes you angrier. Why did these people even care if some anomaly killed you? If your hearing was damaged? Why did they insist on bothering you?

Miguel sighs, pinching his nose, before he lifts his head up to speak to you again. You just about stop yourself from making a snotty comment about his attitude. You didn't even want to be here, and here he was, acting like dealing with you was such an inconvenience to him. It was frustrating. “Your universe seems to be at some sort of epicentre of anomalies, and we don’t know why. Yet.”

“We’re just trying to keep you safe. You can’t deal with all of those anomalies alone, nobody can. Sometimes, you need a team.” Peter says softly, like he could convince you of the matter. “Believe me, you don’t want to learn that the hard way.” He adds on, smiling almost hesitantly, as if there’s a memory he’s thinking of connected to his own words.

You’re sighing through your nose, your teeth gritting together as you regard them. “Okay, fine, you want to come take out your anomalies, or whatever? You do that. But anything more than that isn’t welcome.” You say, at last, your eyes narrowed towards them as you wait for their responses.

You still don’t really understand it, any of it, but it’s becoming clear that you have no choice but to deal with these people. Apparently, they were not budging on all of this stuff, which — fine, so long as they stay out of your way. The last thing you need is a bunch of Spider-people stepping on your toes, or making you seem incapable in front of the citizens of your own dimension when in the end, they’ll all up and leave.

After all, you can remember your mother telling you how important it is to do things yourself. The moment you start accepting help, you relax, and when they decide they don’t want to help you anymore? You’re screwed, your sense of independence reduced to ashes. And as Arachnid, there’s far too much at stake to risk that happening.

“Here,” Miguel says, only nodding his agreement — or at least, that’s what you assume the nod was for. He throws a watch towards you, and you catch it with some confusion. “In case you see any anomalies before we do.” He explains as he watches you fiddle witht he watch in both hands, glaring down at it as if it was offensive. He’s relatively satisfied when you relax at that explanation. While Miguel doesn’t voice what else it’s for, knowing you’d only get irritated and refuse the watch, he’s silently hoping that you’ll understand. It’s so you can come to them, if you need them. They can only hope that they’ll be able to tell you that, one day, before it’s too late, without the offer scaring you off.

“So, I’m good to go?” You ask, looking between the three Spider-Men still staring at you and the watch you hesitantly clasp around your wrist. They nod, or, Peter and Miguel do, while the Spider-Doctor throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“That dimension is yours,” Peter says, leaning over to see the screen of your watch. “The button at the bottom will input this dimension as the destination. Just press that,” He points to another button, “To open the portal to whichever dimension has been typed in.”

You nod, still pissed that he’d let the Spider-Doctor knock you out, but at least you didn’t give him a snarky comment. Instead, you just pressed the button to go back to your own dimension, and stepped through the portal the moment it was big enough for you to go through.

You didn’t expect for him to follow you through.

“Hey, listen,” Peter says, almost reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to upset you. When you turn to him, he raises his hands, as if to further prove that sentiment. “I am sorry that he knocked you out, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“Okay, fine, apology accepted.” You say, flatly, turning to survey where exactly you are. It doesn’t take you long to notice the remains of the building you had been camping out in, the building charred and the air still thick with all the smoke that had been produced.

“I wasn’t done,” Peter sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose momentarily. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry about your building. And I wanted to ask, well, mention about how when Doctor-Peter took off your mask, he noticed you don’t have anything protecting your ears, like other Spiders with your level of enhanced hearing do.”

You turn to stare blankly at him, while mulling through where exactly you’re going to stay in your head. If you’re being honest, you’re not paying his words much mind. So what, you don’t have anything protecting your hearing? Sure, sometimes you had stuffed earbuds into your ears when you knew you were going into a rough fight, but you didn’t know when some psycho exploded your building right in front of you. Plus, it’s not like you have unlimited resources to figure out some way of protected your ears under your mask while also letting you effectively use your hearing.

“Okay? And?” You ask, voice edging on the side of boredom. In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. You want to put on your comfy clothes, curl up into a ball and go to sleep so you can dream of a world where everything is okay. The likelihood of that happening is small, but not impossible, right?

“Well,” Peter hesitates then, which piques your interest the slightest bit. “Here, I had these made back when my hearing was crazy sensitive, but it’s not anymore, so I got no use for them!” He says, holding out two blue and red earbuds in a clear case. “You gotta wait until your ears are healed up to use ‘em, but I figured they’d do you more good than me.”

For a moment, you’re ready to deny him. To glare and insist that you don’t need his help. But then, he had said that they were originally for him, and he didn’t need them any longer, so really, would it be so bad to take them? To accept this one thing? To allow yourself to be saved of this tiniest bit of pain?

“You’re sure?” You ask, likely the least aggressive you’d spoken to him, though that’s not to say that it was asked softly. You were still firm on not accepting their help, on doing your own thing, but you could accept this much, surely? It couldn’t hurt.

Peter smiles, a short laugh leaving him, and he waves the box towards you. “I’m sure!”

“…Thanks.” You say, shortly, as you accept the earbuds offered to you. He also hands you the backpack that you had lost track of after the attack, and you accept that far more quickly. You’re glad that it feels the exact same weight as it did the last time you held it, before you shove the earbuds into the opening and zip it back up.

There’s a portal still open on the rooftop the two of you stand on, and Peter backs up to go towards it almost reluctantly. “Also, if you need somewhere to stay—”

“Don’t push it,” You respond, quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying. He doesn’t take offence to your abruptness, and smiles with a nod, before he disappears into the portal. You stare out at the city around you, looking in the direction of another building you had been very reluctant to return to. “What is my life?” You ask yourself, rhetorically, because you don’t know how you’d even answer that.

You glance behind you to ensure the portal is closed, before jumping off the rooftop, freefalling, relishing in the way the cold wind soothes the pain in your back. Before long, though, you have to shoot a web to catch yourself. You head towards the only place you know will be suitable for you, but can’t shake the way the thought of it chills you.

All you can do is hope that this multiverse stuff will be over with, and soon.

[eoieopda]

FINE I'M HERE TO REQUEST PART 3!!! In which Chan better really GET that promotion!!!!!!! Contract signed, payroll amended!!!!!

You can make it angsty if you like, AS LONG AS you promise there will be a happy ending (in this part or........ Another 👀)

the one with chan and the promotion (iii)

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free. now, being free is the last thing he wants.

part i. part ii.

pairing: bang chan x reader au: fuck buddies to lovers, hurt/comfort type: drabble (angst, fluff) rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my content. wc: 3.1k cw: mad!chan makes a brief appearance but otherwise remains the best boy; gn!reader (no gendered language used); reader may or may not show some degree of emotional availability (gasp!); due to the nature of their relationship, sex is referenced but not actually depicted; very briefly/incompletely edited, oops. a/n: i love you completely and am so fucking sorry it took four (4) months for me to finish this 😵‍💫 i have an epilogue i can offer in penance, if you want it! everyone else, please read the first two parts before reading this!

Chan may be an idiot, but at least he’s self-aware.

He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up; to expect that things would change quickly between you, if at all. Even though he saw the letdown coming from a kilometer away, he didn’t do a thing to brace himself for it. It’s his fault, he knows, for exaggerating his place in your life — but that doesn’t make the disappointment bruise any less when the week after your wisdom teeth removal flies by in radio silence.

The lack of conversation isn’t for lack of trying. As he scrolls through your half-vacant text thread now, Chan feels all his efforts staring back at him. All those attempted check-ins marked delivered but not well-received. Swings and misses.

Prior to sending each one of them, he spent minutes upon minutes agonizing over the tone — and the use of emojis — and the possible implications of the proposed emojis — and the fear that he’d just come off clingy, not invested. Reading the finished versions back now, he can recall with perfect accuracy the drafts he typed out and immediately, feverishly deleted. Considering the way they litter his brain, there may as well be a trail of crumpled-up notes in all that metadata.

Does it make Chan cringe to look back and watch himself flatline? Absolutely.

Does that stop him from salting his own wounds? Nope. It never has and likely never will.

Maybe, he figures, he’ll spot where he went wrong and find a way to un-dig this ditch he’s seemingly made.

[Sent 2024/7/23, 15:22] Just got home. Have you fallen back asleep already? Lol 

Naver says your swelling might be kind of bad tomorrow. Do you need ice packs? I have the gel kind that you can mold. Might be more comfortable than a bag of ice cubes 🤔 Lmk!

[Sent 2024/7/25, 08:03] Hi, Hamtori 🐹 How are your cheeks?

I made too much gamjaguk again. I can drop some off if

[Sent 2024/7/26, 17:49] Graduate to solid foods yet?

I hope the antibiotics aren’t making your stomach upset

DON’T LAUGH but I made you a super chill Spotify playlist with healing vibes to

Idk if you remember, but I promised to take you out for pork belly next week. If you’re up for it, are you free on

I miss y

[Sent 2024/7/29, 00:16] Hey

Or maybe, he thinks, he’ll just beat his head against his bedroom wall instead; and eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like to be yours for the day, rather than a night.

Four more days pass without a word from you. Under normal circumstances, one of you would’ve invited the other over at least twice in the eleven days since your dental appointment. No matter how infrequently the two of you chatted outside of your recurrent trysts, neither one of you has ever gone this long without summoning the other.

Something is wrong.

At this point, Chan sees two explanations for the way you’ve fallen completely off the grid: you’ve either succumbed to some tragic, post-op. complication and died, or he’s irreparably fucked something up with you without knowing how or when he misstepped. Neither one of those is an outcome he’s willing to accept. 

The voice in his head nags him so forcefully and consistently that his body eventually gives in. Undeterred by his better judgment, Chan lets it guide him up, out, and onward until he winds up on the sidewalk outside his building.

On the walk to your apartment, he mulls over the foreseeable consequences of the actions he’s already set in motion. It’s certifiably insane to pop in you like this, and once again, he only sees two options: you’ll slam the door in his face, or he’ll confirm once and for all that you’ve left this mortal coil. Bad on all counts, really, but anything is better than nothing.

His timing, as it turns out, couldn’t be better. Right as he lands at the front door, when he needs to think of a way to get in without buzzing you, a neighbor he’s seen once or twice before opens it to leave. Politely, they hold it open for him, likely mistaking him for someone with any right to be there — someone whose primary to you actually makes sense. Chan thanks them with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile before slipping through the opening.

As the elevator ascends, his fingers move of their own accord, anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the stainless steel wall he leans against. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. There’s a flash of something else there, too, though. Something even more nerve-wracking than all his catastrophizing; something that makes his stomach flip.

Hope.

“Oi, none of that,” he mutters to himself.

It doesn’t work. When Chan approaches the doors in the second before they open, he makes eye contact with his reflection and sees that easy, ill-advised smile creeping up on him.

As he exits that giant metal box, he shakes his head with an anxious laugh. If he’s this embarrassed by himself when he’s alone, the chances of him living through the way you’re about to look at him are…

Well…

Abysmal.

But that doesn’t stop him from powering his way down the hall towards your door. Coincidentally, neither does the fact that he doesn’t have a plan for what he’ll do when he reaches it.

Figuring knocking is as good a start as any, that’s precisely what Chan does, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to appear more nonchalant. 

Then, he waits.

And then, he waits some more.

After thirty seconds pass without a response, Chan knocks again, carefully balancing the weight of his fist against it so the sound of it isn’t too assertive — or too eager — or too desperate — or —

“Left about an hour ago,” a voice says from a few meters away.

Chan turns towards the sound. Several units down, an old woman’s head pokes out of an open doorway. He can’t tell if she’s intentionally frowning at him or if it’s the weight of her jowls pulling the corners of her mouth down. Either way, it feels bad.

Running an anxious hand over the back of his increasingly warm neck, he coughs, “Oh?”

The ajumma clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You young people never put those cell phones down and yet you still wind up like this.” She works herself up further; her nostrils flare as she rambles, “In my day, it was rude to show up unannounced. We called ahead, and when we called ahead, people were there to answer the door.”

Chan isn’t above arguing with some personified wrinkle, but he likes to think you would be. Even though you’re not here to witness it, it feels important to be the person you might like him to be. 

So, he bites his tongue. 

He nods yet again with a polite smile.

He turns on his heels.

And when he shuffles back towards the elevator, there’s a hell of a lot less of a spring in his step.

Two days go by after Chan’s little fieldtrip. Just like the previous several, they slip away quietly. This time, however, he doesn’t check-in — doesn’t type out his thoughts just to immediately erase them; doesn’t stare at his phone and wait to prove it to himself that it won’t chime.

Lesson learned, really.

It was a bad idea to bet the house on maybes. He knew it on the front end and still chose optimism; now, it serves him right. Played stupid games and won stupid prizes, as you like to say. If only he could stop thinking about what you like to say and instead focus on the fact that you haven’t said anything at all.

Chan grits his teeth and tries hard to focus on the game lighting up his monitor. Whatever Yongbok talked him into playing doesn’t make him feel any better about fumbling you — in fact, it’s proving to be yet another thing he’s terrible at — but it’s sufficiently distracting to have his friends swearing each other up and down in their Discord voice channel.

Actually, he stands corrected. This is also terrible, albeit a different flavor of garbage than his hopeless mooning over you.

Maybe radio silence is better.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes against the surface of his desk — three long taps bookended by three short ones. 

Before Chan reaches for it, he lets the poetry of it all sink in. SOS, his phone declares whenever you text him. Originally, although he’ll never fucking tell you so, he chose that text tone because hearing from you salvaged his day, every time. Now, it reminds him that he’s in over his head with no life preserver in sight.

Not bad, he thinks. He should write that bit down in the notebook of lyrics he ruminates over but never puts to music, let alone shares.

The lack of action on his part prompts his phone to vibrate again for emphasis. 

SOS!

Beaming white light bores into his retinas when he finally opens his inbox, and Chan refuses to think about the million times you’ve told him to switch to dark mode or the infinitely-brighter shit he’s been roasting under since he started this game several hours back. All he thinks about instead is the first grey text in an ocean of blue:

[2024/8/04, 23:37] you up?

You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly when you crack open the door and find Chan standing on your doorstep with his hood up and hands in his pockets. Outside the windows behind you, the downpour he just trudged through continues to dampen his mood.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you lilt, like nothing has changed at all.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?  

Chan lifts his chin slightly as some half-assed nod to let you know that his ears work, if nothing else. Either missing his stony expression or ignoring it, you simply open the door wider, beckoning him to follow you with a gentle wave of your free hand.

He wants so badly to smile back at you as easily as you smile at him — really, he does, but fuck, he can’t make his face do anything but harden.

Once he toes off his shoes, he expects you to lead him straight to your room — or your couch — or any of the other various services the pair of you have misappropriated along the way. You don’t, though. With your lips pensively pursed, you shuffle a bit closer; and as soon as you can reach him properly, you raise both of your hands. One flattens against his now rain-soaked sweatshirt; the other goes for his zipper, tugging gently until there’s nothing left to hold him together.

Carefully, Chan eyes you; watches while you slip the fabric off his shoulders, as if it isn’t twice as heavy as it was when he put it on. Like it’s easy, you turn away, open the nearby closet, and toss that wet mess into the top-half of your standing washer-dryer.

“I think…” Your tiny, upward curve returns while your sentence peters out. Softly, you reach up and brush a damp curl off his forehead. “An umbrella would be a worthwhile investment.”

He should join in on the bit. He should banter right back. He should smile, too — for fuck’s sake — because you’re finally right here. You’re talking to him within touching distance, radiating warmth he wants to live in, and he should touch you the way you want to be touched — the way you summoned him here to touch you.

He should do a lot of things, none of which include snapping at you, and yet —

“Why the hell am I here?”

It catches you both off-guard. You, because Chan has never once spoken to you any other way but kindly. Him, because you don’t actually look all that surprised by the sentiment, even if the presentation isn’t what you expected.

Somehow, that’s the thing that stings the most; not the way your face falls at his gruffness but the inkling you must have had before you asked him over that things between you aren’t sitting right at all.

Chan doesn’t get a response, so he asks another way: “Did you notice all of those unanswered texts when you sent yours, or did you ignore them all over again?”

It dawns on you — and him too, if he’s being honest — that you’ve still got your hands resting delicately on his chest. You reel your arms back in and cross them, not defiantly but diminutively. You shrink right in front of him; and regret hits him like a fist to the side of his skull.

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” Your head lowers while you do your best to look anywhere else.

That’s —

“Bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s really not hard to keep up a conversation, especially when someone is just asking how you’re feeling.” Instantly he feels terrible for snapping. Softening his tone slightly, he sighs, “I know you know how.”

You look up at him without tilting your head much at all. Peering over that brick wall of yours, he figures. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t know.”

The face he pulls must convey what he’s thinking: Are you fucking kidding me? But you’re quick to prevent him from jumping to any further-out conclusions, amending, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Chan opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. It’s rare for you to open up to the extent you might be about to; and it’s a miracle that you might be willing to now, given the fact that he’s come at you blindly at 160 kilometers per hour.

“I don’t like needing people.” 

Your attention is drawn to your fidgeting fingers and the drawstring of the sweatpants they occupy themselves with. The overwhelming urge he feels to grab them, to hold them still, goes ignored and makes his own hands tense. He focuses hard on your face instead; the crease between your eyebrows while you plot out your next steps.

“I didn’t want to need you, but then I did need you — and you just… you came, no questions asked.” You laugh, either despite your visible discomfort or because of it. “Held my hand and all that, didn’t just drop me on the curb and say, hit me up when you’re down again.”

Chan feels as if he’s been punched, although it’s not offense he takes from your statement. Judging by that flicker of hurt in your eyes, the expectation you had wasn’t for him, personally. It was history. 

You shift where you stand from one foot to another, like that weight on your shoulders is changing. He doesn’t know if it’s getting heavier or lighter until you finally lift your chin to look at him squarely. 

“It scared the shit out of me, honestly — how easy you are to need — so, I did what I always do: I bailed.” Sighing, you finally seem to register how much anxiety you’re holding in your hands. You drop it, then drop them to your sides. “But I think I’ve figured it out.”

You smile slightly, and suddenly, he feels lighter. “I’ve been conflating them, but they’re completely different things, aren’t they?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. Truly, he’s at a loss. He can’t predict which direction you’re about to turn in. Seeming to sense this, you answer his unasked question, “Wanting to need you and wanting you.”

While this makes his brain pause, his body moves. Cautiously, he steps forward and watches you counter him until your back is flush against the wall behind you. 

“Can I have a definition, then, please?” He pleads, voice low, while his hands gently claim your hips. “Because I thought it was want behind the booty call that brought me here, and I don’t want to find myself on a completely different page again.”

You link your arms around his neck and eye him carefully. “It was,” you acknowledge with a small nod. “Different kind, though — a shallow one.”

Chan finds his mouth curving up at the corner, all on its own. His gaze drops from yours to your lips, then back again. It’d be so easy to kiss you now, but he can’t unless he gets some sort of confirmation. “We’re in the deep end now, then?”

“Moving that way, at least. I spook easily, though…” You’d probably love nothing more than to look away when you admit that bit out loud, but to your credit, you don’t. Instead, you run your fingernails softly through the hair at his nape. “I’m not entitled to any more of your patience, but would you be willing to take it one day at a time?”

Chan wishes that he’d at least pretended to consider this. He doubts you’ve ever had a vision of him as someone nonchalant — in fact, he’s the poster boy for chalance in whichever reality that word exists — but it would’ve been infinitely cooler of him not to respond immediately and wholeheartedly with a rushed sigh, “Fuckin’ right, I am,” before leaning in to kiss you absolutely stupid.

Whatever gratification he can’t find by licking into the mouth you open eagerly for him, he finds in the way you keen when he presses his body more fully against yours. The payoff is even better when he stops short, divorcing your respective lips entirely.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he announces, breathless. His grin widens; meanwhile, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “No! Not, like, never — I don’t have that kind of resolve — but not tonight.”

The sudden switch makes you dizzy. Thankfully, it makes you laugh, too. 

“Don’t tell me you just want to enjoy my company,” you warn. You attempt to say it earnestly, but a smile cracks you wide open. “I’m still too prone to bolt when I hear cute shit like that.”

Chan shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to plant yourself on that couch —” He pulls his right hand off your left hip and gestures blindly over his shoulder. “I’m also telling you that I am getting takeout.”

You narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. “I wonder what you could possibly be ordering.”

“Belated pork belly is better than no pork belly.” He narrows his eyes to mirror hours, then kisses you quickly, murmuring, “One for the road,” against your lips.

Then, he dashes off towards your front door. As he goes, he just barely catches you nagging him through your laughter:

“If you’re not going to wait for your sweatshirt, can you at least take an umbrella?”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz taglist. multi taglist. navigation.

due to tumblr being ass with tags lately, i’m going to be tagging people in the comments for the time being!

[pixelchills]

A tracer is making money with our works

Hello guys, this is a bit different post than what I usually do but please spread the word of awareness for the FNAF, Genshin Impact, Undertale and MHA communities.

A YouTuber named Suitor LP and his thumbnail artist Tanabearchan (minors do not click this link it's an 18+ acc) have been using a lot of other people's art, traced, on the thumbnails of his videos. A lot of the thumbnails included multiple different FNAF, Genshin Impact, Undertale and MHA/BNHA fanworks, and after talking with Suitor LP himself he has apparently been the one to find these artworks from pinterest and then paid Tanabear to trace/edit them, paying her $200 a month for it.

Example, my own work:

Most of his videos are apparently NSFW audios, so your art might have been used in that sort of video. I have screenshots of all the original thumbnails from the past 8 or 9 months with the stolen artworks saved. He has, in a matter of panic, tried to save his and Tanabear's reputations, by trying to BRIBE me with money to keep my mouth shut while he and Tanabear remove all the evidence of the tracing from his discord server and YouTube.

I am not completely sure what the real reason behind all of this is, and who is the bigger criminal here, because Suitor's story changed the narrative multiple times during our chats in discord yesterday. At first, I assumed he was a victim of a scam, so I took my own strike down but told him to fire his thumbnail artist and that I'd call her out for scamming. He didn't seem to want me to do that, and then his story started to change from him "not knowing his artist was tracing" to "I was the one who found the pictures from Pinterest and told her to trace them"

He was constantly changing the story around about everything, and tried to reason with me not to do this callout from everything from "Other YouTubers do it too" to tragic 'pity me' stories of his youtube career to eventually raising his bribe to $100.

He promised to change, and replace all the thumbnails, but the damage is already done, and judging his constantly changing story I would not believe anything he says at this point. I will add all the screenshots of the video thumbnails I took under the cut. He has now taken down all the thumbnails but I really don't trust he is going to change, he literally said to me when I first started chatting with him that he "learned his lesson 2 years ago" (to not use stolen artwork) but it really seems like he didn't.

I recognised one of the artworks of DJMM to belong to @ballpitbee and one of the Moon drawings to belong to another 18+ artist I follow on Twitter.

Suitor LP has gained money from his videos by using the artworks to lure people to his videos. Some of the arts might have been done by minors, and they've been used in NSFW audio videos. Tanabearchan has gained $200 per month to trace and edit these artworks for him for probably over a year now.

I do not usually call people out publicly. This situation is just so unfair and I think people need to be aware of this. Idk what we can do at this point, but I just don't want these people to be let go without facing at least some sort of consequences. So I'm spreading awareness to not support his channel and to not support the artist who traces others' work for money.

Here are the thumbnails, please reblog this to the other fandoms as well so this post can reach out to all the possible artists affected.

[fatkish]

I found this post you made and idk how old it is but it was about writing stories to heal inner child to give readers someone who stepped up for them as a kid since they didn’t have someone… idk if ur still taking requests for that, but if you are, any chance you could write smthing related to saving a kid from sex trafficking? Specifically where it was perpetuated by the parents if that makes sense?? Idk. I want Aizawa to come get me outta there lol(I’m okay now). Maybe he was undercover or smthing for a bigger operation and came in contact with.. that. Thanks for reading my whole request ^^;;

Aizawa x SA Victim Child Reader

TRIGGER WARNING: please be aware that the following content contains allusions to rape, the sexual exploitation and abuse of minors as well as unwanted sexual advances. Please be warned

Aizawa goes undercover disguised as a potential buyer for an illegal quirk boosting drug that the reader’s parents are selling and finds readers parents offering reader to buyers as well.

Reader is 12 and still hasn’t developed a quirk yet. They are a late bloomer and their parents decided that their kid needed to ‘help out the family’ since they haven’t developed a quirk

Reader is forced to take lessons on ‘dancing’ in order to entertain the clients. The reader’s parents have made them believe that they are not worth saving and that heroes will treat them like a villain because what they’re doing is wrong and because their parents are ‘evil’

Aizawa was back in his underground days and came upon the house acting as a corrupt hero. He had found an actual corrupt hero who used the drugs and knew about the kid. Aizawa followed the hero and was talking to the parents when they offered the reader to him.

Aizawa, not believing this, actually went to the room and paid the parents before going in alone.

The reader’s parents don’t really care how long people are along with the reader, as long as they pay them good money. The father’s quirk allows him to distort electrical circuits and signals rendering any device that investigators might use to capture evidence of their deeds, to be useless.

Once alone with the reader, Aizawa was revolted by the way the reader was sexualized by their own parents. He talked to the reader and it took some convincing but he eventually gave the reader a phone that they could use to gather evidence from the inside.

After Aizawa left, because there wasn’t anything he could do at that exact moment that wouldn’t make things worse for the reader, he informed the police as well as the other heroes he was working with about the situation and within the next three days, they had all the information they needed in order to get a search warrant and arrest the parents

Aizawa was the one who was in charge of the kid. It was during the raid that the reader’s quirk finally manifested.

Their quirk allows them to build up and store massive amounts of electrical energy and basically turn their body into electrical energy as well as manipulate it. The reader can travel through electrical circuits like landline phones and computers. They can create a force field of electrical energy that fries anything within it as well as control electricity and shape it.

The reader was being ‘used’ by a rather violent man who was being far rougher than anyone had ever been before. It was during all the stress and anxiety that the reader finally had enough. When Aizawa busted the door down he saw the man had been electrocuted to death and had electrical burns all over him.

Aizawa realizes the severity of the situation and instead of using his quirk he decided to have the reader try to control their ability themselves. Aizawa gently removed his goggles and slowly approached the hyperventilating child. He gently talked to them, speaking in a soft voice, he told them that it was over. That their parents have been arrested and that they will never have to deal with this kind of treatment ever again.

The reader obviously wasn’t comfortable with touching others and Aizawa understood that. Aizawa had given the reader the space they needed and made sure to always be within the reader’s sight and also made sure that anyone who had to be near the reader, followed the reader’s directions.

If they didn’t want to be touched, Aizawa made sure they wouldn’t be. If the reader was uncomfortable, Aizawa made sure that whatever was causing it was dealt with. For the first time ever, the reader actually saw and believed that someone was willing to protect them and after a few months the reader was finally comfortable with sleeping in the same room as Aizawa.

The doctors and nurses were worried about the reader since they refused to be touched and would use their quirk to defend themselves. It was only after Aizawa was able to gain the reader’s trust that the doctors had Aizawa be their proxy and do the tests needed. With every test that Aizawa had to do, he would explain in detail what he would be doing, why he was doing it and made sure that the reader felt comfortable and safe, making sure that they understood that they had to give consent before anything would be done.

Eventually a therapist and counselor where provided to the reader to help them deal with the trauma from their experiences. The reader wouldn’t really talk to anyone besides Aizawa

Seeing this the courts as well as the reader’s doctors suggested that Aizawa become the reader’s legal guardian

Aizawa adopted the reader and had Hizashi introduce himself to the reader. After that, the two of them decided to take the reader shopping since this was more of Hizashi’s area of expertise rather than Aizawa’s. They bought clothes for the reader, toys, books, electronics, snacks, toiletries, bedding, furniture, etc.

Once they got to Aizawa’s house, they helped the reader get everything inside and showed the reader their own rood with an attached bathroom. The reader even had a lock on their door that they could control from their side. Aizawa even helped the reader instal one of those chain locks on their door

It took a lot of time but eventually the reader began to trust Hizashi too. Eventually one day the reader had fallen asleep on the couch next to Aizawa. Aizawa was so touched and smiled softly. He made himself, as well as the reader, a promise, he would do whatever it took to keep them safe and make sure that they were happy and felt loved and cared for

(I hope this helps you and that you enjoyed this. I hope that your inner child finds some peace with this and that this helps them heal.)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for telling my partner they need to be better at communicating during sex?

NSFW ask, but this has been an ongoing issue for a while and I’m very frustrated

My (19M) partner (21NB) is my first true sexual partner. They’ve been with other people in the past, some good experiences but mostly bad. I on the other hand have dated before and have had pseudo-sexual relationships (just touching) but my partner is the first person I’ve properly done the horizontal tango with

That being said, with my just-touching exes, we’ve always been extremely careful about communication in the moment. My most recent ex and I had the stoplight method even when we weren’t being kinky. It was reassuring to be able to check up on her and for her to be able to do the same. Maybe we were playing is too safe, idk, but that’s what I became comfortable with during sex

With my current partner, however, this has never been the case with their exes. I think I might be the first partner they’ve had that actually took time before making any sexual advances to ask them what they like and how I can make them happy because in the moment when I did, they looked confused.

Being horny young adults, we did eventually sleep together, and during the act, I realized that neither of us had checked in on the other outside of the initial “is this okay?” when removing clothes (I was the one who asked) so I slowed my roll and asked my partner if they were with me. They were not. They sputtered and said that I brought them out of the moment, and I became really really concerned that they had been disassociating the entire time because of previous sexual trauma. I told them I wanted to stop, they did not, so I rolled off and whispered into their ear while (and I apologize for not finding a better way to describe this without being overly graphic) I was straight jorkin’ em off. They were happy, they fell asleep, and I felt awful.

About half an hour later they kicked me out because their mom was coming home from a New Years Eve party (it was my 19th birthday which also hurt), but that’s not relevant, I just need the timeline in place.

We’ve done more sexual things since then and every time I try to check on them, they get weirded out. I stopped doing it in the moment so overtly and changed tactics to asking “what can I do for you” and “what do you need baby”, and this seems to get the job done. However, afterwards when I ask actually ask them how they were feeling, they would say that “the afterglow’s ruined” (which is wild because we’ve been together for six months and I’ve never finished -> I am a pre-op transman and my partner is AMAB, aka has told me that they don’t know what to do with my parts and once joked that sex would be easier if I had a dick, for context)

The last straw was tonight (March 4th) when they came over to my place and we started making out. I wasn’t really feeling it, so I tried to back off and shift to just lazy kisses, but my partner didn’t stop so I pulled away and said: “not tonight, baby”

They said: “if you weren’t in the mood, why did you kiss me?”

I said: “because I like kissing you?”

They said: “you should have told me you didn’t want to do anything. I don’t want to get the wrong idea.”

I said: “I’m sorry, I should have. I thought I wanted to, but I changed my mind. Can we go back to watching anime?”

They said yes and we watched another episode of a show (dungeon meshi!!) before I finally asked them why they don’t check in with me the way I do with them

They said: “I don’t like talking during sex. Ruins the vibe”

I said: “Okay, so can we find a system that lets the other know how we’re feeling when we don’t want to talk? Like how I use signs when I go nonverbal?”

They said: “I don’t see the point. If you don’t want to fuck, just push me off.”

I got mad and said: “What is wrong with you? I don’t want to push you off, I want to talk about it!”

They told me I was getting worked up and left. It’s been two hours and I feel like total shit for pushing the subject when they’ve expressed that they don’t like my expectations for sex. Am I too high maintenance?

TL;DR, I annoyed my partner by asking too many times for them to talk to me during sex, they got pissed and left my house. Atia for asking too many times?

What are these acronyms?

[hellsburners]

soft release

summary: steven got a little rough with this one pairing: steven grant x male reader word count: 1.5k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x, top!steven, rough stuff, nods to comic steven, maybe ooc idk a/n: based on this request.

masterlist | more moon knight

His silence was deafening, all you could hear was the sound of the car speeding through the streets of London. His hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Your hands were cold and clammy. 

You were on the way home from a gala with your partner, famous museum curator, Steven Grant of the National Art Gallery. The gala featured new historical findings from a site in Egypt funded by the Grant Foundation. 

There were at least fifty people in the museum. Everyone was clad in pristine clothing, gowns, and expensive suits drinking equally expensive champagne. You came as Steven’s partner, a surprise to a lot of his colleagues. He wore a dark pinstripe tuxedo with the brightest white tie, his shoes were polished so bright it shone under the moonlight. 

He made you wear a similarly luxurious midnight blue tuxedo that complemented his. He introduced you to the other curators in Europe. You tried not to get bored but it definitely was. Steven said he hated it himself. You anxiously downed a few glasses of champagne, which you eventually regretted.

He was still silent when you arrived at the manor, removing his coat and his tie. He looked at you with his sunken eyes, a glare you would only see from Marc but you knew it was still Steven. He licked his lips and let out a sigh.

“If this is about earlier—” you tried to say, but Steven pulled you into your shared bedroom, your back against the hardwood door. 

“Flirting with my co-workers, ‘Do you think that was nice of you, love?” he said, his face so close to yours you could feel his warm breath on your lips. His hand is above your shoulder.

You shook your head, speechless. “Don’t think so,” he pulled back and went onto the bed removing his silver cufflinks. “Come here,” he gestured to the bed, his voice deep and serious, like a general giving away orders. 

“I’m so sorry—” you uttered. He let out a few tsks before pulling his belt off. On the usual, it would be you who would be the more aggressive when it comes to stuff like this. You went to sit on the edge of your white king-sized bed, Steven looking down on you with shadows in his eyes. 

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, it was so warm against your skin. His thumb went to your lips as he bent down to kiss you. You let out a soft moan as his lips left yours. He smirked. “Can we play?” he asked. You nodded before he placed his tie around your eyes, it was soft against your nose bridge and your temples. 

Steven started to undress you, your shirt, your pants, your underwear. Before he laid you down he took the tie around your neck and wrapped it around your wrists and secured it with a knot. He gently placed you against the wide bedspread, your arms above your head. 

“I hated the way he looked at you, the way he touched your hand as he talked to you,” he whispered in your ear leaving wet kisses around your neck. You could feel the stubble prick your skin. “Is it fair, my love? To let me see all that?” he said. You shook your head before he spun you around so your face faced the sheets, your ass cold against the air. 

He smacked your rear with a loud clap, like a thunderstrike. A red print is left on your skin. He massaged it with a grip that grew tighter and tighter. You let out a cry from impact, tears forming in your eyes. Steven knew how much this might have shocked you, how it wasn’t really like him. But he saw the way that man looked at you, filled with so much lust and want, he wanted to hurt him. “Shit, I’m so sorry love was that too much?” he shakingly said. 

“No, it—it’s good I liked it,” you witnessed a new side to him, your sweet and soft-spoken boyfriend was now all rough with you. You felt your center turn and harden. Steven’s own hardness grew, the visual of you prone on the bed bound and blindfolded, he cursed. It was Marc’s idea. He heard him whisper it in the car. Do it, teach ‘em a lesson.

“You’re so naughty, what will I do without you, love?” he said as he undressed his trousers. He bent down to kiss your nape, you could feel his tip rub against your back, leaving a wet trail. He took some lube and prepared your hole, his big digits inserted in you opening you up. He left kisses against your ass, leaving a few bites. You wince from the slight pain. 

You hear a foil wrapper being opened and an elastic being stretched. “Can I be rough with you?” he said, you let out a whiny yes. He gently pressed into you, his hardness entering you. The two of you let out a loud groan, his hands gripping your waist. 

He proceeded to thrust into you with fervor, he let out loud needy noises. You could feel his fingers press into your hip bones, his skin slapping into yours through each thrust. You could feel the hard tip ram into your most sensitive spots. You cried out curses and his name. The bed started to creek and rock back and forth, your fingers dug into the soft sheets. 

The sheer amount of force he was letting out was enough to push you to the edge, you could feel your cock leak so much pleasure. Stop, he’s close, a voice whispered to Steven. He pulled out, you let out a sob from the loss of sensation. 

“Steven—babe,” you were a whimpering mess.

“Not yet pretty, ‘need to show you how mad I am right now,” he sulked before turning you over and placing hips between your legs. He started to press wet kisses around your torso, his tongue playing with one of your nipples. The lack of vision made your whole body feel much more sensitive. 

Your bound hands tried to touch his hair as he kissed you down to your leaking cock, he swiftly took your wrist and pinned them back above your head. He went to kiss around your neck, his hand going to your cock, he stroked it so fast, and with the precum, it was so slippering you were sure you’d finally cum. He stopped when your legs began to close, you let out another cry. 

“You’re leaking so much, love. No one can make you like this but us.” 

“I know—”

“Just the three of us for you. Is that not enough?”

“You’re m—more than enough.”

“So it won’t happen again?” he sounded like he was begging, pleading for you to only care for him. 

“Yes—”

The moment you gave out your answer he pressed his cock again to your hole and began to fuck you again. He was harder, it was stiff around your rear, but pleasurable sliding across your muscles. His hip bones clashed against your skin, wet sounds filled the room. Your eyes rolled back from the sensation, your legs trembling. 

The constant rubbing loosened the tie from your eyes, you saw Steven covered in sweat, glistening under the moonlight. His curly hair was all tousled and the veins in his hands were visible as it held your waist. He looked at you and noticed that you could finally see him. He placed a wanton kiss on your lips, it was lousy at best but filled with so much want. You placed your hands around his head and pulled him close. 

He untied you and your hands began to snake across his wide back. The feeling of his cock inside you was starting to make your head feel light, your eyes half-lidded and your toes curled. You were a moaning mess under him. 

He whispered that he was close. His thrusts became erratic but still hard. You asked if you could ride him and he obliged. You began to ride him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your hips moved up and down, his hands clenched on your ass. The two of you shared one last kiss as he came inside you, your own cum shooting on your torsos. You felt the room darken as your eyes closed. 

You woke up to the room still dark, the moon shone on the window. You felt a cold wet towel on your rear. It was Steven, cleaning you up as he pressed soft kisses on the redness around your waist. 

“You’re awake,” he said, placing the wet towel on the basin near the bed stand. “‘Sorry if it was too much.”

“Marc got you into this?” you giggled. He nodded like a scolded puppy. You stroke his wet hair before you place a light kiss on his lips. “Cuddle me into bed then, my body is sore,” you said as he took out your softest blankets and covered your naked bodies. He peppered you with kisses before you went back into slumber. 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[grison-in-space]

A friend of mine has a dog behavior challenge they're seeking advice for and I thought you might be able to help if you have time or direct them to someone who can! https://www.tumblr.com/nemertea/760896232858271744/does-anyone-have-any-good-resources-for-dealing

Here's a link for ease of clicking, but the issue overall seems to be "how do you cope with what seems to be a desire specifically to control a secondary animal's access to social resources rather than fear that the other animal will prevent the focal animal from accessing them?"

I really wish I had a clear set of resources for your friend, because it seems really similar to something I have been struggling with between Matilda (21 months) and my 13yo dog Tribble, in which Matilda appeared to want to herd Tribble into her crate and control her access to humans and social outlets. Working on this has been on pause for the past six weeks since Matilda's eye abscess exploded on us, but I'm beginning to pick it up again now: the dogs have been on crate and rotate since just before the eye abscess blew up, and that isn't a good long term solution, so now we see if we can actually resolve the problem.

My current opinion on how to move forward involves making it clear that I, the human, am not tolerating the "herding" behavior in my space and that it will result in being removed from the situation entirely. This means that you have to be able to prevent the dog causing the problem from redirecting onto the cat and doubling down when corrected, which is one of the failure modes I ran into initially. (It also means you have to rehab your cats' trust that you can and will fix the situation, and prevent your cats from inflaming the situation further by redirecting onto the problem dog.)

IDK, y'all, I'm still sketching out my treatment plan beyond the current stage, which is using shared licky mats with one dog crated to reduce the tension and memory of conflicts between the two dogs and replace them with memory of time spent licking in low-stress situations. We will be then leashing both dogs and spending time in the same room with (you guessed it) more licky and chewing time, with each dog rewarded for glancing at the other and disengaging. Eventually, I'd advance to both dogs leashed + direct interactions of the sort the "controlling" dog has tried to veto, and then treat that stimulus like reactivity counterconditioning: the "controlling" dog must sit without barking or pulling etc and will be body-blocked and interrupted if she tries to bother the other animal, but can earn infinite high-value rewards from simply looking quietly while the other animal receives the coveted attention.

Comments and suggestions from other trainers with similar experience would be welcomed, I suspect!

[ln4-llingforu]

Her Kiss The Colour Of A Constellation

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader SMAU

As much as you loved your brother, something you loved more was annoying him and there was nothing more annoying than stealing his friends

Or

The one in which you're in a secret relationship, but you're terrible at keeping secrets

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Yourusername has added to their story

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@/yourusername and @/landonorris spotted on a beach in Cornwall following the British Grand Prix after posts on their instagram stories show the pair on a 'cute date' in a local restaurant.

Username1 OMG my y/nlando heart cant take this

Username2 I would pay to see max's reaction to this

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Yourusername

Tagged: maxverstappen1

Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 348,902 others

Post race dump <3 P.s max very quickly made me remove the red jacket

Charles_leclerc red is so your colour 😍

Liked by yourusername

Username4 lmao not charles thirsting in the comments

Danielricciardo thank you for helping me reek havoc y/n

yourusername any time danny boy

Maxverstappen1 christian said if you wear red again he wont let you in the garage

yourusername fine ://

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In a now deleted story, @/landonorris shared an image of the current wdc's sister y/n verstappen who appeared to be cuddled up with a mystery man, though with his entire face covered there is no way to tell who he is

Y/nlandogirlie sad it's not lando but im now very intrigued

Username3 lowkey think it might be charles, he was flirting in her comments and they are quite close...

username5 man idk i think thats a bit of a stretch

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@/charles_leclerc spotted with a mystery girl in monte carlo following an instagram story also featuring an unidentified girl

Username4 kinda looks like @/yourusername no?

supermax33 omg! Youre so right

username4 and she posted on her story that she was on a date

username6 and the watch in the story did kinda look like charles'

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Yourusername

Location - monte carlo, monaco

Likes by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 632,581 others

Life lately..

Username2 mother is mothering

Maxverstappen1 so this is where youve been?

yourusername why'd you wanna know? You miss me maxi?

Y/n4life you mean we lost her?? To a man 🤮

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Charles_leclerc

Location - home

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One whole year with you ma chérie. Aucune quantité de mots ou de temps ne sera jamais suffisante pour montrer mon amour pour toi <3 No amount of words or time will ever be enough to show my love for you

Yourusername Je t'aimerai pour toujours <3

Landonorris thank god i can finally talk about it

yourusername if we didn't do this now you would've cracked eventually

Maxverstappen1 how did i miss this?!?

danielricciardo you aren't the only one

charles_leclerc sorry guys but i was sworn to secrecy

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The toxic!charles fic is coming but i couldnt get this idea out of my mind

P.s if anyone has any charles x verstappen!reader fics please show them to me, this paring lives in my mind rent free

As always requests are open