#i might make a little list for those later

[chrysanthemumgames]

Could you share a little more about your writing process? Do you outline? I’m struggling with keeping the amount of choices down in my game but also keeping it customizable

I may not be the best person to ask about this, as I'm honestly still quite an amateur, but I'll share some of what I do, and maybe it'll help.

I do think some amount of outlining is pretty necessary for writing an interactive fiction. Flying by the seat of your pants (that is, just writing until you're done, then going back to rewrite everything into coherence) isn't really sustainable practice for a (long) choice game. You really want to know at least where all the major branches of your game are going, and where they can meet back up again.

Those meeting places are called chokepoints, and they're vital.

For example, in Chapter Four of FoA, the player has three different routes of investigation they can take. They can go talk to Lethe and try to help heal her, they can go into the city to see if the spirits know anything, or they can go to the riverbank to try and pinpoint the source and nature of whatever is ailing the river Lethe. This results in three distinct scenes, each with their own choices, and if I'd wanted to, all of them could have further branched in some big way that would affect the plot, and so on, and so forth.

The thing is, that's not really doable. There needs to be some place the branches meet up again so the story can continue, at least as early in the game as Chapter Four! In this example, it was literally a meeting where everyone talked about their findings, but of course it doesn't have to be. The point is, it brought the branches back together again and allowed the story to continue. You should probably at least have a sense of when the bigger branches are going to occur, and what's going to bring them together again. That alone will help you control the number of choices and branches you offer. If you know they all have to eventually get the player to the clock tower at midnight or something, then you know how to steer things within each branch.

My outlines tend to be a little more detailed than that. I start with a beat chart for the game (or, in the case of BotL, a beat chart for each subplot, because it's basically several subplots stacked together wearing a trenchcoat), and from there I put them in the right order and make a beat chart for the whole thing.

A 'beat chart' here is just a list of the big things that happen like 'PC meets Iasion' or 'Trial of Pirithous and Theseus.' Once you have a really general outline like that, you can stop outlining if you want. You have a roadmap, and if you're more of an improvisor, that should still be enough to help you steer yourself towards the necessary chokepoints. If you prefer to plan more, like me, you can break your outline into chunks and add levels of detail. I will do a chapter-by-chapter outline with a list of scenes for each, and then when I come to the specific chapter I will actually outline the scenes with code before writing my way through them. Sometimes all at once, sometimes in the form of outline, scene, outline, scene.

Finding the process that works for you is a big part of succeeding at finishing an IF, I think. Yours might not (probably won't) be the same as mine; the important thing is that it keeps you moving forward (and not just laterally, into more and more branches). Branches are great, but you have to prune them back sometimes for the healthiest plant. IF. You get what I mean, I hope.

[thelittlestspider]

14 23 25 and 30 for the bookworm asks!

14. what books have made you uncomfortable? why?

tender is the flesh made me so uncomfortable i felt sick at the end of it, because a lot of the stuff in it was like stuff that felt really plausible that it could happen in real life (maybe not the worldwide cannibalism per se, but the exploitation/dehumanization of other people and the violence that comes with that that makes people look the other way and become like accomplices in upholding this violent system. sorry idk if i'm making sense.)

23. genres you rarely read?

idk i guess like contemporary romance? or like mystery/noir? i've been trying to read more scifi but i'm so picky about it.

25. do you read reviews on a book before you read it?

not really? i probably should because sometimes i'll go in blind on a book and end up not finishing because it's really boring and i'm like nooo 🙃.

30. favourite book this year?

oh god this is so hard because there are so many i've found this year that i really enjoyed. i'm just gonna list some of them:

- The Weight of Blood by Tiffany D. Jackson: if you like Carrie you're gonna love this book. it's about a girl whose racist father forces her to pass as white (she's Black) and she gets outted one day when her gets wet, and it sets off a chain of events that ends with her burning the town. cws: racism, child abuse, violence, police brutality.

- Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge: this is a really fun read for halloween. it's about this town that hunts a guy with a jack-o-lantern for a head and they have to like eat the candy that's hidden in his vines, without knowing that winning comes with a very high price.

- The Book of Living Secrets by Madeleine Roux: the book is about these girls who are tricked by a shady bookdealer into transporting themselves into their favorite romance book, which puts them in an alternate universe where the people are tormented by this eldritch being that's trying to escape and take over the multiverse.

- The Bright Lands by John Fram: this book was wild. it's about a guy whose brother is murdered and he goes back to his hometown to try to solve his murder, and gets caught up in this like town conspiracy and a monster trying to rise up and eat the town. cws: homophobia, homophobia, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, past rape, past child pornography, child abuse, statutory rape. So proceed at your own risk.

[spade-club]

I wanna make some sort of relationship chart for my in-sys family dynamics (a ship chart would also be cool actually!) But I'm confused about the best way to go about visualizing that information. I just want a cohesive list of how everybody feels about eachother!! Bc its hard to keep up with it all sometimes. Esp with Juice and his lack of memory sharing :( idk how he feels about anyone really, except for cece (besties).

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: enemies to lovers!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

Masterlist

Peter walked into the kitchen in the tower and was immediately greeted by a confetti popper exploding in his face followed by a tender kiss on the forehead from Tony.

“Oh, my. Good morning to me.” Peter smiled at the greeting.

“Damn it, Parker.” Tony groaned. “I thought you were my little girl.”

“Don’t feel bad, daddy. A lot of people confuse Peter for a little girl.” You said as you walked into the kitchen behind Peter. The two of you made eye contact and you gave him an innocent smile while he rolled his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.“ He said sarcastically and then hissed at you like a cat. You gave him a look as you walked over to your dad.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Tony said and pulled you into a long hug.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“Thank you, daddy.” Peter said in a high pitched voice to mock you. You and Tony looked at him and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What I meant to say was, happy birthday. I didn’t know that was today. I mean, I’d been wondering why you looked so old but I assumed it was from your lack of sunscreen use.”

“Nice try. I wear sunscreen everyday.” You replied.

“Really?” He gasped. “Might want to up that SPF a few. You look like a crumbled piece of paper and not in a fun Taylor Swift way.”

“Don’t talk to me about skincare, Rudolf.” You snapped and tapped your nose twice to point out the zit on the tip of Peter nose. He covered it with his hand and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Children, please. No fighting. It stops my moisturizer from sinking in.” Tony sighed and rubbed circles into his skin.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to make sure Peter knew about the giant pimple on his nose in case he was going to see anyone today.” You said as you smiled sweetly at Peter. He discreetly flipped you off by scratching his cheek with his middle finger.

“Any plans for the night, jelly bean?” Tony asked you.

“Nothing crazy. My friends are coming over later for a sleepover.”

“Oh God. Is this gonna be one of those crazy parties where you all get drunk and things get out of hand and you accidentally kill someone and have to dispose of the body together while hijixs ensues?” Peter. whined.

“No, because this isn’t one of the pornos you watch.” You scoffed.

“Pfft. That is not what I watch.” He insisted. “Where would I even find something like that? What would I even type? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Shut up.” You laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. And don’t be hanging around when my friends are here. I already told them you’re a pervert and on the FBI watch list so you don’t have a chance with any of them.”

“I don’t want to date your freakbob friends anyway.” He scoffed. “And to keep it down tonight, will you? I already wake up the birds chirping every morning. I don’t want to hear you birds all night too.”

“I actually came up with a solution for that. What if you killed yourself?” You asked through a smile.

“That’s a great idea. I might give that a whirl today if I’m not busy.” He replied and matched your smile.

“You? Busy?” You laughed. “Please. Busy doing what?”

“Peter and I are gonna be in the lab doing boring stuff with the suits. Adjustments, additions, and what have you.” Tony answered you.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need any help?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that on your birthday, baby girl. Peters got it.” Tony replied, making your smile falter a little.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Peter boasted and gave you a smug look. You glared at him for a moment before looking back at your dad.

“I’ll catch you later for some cake, okay honey bun?” Tony told you before kissing your forehead.

“Okay. Bye. Have fun.” You smiled sadly as he left the room.

“You look greasy, by the way.” Peter said once you were alone.

“Like I care what you think. Even your hairline won’t stay with you.” You scoffed and nodded towards his forehead.

“It’s not actually receding, is it?” He asked and touched his hair.

“Maybe your forehead is just getting bigger.” You shrugged and popped a grape in your mouth from the bowl on the table.

“Bite me.” He replied and stopped touching his hair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You chuckled. “Isn’t that how you got your powers, spider boy?”

“Yup. What do you think would happen if you bite me? Would I be able to a do anything a total bitch can?” He wondered, making you pelt a grape at him. He caught it with ease and popped it into his mouth.

“Watch your mouth before I bring out the peppermint essential oils again.” You warned him.

“You wouldn’t.” He said quietly.

“Try me.” You shrugged. You stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment before Peter gave up.

“You win. Here’s your card. Happy birthday, gaylord.” He said as he handed you a homemade birthday card from his jeans pocket before quickly running out of the room. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled once he was gone and read the card. As annoying as you normally found him, you appreciated that he remembered your birthday. Inside the card was a crude drawing of the two of you fighting next to a drawing of a gift card to Planet Fitness.

Peter strolled into your bedroom around 10 pm when he had grown curious as to why your friends weren’t there yet. It was getting kind of late and you had listed many activities that you had planned to do while Peter begrudgingly listened to you talk earlier in the day. You were still in your room by yourself so he went in and knocked on your door to see what was happening.

“Hey dingus. When are your dumb friends getting here? I need to know when I should jam my ears with scissors.” Peter said as he leaned against your doorway. You were sitting on your bed with your knees draw to your chest and your chin resting on top of them as you stared out the window.

“Do that anyway.” You mumbled and didn’t move from your position.

“I’m going to. I can’t listen to you all yap about when Reputation TV is coming all night. And your friend Stacy’s theories are always way off.” He continued. You still didn’t turn to look at him and his smirk dropped when he heard a sniffle. He frowned and took a step into your room.

“Hello? I knew you were dumb but did you forget how to turn your neck or something?” He said to try to make you laugh. You stayed still and he craned his neck to try to see your face.

“Seriously though, when are they coming?”

“They’re not coming.” You said finally in a horse voice.

“Why? What happened? Did they finally realize you’re an annoying brat whose only redeeming quality is access to daddy’s credit card?” Peter teased in another attempt to make you laugh.

“Something like that.” You mumbled. Peter frowned and finally realized that something was actually wrong. He sat down on your bed and reached his hand out.

“Whats going on? Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Just go away.” You said sadly and wiped tears from your face. Peter shot a web at a tissue box on your dresser and pulled it over.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He said and handed you a tissue. You gave him a skeptical look and he held up one hand in defense while waving the tissue in the other like a white flag. You sighed and took the tissue before wiping your eyes.

“They found out it wasn’t a yacht party or at some fancy restaurant or some elitist club in Tribeca so they all cancelled.“ You said as you nervously ripped the tissue up in your hands.

“They cancelled? Why?”

“Because no one wants to come to my party. They want to come to a Stark Industries party with puppies in the gift bags and acrobats suspended from the ceiling and Avengers walking around like party clowns. Just hanging out with me wasn’t cool enough so they all bailed.” You sniffled and turned back to look out the window. Peter raised his hand to place it on your shoulder but then drew it back. He didn’t know if he was who you’d want to comfort you and he didn’t want to push it.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

“Like you care.” You laughed sadly and held your knees tighter to your chest.

“I do care.” He insisted. “And I’m very sorry this happened to you tonight.”

“No you’re not.” You scoffed. “You’re probably thrilled to see me like this. This is probably the greatest moment of your dumb life.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. You finally whipped around to look at Peter and he saw the pain in your red eyes.

“It’s not? Look at me, Peter. I’m pathetic. I’m alone on my birthday because I wasn’t good enough for anyone to hang out with.” You exclaimed. Peter went quiet as you slowly caught your breath. You teased each other all the time but you’d never actually yelled at him before. You wiped your eyes with the tissue before staring at your hands.

“You were right.” You said quietly. “I am just a spoiled brat who people only like because of my connections. And I’m sure you’re anxiously waiting for me to shut up so you can say “I told you so” and prove to me once again that I’m always wrong.”

You and Peter sat in silence for a minute without looking at each other. Peter felt guilty that you were expecting him to kick you while you were down. You were feeling your own guilt for snapping at him when he was trying to be nice.

“I’m not gonna say that.” He said after a beat.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go away.” You said miserably and turned back to the window. Peter opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he couldn’t find the words. He patted your shoulder twice before getting up and leaving your room. You turned to look at the door once he was gone and felt yourself missing his presence. You turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky through your teary eyes and let time pass.

After a while, you started to smell something. You sniffed the air until you recognized it as the scent of a something burning. Out of sheer curiosity, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and padded into the kitchen. You found Peter in the kitchen with a lace trimmed pink apron tied around his waist and flour smeared on his cheek. You smiled in surprise and leaned against the wall to watch him for a minute. He was humming to himself a song you didn’t recognize while scrapping a burnt black lump of something into the trash can. When he finally turned around, he jumped when he saw you.

“Jesus. You scared me. But I guess I should’ve known the smell of something baking would have your big back running to the kitchen like I hit the bat signal.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, your parents went to a movie since they thought your friends would be here. That means no ones home.” Peter began.

“And?” You asked.

“And so I thought we could fulfill a lifelong fantasy of mine and making sweet love to you on the kitchen counter.” He smiled suavely and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” Your jaw dropped as he drummed his fingertips on the counter.

“I’m joking. I’m clearly baking a bake. Or, I tried. I guess 500 degrees was too hot.” He said and looked at the burnt cake in the trash.

“Yeah, that’s a few hundred above what it should be. But why are you baking? We have a chef for that.”

“Because it’s your birthday you miserable bitch. And everyone deserves a cake baked with love. Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla frosting on your burnt cake?” He asked and held up two cans of frosting. You looked between the two before your eyes settled on him. You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and shook your head.

“I don’t want your pity.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have it so shut up and grab a spatula before I rescind your choice in the matter and funfetti the fuck out of this cake.” He replied and held out a spatula. You stared at it and felt compelled to take it and join him, but you were still throwing yourself a pity party.

“No.”

“No? Look, I’m trying to cheer your dumb ass up so can you please work with me here?” Peter sighed and looked at you. You stared at him for a while before cracking the slightest smile. He noticed the smile and knew he had succeeded in his plan to cheer you up.

“Fine. But I’m not eating that. That’s what Santa puts in the bad kids stockings. We’ll make a new one. But I’m not touching raw eggs.” You told him and grabbed your dad’s matching pink apron from the drawer.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess.” Peter mumbled under his breath. You glared at him through your lashes as you threw some flour and sugar into a bowl. Peter went to put the butter in but you pushed his hand away.

“It can’t be cold butter or it won’t mix properly. It has to be room temperature.” You explained as you filled a measuring cup with water.

“Oh. Let’s pop it in the microwave then.”

“We can’t do that either. Then the hot butter will scramble the eggs. Do you want little egg bits in your cake?” You asked him as you microwaved the cup of water for a minute.

“Maybe just a little.” Peter replied as he watched you put the butter into a small bowl and then place the bowl on top of the microwaved water.

“There. This will soften the butter without making it hot enough to scramble the eggs.” You explained. He looked between your little invention and you for a minute before smiling.

“Wow. That was really smart.” He said genuinely. “Women really do belong in the kitchen.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you set the temperature to the correct heat on the oven. Peter couldn’t help but watch you over his shoulder as you combined the rest of the dry ingredients and expertly cracked an egg in one hand. He rarely got to see you like this, no makeup and in lounge clothes. And he definitely never saw you upset before. He was used to the perfectly groomed and standoffish version of yourself so this change of pace brought him unexpected joy.

“Move over. That’s not how you mix batter. You need to fold it.” You told him and reminded him of the you he knew. You bumped him with your hip and put your hands over his to help him fold the batter.

“Like laundry?” He asked as his cheeks heated up.

“Like you know what laundry is, Pigpen. And no. A different folding. Like this.” You said and helped him mix the batter until it was the desired consistency.

“Oh wow. That worked really well. I usually just go sicko mode until it turns into goop.” He confessed.

“And how does that work out for you?” You asked him.

“Look in the trash and you’ll find out.” Peter replied and eyed the burnt cake in the garbage can. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and kept helping him fold the batter. Everytime he tried to stir the batter, you gently corrected his hands to fold it instead.

“Why don’t you just do it?” He asked when he started getting frustrated with himself.

“Because you won’t learn if I do it.” You replied in a softer tone. Peter went quiet since you were being unexpectedly nice to him. You let the batter sit for minute once you were satisfied and then poured in into a cake pan.

“There. Thats gonna take about 30 minutes to bake and then it needs to cool before we frost it.” You told him as you shut the oven door.

“Oh, so we have 30 minutes? Then circling back to that making love on the counter idea-“

“Shut it.” You warned him. Peter pretended to zipper his lips and throw away the key. You cracked a smile before starting to clean up the kitchen. Peter wordlessly helped you tidy up and you exchanged a soft smile with each other in the silence of the kitchen.

“What was your worst birthday?” You asked after a long beat of silence.

“Are you talking to me?” Peter asked after looking around.

“Peter, we’re the only ones in the room.”

“Sorry. It’s not like you’ve ever asked me a personal question before. It’s usually “are you stupid?” or “can you go away?” or “do you need a tampon cry baby?” He recalled, making you feel bad for always being so mean to him.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” You said quietly. “I sound a lot meaner than I thought I was.”

“I’m mean too.” Peter shrugged.

“You tease me.” You shook your head. “I’m just cruel.”

“I think we are an equal amount of mean to each other. Don’t let it keep you up at night. I’m sure your chronic yeast infections do that enough.” Peter tried to lighten the mood, but you didn’t crack a smile. You seemed faraway in thought and he was curious as to why.

“Do you think I’m hard to be around?” You asked after a minute. Peter was about to crack another joke until he saw the look on your face. He could tell you needed a friend right now and was filled with determination to be one.

“No. I think those girls you called your “friends” are hard to be around.” He said seriously. “I’ve seen you with them. They’re the mean ones. Them bailing tonight has nothing to do with you. They’re a bunch of shallow jerks who only care about the material things in life. They don’t care about having deep connections with people. They only care about deep pockets on people. I know this isn’t the first time they’ve ditched you. And I know you feel alone even when they are here because you’re never fully included. You think no one notices because you tell stories about your charming adventures together but I see it in your eyes. They make you feel like an afterthought. You act tough and pretend it doesn’t bother you but I know that it does. You shouldn’t hang out with them anymore.”

“Then who am I going to hang out with?” You shrugged sadly. “Without them, I don’t have any friends.”

“Sitting alone is better than sitting at a table where you’re the topic of conversation when you get up.” Peter said simply. You stared at him for a moment before your eyes fell to the floor.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” You said quietly. Peter nodded his head in understanding and let a silence fall between the two of for a while. He was going to say that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him, but he didn’t know if you wanted to hear that.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked.

“No.” You said immediately. You made eye contact and you let out a sigh.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked without looking into our eyes. You saw that coming and stared at him to try and get a sense of what was going on in his head. He slowly looked back up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“Do you remember that time the power went out in the city due to that Max guy or whatever and we all lit candles and hung out in the tower?”

“Uh oh.” Peter gulped. “You answered my question with another question. That can’t be good.”

“Shut up. Do you remember or not?” You asked and gently kicked his foot with your foot.

“I remember that.” He told you and held your gaze.

“You were new around here. You had just gotten your powers that year so I didn’t really know you yet. I had gone to look for more candles and found you crying on the floor of the linen closet.

“I remember that.” He nodded. “It was all so overwhelming to be here with the whole team. I had never felt so small.”

“I know. I told you I felt like that too sometimes. And then we stayed up for hours talking about every stupid thing we ever worried about and gave each other advice. I think at one point I gave you advice on how much conditioner to use.” You said as you replayed the night in your memory. You had a look on your face that Peter had never seen on you before. It was natural and relaxed and playful, all things he knew to be the opposite of you. It was so rare that the two of you were getting along and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin in.

“A dime sized amount and not on the roots. I still use that advice.” He chuckled. “You were so nice to me that night. You came in and pretended I wasn’t crying so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. You just sat down with me and started talking ad if we’d always been friends. You quieted all my fears that night. I was initially so embarrassed about it but then I felt a lot better knowing someone had my back no matter how bad I messed up.”

“I always had your back.” You insisted. “Even when I was mean to you. If you were in trouble with my dad, I was always here talking him down and trying to get him to see your side. He sees you through the lense of his child that he doesn’t want hurt but I’ve always seen you as a hero who wants to help. I even got him to give you the suit back when you were 15. And it was my idea to put the warmers in because you told me you’re always cold.”

“Really? You were rooting for me this whole time?” He cracked a smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Always.”

“Then how come you act like…” Peter trailed off in fear of insulting you.

“Like what?” You asked, sounding like you already knew what was coming.

“Like you hate me.” He admitted. You felt your face burn in embarrassment and shook your head.

“I don’t hate you.” You said sheepishly.

“You don’t?” He asked in genuine surprise. You looked at him and he could see the guilt in your eyes even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“No. I don’t. I never did.”

“Then how come we don’t get along anymore?” He asked. He had only gone along with all the teasing since you began it, but he had always wondered why it started.

“One of the things we had talked about that night was how my one regret about being homeschooled was never getting to experience a prom. I told you had dreamed of it since I was a little girl and it broke my heart to know I’d never have one. So then you said…” You trailed off, thinking he’d remember what he told you. His face showed no sign of remembering it but he racked his brain anyway.

“I said what?” He asked, breaking your heart just a little more.

“You promised to take me. To yours.” You told him. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment before he burst out laughing. Your sadness immediately hardened into anger at the sound of him laughing at you.

“Wait, you’ve been pissy towards me for the last few years because I broke a promise I made at 15 years old and didn’t take you to a stupid school dance?” Peter asked through a laugh. You glared at him for his reaction and he immediately stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing too.

“Oh. We’re not laughing?” He asked.

“Why is that funny to you?” You snapped. Peter saw the moment slipping away from him and started to panic.

“Well I was- I was a kid.” He said simply. “I had a huge crush on this girl Liz and we were finally becoming friends so I asked her and she said yes. That was years after I promised you that. I’m sorry but I didn’t remember.”

Peter thought you were going to yell at him and hurl a parade of insults his way, but you just nodded your head and looked down at the ground.

“You’re right. We were just kids. Forget I said anything.” You mumbled and started walking towards the door to leave. Peter knew he had messed up big time and possibly just killed any and all chances of the two of you becoming friends.

“Wait.” He said desperately just as the kitchen timer went off. You stopped walking and watched him haphazardly take the cake out of the oven and throw it in the stove top as he blew on it.

“You should stay. We have to frost it.” He said with a weak smile and an even weaker attempt for you for stay.

“You can’t frost it while it’s hot. It’ll slip right off.” You said without looking at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Well then do you want to talk some more or-“

“I have to go.” You cut him off and swiftly left the kitchen.

You went back to your room to resume the pouting you had started earlier. You felt guilty about walking out on Peter but it had hurt you to know that a promise that had meant a lot to you didn’t even stay in his memory. You stared out the window and sulked as you thought yourself into a deep rut. It didn’t take long for Peter to start making noise in the kitchen, interrupting your thought spiral. You heard things falling out of cabinets followed by Peter swearing. He bumbled around for a while and slowly drove you crazy with all the noise he was making until you couldn’t take it anymore. Just when you were about to text him and tell him the knock it off, you heard the dulcet sounds of “The Dancing Queen” coming from downstairs. You groaned in frustration and got out of bed to go downstairs and see what was happening.

When you got to the living room, Peter was standing there in one of your dad’s suits that hugged him a little too tightly around his muscles. The room looked like it had been decorated by a child with poorly hung streamers, ripped up construction paper to act as confetti, and bunches of webs that Peter had tried to shape into stars and moons. He had dimmed the lights and put a single bowl of chips on the counter, which he proudly stood beside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked him.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a huge smile.

“No.” You said immediately. “Please kill yourself.”

“I will.” He promised. “After one dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. I’m not doing any of this.” You told him and turned to leave. You heard a “pst” right before feeling a web hit your back. Before you knew it, Peter tugged on the web and sent you stumbling back into Peter’s arms. He caught you with ease and winked when you landed in his arms. You rolled your eyes at him but felt a smile tugged at your lips.

“Please? Just one dance? Then I’ll let you go and hate me for the rest of your life.” He pleaded as he stared into your eyes. He looked so desperate that you found yourself nodding before you knew what you were agreeing to. He smiled in excitement and twirled you around before slowly swaying to the beat. You begrudgingly sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck while his stayed in a respectable place on your hips. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept yours on the ceiling.

“You can look at me, you know.” He teased, making you begrudgingly look him in the eyes.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” He smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw a few poorly drawn flowers webbed to a rubber band.

“Your corsage, my lady.” He said as he slipped it onto your wrist.

“This is so stupid.” You laughed but secretly loved the thought he put into everything.

“It’s about to get even more stupid. Wait here.” He asked and quickly ran into the kitchen. He returned with one of Morgan’s plastic tiaras with a big fake gem in the center.

“Every prom needs its queen.” He said as he placed the crown on your head. You made eye contact as he stepped forward to adjust it and you felt your breath catch in your throat from how close he was.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said quietly.

“Yes I did. I owed you a prom experience. I’m sorry I didn’t take you the first time. And I’m sorry for laughing at you. You just caught me off guard. I have spent many nights thinking of all the things I could have done to make you hate me. I genuinely forgot about that promise. I had no idea this entire time that you hated me because of prom.” He said as the two of you started swaying to the music again. You felt a feeling rise up in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t felt for Peter in many years.

“It wasn’t just the prom.” You admitted before you could think about it.

“It wasn’t? What else did I do? Did I hotbox the elevator with you in it or something?” He asked. “I did that to Wanda once and now she’ll show up in my dreams sometimes and make me pee the bed.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said flatly. “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” He wondered.

“It’s stupid. You’ll just laugh again.”

“No I won’t.” He assured you. “Probably. I’ll definitely try really hard not to.

“Come on. Please tell me.” He pleaded and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “You have to tell me now or I’ll become so annoying so quickly. I’ll be worse than those people who try to describe SNL skits to you and keep explaining even when it’s clearly only funny if you’re watching it.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s dumb anyway. Forget I said anything.” You said and hoped he’d drop it.

“It can’t be that dumb if it stood between us all these years. What, did you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed through his question. You went quiet and Peters eyes went wide.

“Oh shit. Did you have a crush on me?” He asked in a soft voice. You looked down at the ground to avoid having to look him in the eyes now that you were caught.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “You were my age and had these cool powers and muscles and unexpected sense of humor. I was homeschooled and had swiped to the end of Tinder. You were my only option.”

“Oh. I see. So you only liked me because I was the only choice?” He said through a laugh but it hurt him. You could sense in his voice that you had just hurt his feelings and for once, that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I mean, not the only choice.” You added. “Cap used to hang around a lot more and he’s not the worst looking. But he’s like 500 so I never really had a chance.”

“Why me, then?” He wondered. You finally looked in to his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Because you were kind.” You admitted. “You didn’t need to take on as much as what you did at such a young age but you refused to do the easy stuff. You used to drive my dad crazy with how for you begged for assignments. You were so determined to get out there and save people, it was almost obnoxious. You were never content getting back stolen bikes. You always wanted to protect people from the big things. Even when you were just a kid. I liked that about you. I still do.”

“Still?” He gulped. “Even now?”

Before you could respond, the slow music that was playing ended and “Munch” started to blast from Peter phone. He scrambled to change the song but the moment had already been ruined.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know who put that on my playlist.” He quickly lied.

“It was you.”

“It was me, yeah.” He admitted and hung his head in shame. You stopped dancing and slowly withdrew your arms from him, making his heart sink.

“This was really sweet. Thank you, Peter.” You said genuinely. “I should probably get to bed now. I just want this day to end.”

“But we haven’t frosted the cake yet. It’s still your birthday. You can’t go to bed without any cake.” He said in a desperate attempt to get you to stay.

“I don’t know. It’s late.”

“Come on. It’ll be fast. That’s one of my powers. Spider can frost cake really fast and so can I.” He said and rushed over to the cake. He held it up and gave you a lopsided smile, convincing you to stay.

“Fine. Let’s make it fast.” You agreed and walked over to him. He smiled at you joining him and got out the frosting. He handed you a spatula and you started to frost the cake.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that if you don’t want.” Peter chuckled and went to take your crown off. You quickly swatted his hand and adjusted your crown.

“Back off. It’s mine.” You said and stepped away from him. He chuckled again and you laughed too.

“I really do appreciate everything you did for me tonight. I hope I can make it up to you one day.” You told him.

“You can make it up to me right now if we clear off this counter top and-“

“No.” You cut him off.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled.

“Really, though. You cheered me up tonight and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“In a way, I’m glad your stupid friends cancelled on you. It gave us an opportunity to spend time together. And this was the least I could do for not taking you to my real prom. Which was total buns, by the way. I missed most of it because I was putting my dates dad in jail.”

“Well I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight.” You laughed softly.

“Me either. I wish I took you to the first one. We could have been friends this whole time if I had just remembered my promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m done moping about it. I’m ready to eat this cake and be friends from now on.”

“I’m ready for that too.” He smiled at you. “Especially the part about us being friends. But also for this cake because it’s kinda giving me a boner from how good it smells.”

“It does smell really good. I can’t even blame your boner. But if that thing even looks at me you’re getting impromptu gender reassignment surgery with this spatula.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled and looked over at you. He didn’t stop looking at you until you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed shyly.

“I can’t believe you ever liked me. And that this whole time, I had no idea. I am so not cool enough for a girl like you to like.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t like I dropped any hints.”

“Maybe not. It just doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t believe it even if you weren’t always mean to me. You reciprocating my feelings was not something I ever thought would happen.”

“Reciprocating? You liked me too?” You asked as your mouth went dry.

“Are you kidding? You’re my mentors insanely hot and totally off limits daughter. Of course I liked you. Not to mention you’re funny, smart, good with a screwdriver and the apparently my biggest supporter. Though you did it in secret. Make no mistake, birthday girl. I had the biggest crush on you for years. Even when you were being mean to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. You had your back to him as you washed your hands but you could feel his eyes on you. You peaked over your shoulder and sure enough, Peter’s eyes were locked on you. You gulped and turned back around when you heard him walking over to you.

“You know, as mean as your insults were, they were always clever. And you always looked good saying them. How could I not fall for you?” He said as he came up behind you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, along with a scent that was just distinctly Peter, making your heart pound in your ears. You turned around and leaned against the counter as you looked into his eyes.

“Well how do you feel now?” You asked with unwavering eye contact.

“I feel like those feelings never left.” He admitted. You had never heard such confidence in his voice and it was just the thing to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Hm. Interesting.” You shrugged and turned back around. It was almost like you could hear the disappointment in the air once you had your back to him again. You decided not to torture him forever and give in to what you both wanted.

“Peter?” You asked and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Clear the countertop.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

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@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

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@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

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@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[targs-on-zorses]

Sweet Favours

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower/Lady-in-Waiting!Reader Warnings - Nice, hot smut, mild choking, fingering, some riding, gwayne being cocky, a little bit of fluff, tourneys and jousting, a little bit of blood, reader is not described in any detail other than being of House Mullendore of Uplands Summary - “If I might request a favour, my lady.” “Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight.” “Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.” Word count: 4732

A/N - Wow. I genuinly cannot believe I have finished this. I started it not long after Ser Gwayne Hightower graced our screens, and it is now, what? two? three weeks later? I would like to thank my hype-people: @thenameswinter99 whose reactions to my tiny excerpts made my day, @barbieaemond, Liv my partner in crime who has assisted in fanning the flames with this fic, and @just-some-random-blogger. We will continue to torture you with gifs. Accept it. This is your life now. And also to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta reading. Dividers are mine own. It is possible there will be a part 2.  (the fic will be up on AO3 shortly. Use the link in my masterlist)

Good weather for a tourney, you thought. Nary a cloud in the sky, the bright sun beating down on the cobblestone path leading to the arena. The sounds of blades being sharpened and hammers striking on metal. There was a buzz of excitement in the air. It had been some years since Oldtown had hosted a tourney of its own. But now, the seats had been cleaned, the lords box furnished. Bunting linked building to building along the narrow streets of Oldtown. 

It had been some years since you, as lady-in-waiting to Lady Lynesse Hightower, had last attended a tourney. You peeked out of the carriage, watching as people streamed towards the arena, some carrying flags in every shape and colour. 

A raven had arrived from Kings Landing a month ago, bearing the news that the Queen, Alicent Hightower, cousin of your lord, had given birth to another son, Aemond Targaryen. Lord Ormund had decided to host a tourney in his honour, although none of the royals, nor their immediate vassals, were able to make it.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to the stadium. You stepped out of the carriage, graciously accepting the hand of the squire waiting, lifting your skirts to keep them out of the dirt on the streets. Your lady followed behind you.

A handsome young knight stood at the entrance. You smiled, admiring his pleasant features, the warm blue eyes, the bow shaped lips, soft golden hair.

“Good morrow, cousin,” Lady Hightower greeted.

“Good morrow, my Lady,” the knight responded. “Perfect day for a joust, is it not?”

“It is,” Lady Lynesse concurred. “I wish you luck, good cousin, at the lists.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

Ser Gwayne bowed, stepping aside to let the lady pass. 

As you passed him yourself, curtseying briefly, he put out a hand to stop you.

“A moment, Lady Mullendore.”

You followed him inside, cloistered in a hidden alcove right by the doors. 

“If I might request a favour, my Lady.” He had that grin on his face that suggested his thoughts were anything but innocent. Not that the way he said ‘my Lady�� had you thinking innocent thoughts either, as you clenched your thighs together at his words.

“Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight?” you said, smiling sweetly. 

“Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.”

“Oh, you are most bold, good ser,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks redden at his words. And that little smirk that he always seemed to have plastered on his face. Seven save you, you loved that smirk.

A small group of people squeezed past the opening you were concealed in. So you stretched up, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Then you turned away to rejoin your lady.

A hand grasped your arm, pulling you back into the shadows.

“Gwayne!” you chastised. “I must return to my-”

His hand snaked around your waist, tugging you up against his body. A single finger lifted your chin, angling your face towards his, and he stared hungrily at your lips. He bit his lip, moving his hand to grasp your chin, running a thumb over your parted lips.

“Not that sort of kiss,” he whispered, seductively.

Then his lips were on yours. This was no gentle kiss, like the ones exchanged so early in the mornings. Sweet it was not. He pulled your face to his, pushing his tongue into your mouth. His hand tightened at your waist. 

Your hands stretched up, tangling themselves in his soft, golden hair. Your heart pounded in time to the movements of his tongue. He tasted of the sweet wine he liked, probably drinking small amounts to calm his nerves before the joust. 

He pushed forwards, backing you into a wall, completely devouring your mouth., pressing the evidence of his own arousal into your thigh. A moan escaped you. Seven save you, this kiss…

He pulled away abruptly, swiping his thumb over your lips again before departing with a satisfied smirk on his face.

He vanished so quickly, it took a moment for your body and mind to catch up. You raised a hand to your lips, remembering the passionate way he claimed them. 

Voices sounded just outside, and you remembered where you were.

Lady Hightower would be looking for you. You could only pray she had no idea what you had just been doing. You straightened your skirts and hair as best you could, and made your way to the Lords’ box overlooking the arena.

“Where have you been?” she snapped as you hurriedly entered and found your seat.

“My apologies, my lady,” you muttered, but she had already looked away.

You sat in the front row. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, you did not yet know.

From here, you could see everything. You would be able to see if he was hurt. Or killed.

You did not want to dwell on it. 

The knights paraded and preened. You knew half of them were not worth the armour they wore. 

“The Tyrells sent a measly bunch,” Lady Lynesses muttered to another lady. You did not disagree. 

“Hmm, it does not look like we will have much entertainment, my Lady,” another woman said.

You ignored them and watched as the jousts commenced. However, they were not wrong.

In the very first tilt, a young Tyrell squire not only knocked his opponent off his horse, but himself as well. Later, a Blackbar knight cuffed himself round the head with his own mace.

A measly lot indeed.

A brief lunch of venison was served. No sign of any of those veteran knights yet, though. 

By the afternoon, you were bored. The morning had been relatively uneventful, lunch equally so. You were eager for the new round of tilts to begin. And to see who would be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty.

A few unimpressive knights rode out, bashing each other.

Finally, he rode out, sat proud atop that big black horse of his. His helmet was off, tucked under his arm, letting his golden hair shine in the sunlight. He held his lance in the other hand, meaning all that kept him on that horse were those strong thighs of his. You flushed, thinking of how it felt to have those thighs under you as you rode him into oblivion.

He rode twice around the arena, scanning the crowds. His eyes searched for you. Finally, he stopped in front of the box, beckoning you over with a movement of his head. You stood to lean against the barrier keeping you from falling onto the sand below.

“May I ask that you grant me your favour, Lady Mullendore?” he said, a graceful smile dancing across his face. You did not see the sour look Lady Hightower directed at you.

“Unfortunately, good ser, my favour is only given to those who will win,” you teased.

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I will win this tourney, then, my Lady,” he assured.

You giggled, taking your favour from the arm of your chair. He tilted his lance towards you and you dropped the favour along its length. He nodded his head in thanks and rode off again.

He prepared himself for the first tilt, putting on his silly helmet - you always giggled when he wore it. 

His opponent prepared himself similarly, some knight of House Florent. A cousin, perhaps?

You held your breath as they charged towards each other. You knew Gwayne had been injured previously in jousts. He was well now, but still, you worried. 

You wanted to look away, but you could not tear your gaze away from these two men, charging towards each other, lances held at the ready.

There was a crack, and the Florent knight went flying off his horse, landing with his legs at strange angles on the ground.

Gwayne rode a victory lap as the young knight was carried off to the maester’s tent.

As his next opponent struggled to get on his horse, Gwayne nodded to you, promising you victory. 

He unhorsed every opponent he faced with practised ease. Downing the ones that dared to try for victory on the ground. He certainly was bashed a few times, almost, almost, downed from his horse at others. But today it seemed the Gods themselves too had blessed him with their favour. 

The final tilt, however, you would deny you were terrified. For now he faced your own uncle, Ser Paxton Mullendore, a hardened veteran of many a battle and many a tourney. In fact, he was near undefeated, and would tell anyone who would listen that the only man to successfully unhorse him had been Daemon Targaryen at the Heirs Tourney some years ago. Gwayne too had been there, and Daemon too had unhorsed him. 

Suffice to say, you feared for him. 

You could see Ser Paxton glaring at him, and the favour on his lance. He knew it was yours, and he was displeased. 

Ser Paxton pulled down his visor and charged. Gwayne too. You gripped the hands of your chair tightly, hardly daring to breathe.

The crash of lance on shield. Gwayne barely clung to his horse, his lance in pieces.

They went in for a second charge.

Another crash.

This time it was Ser Paxton who fell. He immediately called for his sword. His pride would not allow Gwayne to win so easily. In fact, he often boasted of how he was better with his sword than atop a horse. Ser Paxton wielded a mighty mace, the sort of one you had seen bend swords and smash armour such that it looked as though a dragon had landed on their chests. 

You clung tighter to the decorative arms of your chair, eyes wide and fearful.

Gwayne did not notice, still holding his shield, arms wide and savouring his victory.

Paxton swung his mace.

“Gwayne!” you screamed. He turned to find a mace flying towards his head and ducked at the last moment.

Your relief was short-lived, as Paxton swung again, shattering Gwayne’s shield to splinters, your brave knight falling to the floor.

He dodged again and again, crawling towards the wooden barrier in the middle.

As Paxton smashed through the fence, Gwayne stuck his foot out, tripping up the large, mace-wielding man.

Ser Paxton fell to the ground unmoving. You gasped, staring in horror even as the crowd cheered. Even Gwayne was concerned, his fingers digging through the neck piece, trying to find a pulse.

Suddenly, Paxton jerked, sitting up. You breathed a sigh of relief. He and Gwayne seemed to talk for a moment before the latter pulled the former to his feet.

You smiled and clapped, overjoyed that both were alive.

Gwayne helped your uncle to the maesters, before mounting his horse once again for a victory lap. He was handed back his lance, now adorned with the wreath of yellow roses, the colours of House of Tyrell, their overlords.

He galloped twice around again, the ladies whispering to themselves, “Who will he choose?” He finally stopped in front of you, angling his lance such that the wreath slid down into your lap.

Suddenly, every eye was on you. Murmurs spread around the stadium. Gwayne still sat atop his horse below you, giving a gentle smile and an encouraging nod. 

You ignored the hiss of displeasure from Lady Hightower, and raised the flower crown, placing it on your head. The crowd cheered and clapped, and Ser Gwayne bowed before riding away to have his own wounds seen to.

The tourney over, the audience gathered themselves and prepared to leave.

You rushed off, partly to avoid whatever withering words the other ladies-in-waiting had to say to you, but mostly to avoid the wrath of Lady Lynesse Hightower. The look on her face as you had been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty was one you hoped to never see again.

You had arrived in Oldtown at ten, ready to serve Lady Lynesse as a lady-in-waiting. But from the moment you were introduced to her by your father, Lord Mullendore, she had shown nothing but contempt that bordered on hatred for you.

When your father presented you, she had her nose up at you and said, “Well, I was not expecting her to be so… plain. I was told you were a great beauty. Perhaps you will grow into one.”

But, according to her, you could do nothing right. In the halls of the Hightower, you were alone and friendless. The other ladies followed Lynesse’ lead and scorned you. You missed your home, Uplands. You missed your family, your father, your mother, your brothers, and uncle Paxton, although he visited often. You sought companionship in the books in Oldtown’s many libraries. You engrossed yourself in the history and giggled as you read books like A Caution for Young Girls as you read it in the privacy of your chambers. 

It was when you were eight-and-ten that you attracted the attention of Ser Gwayne Hightower, your Lady’s cousin and the son of King Viserys’ Hand. 

Initially, you had waved it off as just some silly pacing fancy, after all, knights had that all the time. After all, as your lady said, cruelly, “What man could possibly want such a plain girl as you?”

But he was honest in his interest, and the two of you began to court, secretly of course. Lady Hightower would have a fit, and she was most fond of suggesting other women for him, though he always refused.

It was on the night of your twentieth name day that he took you into his bed. He was careful, and gentle, and everything you had imagined and more. The both of you knew Lady Hightower would never let you wed, so these stolen, secret moments were all you had.

You loved him, you knew it. How could you not when he was gentle, and kind, and every bit the knight he was painted to be?

What you did not know, however, was if he felt the same about you. He may call you, “my love,” but that was not the same.

You quietly made your way to Gwayne’s chambers. It would not do if you were caught together. Lady Hightower would use it as an excuse to get rid of you. It simply was not worth the same and disgrace that would fall on your family.

Today, he had already gone too far. You intended to tell him as much. Kissing you just before the tourney in an alcove where anyone could’ve peeked in and seen you? Crowning you Queen of Love and Beauty in front of thousands?

Perhaps, though, you would scold him after you lay with him. As dangerous as that kiss was, it had left you unsatisfied and wanting for more. And it would butter him up and make him more agreeable to slowing down.

You walked in, expecting to find the room empty, only to see Gwayne standing with his back to the door, sipping some wine. You spotted his armour peeking out of a chest to the side of the wine table.

He turned as the door closed, his eyes darkening as he beheld the low dress you wore. You had been tugging it down as you made your way here.

He was still wearing his green woollen tunic that he wore under his armour. The buckles were undone, as was the loose linen shirt he wore under that.

He took another sip of wine, tilting his head as he admired you. He placed the glass back on the table, and took a step towards you.

You were withering under his heated gaze, but you stood firm. He liked to tease. Now it was your turn.

“I was going to wait for you,” you said, the corners of your plush lips lifting flirtatiously. “I was thinking I’d lay naked in your bed.”

Gwayne smirked. “Such a shame, then, that I’m already here. It would have been a most delectable sight to behold.”

That way he said delectable, pronouncing every syllable, had you biting your lip an effort not to moan. A wave of need coursed through you..

He stepped towards you again, still giving you that smirk that made you want to rip your clothes off and let him give you exactly what you longed for.

“Perhaps I’ll leave and come back later, leave early from the feast,” you whispered, all desire to tease rushing out of you. You did not know how much longer you could keep this up.

“It would be a shame if you had to walk all the way back down, leaving me here alone and wanting for you,” he rasped, his voice going deep with desire.

“Like the way you left me earlier.” You tried not to moan as you felt his breath on your neck.

“Would you touch yourself while naked in my bed?” he hummed, a hand ghosting over your cheek. “Would you pleasure yourself, imagining that it was my cock that brought you to peak?”

You no longer knew words. Seven save you from this man and his vile tongue that made you feel nothing but insatiable lust. 

“And would I then arrive, finding you covered in a sheen of sweat, and then would I plunge myself inside your sweet cunt until the only thing you can remember is my name?”

You let out a whine at his words. He teased you relentlessly, barely touching you. You reached out to grasp his solid arms, trying to pull him closer. You wanted him to touch you, badly. 

“Gwayne,” you whine, the heated tension becoming unbearable.

“Yes, sweet lady?” he says, licking his lips. “Is it all too much, this teasing? Not unlike the way you have teased me all day wearing a dress such as this.” He tugs on the laces on the front of your dress making you gasp. “What is it, my love?” he says as he ghosts his lips over your neck again. You let out an aching whine. You were desperate for him to do anything, anything but keep on talking. “What? You want me to stop?” he says. Yes. You wanted him to stop teasing you with his filthy words. You wanted him to push you on his bed and strip you of your restrictive clothing. You wanted him to fuck you mercilessly until all you know is his cock. He chuckled darkly, seeing your pained expression. “Look at you, so needy.” You whimpered again. He finished unlacing your gown, finding you wearing no corset or smallclothes underneath it. You gulped, feeling the sensitive tips of your breasts brush against the cloth of your dress with every breath. “Oh, you naughty lady, wearing nothing under such a dress.” 

You give up. You can’t take it anymore. You need to touch him. You need him to touch you.  You grab his face between your hands and pull it to yours. The kiss is messy and filthy, and oh so terribly brief. He pushed you off him, holding your face between his hands, panting just as wildly as you. You whined desperately, straining to pull him back

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growled.

Then he pounced. He tore the dress off your shoulder letting your breasts free. He gripped your face and pulled your lips back together. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet. You shimmied out of your dress, leaving yourself bare. He cupped his hands around your behind, squeezing as he lifted you up and spread your legs around his waist. You ground against his clothed cock, sighing into his mouth as little sparks of bliss shot through you.

He carried you to the bed, divesting himself of his tunic, still continuing his relentless assault of your mouth. He withdrew gently, a stark contrast to the violent way he had kissed you, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, tugging at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off. 

He ignored your tugs, and latched his lips to the peak of your breast, as his hand worked its way between your legs, gently brushing your pearl. You moaned loudly, fingers clenching the silk sheet beneath. His fingers were pure heaven. You pulled again at his shirt, as his fingers entered your cunt, opening you up for him, skillfully brushing the spot inside you that made you keen. You clutched his arms, your nails digging into the flesh leaving angry red marks.

“Fuck, my love, you feel so good and wet,” he panted, trailing hot, wet kisses to your neck. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sweet lady.”

And you did. You rode them, broken moans and whimpers spilled out of you. Your peak washed over you quickly, his fingers pumping in and out of you, drawing it out. 

He didn’t give you long to recover from the intensity of your peak. He allowed you to pull his shirt off, revelling in the pale expanse of muscle, and the few scars that litter his chest and stomach. You pressed a few kisses to the ones on his chest before he pushed you back down and started untying his breeches. 

“Keep yourself wet for me, sweet lady. Touch yourself.”

You moaned, doing as he says and letting your fingers gather up the wetness from your centre, preparing yourself for him.

He pushed his breeches down revealing his beautiful cock, hard and red. You took your hand, slick with your juices and pumped him a few times. But when you went to put it inside, he stopped you, sitting up further, leaving his cock far away from where you craved to sheethe it.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted. “Only good, sweet ladies get to be fucked. Have you been good, sweet lady?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Please, Gwayne, please, I've been good.”

He continued to stroke his cock, right in front of you. You groaned. He so loved to torment you like this. “Have you? Really?”

“I've been good, Ser. Please, let me have your cock, Ser!” You babbled, delirious with need, your hands reaching out for him. 

“Hmm, I suppose you have been,” He said, and suddenly leaned forward and slid his cock into your drenched cunt. 

You moaned in unison. The walls of your cunt stretched to accommodate him. Gwayne was by no means large, but he always seemed to fill you up perfectly. It was heaven, finally having him inside.

He gave you a moment to adjust, waiting for you to nod that you were comfortable, before he seized a hand, holding it above your head and pounded into you, mercilessly. 

Your breasts bounced, brushing your sensitive nipples on his chest. Wanton moans spilled out of you now. Every thrust of his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

“That's it,” he whispered into your ear, lightly biting the flesh below it. “You feel so good, my dear, squeezing my cock like that.”

All coherent words had left you, and you could only babble in agreement. 

“Gods you feel so good, such a sweet, wet little cunt.”

Your moans grew louder, and you clung hard to his shoulders. You probably left nail marks in his back, but you were too lost in your pleasure to care. 

The walls of your cunt fluttered, signifying that you were close. Your moans became louder and higher in pitch. 

“That's it, sweetness,” Gwayne grunted, shifting so he could watch your face as you came. “Come for me, right on my cock.”

He brought a hand between you, rubbing your pearl. 

Your walls clenched around him as you screamed, you back arching. 

He wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you down as he fucked you through your peak, his own quickly following as he spilled inside you. 

He collapsed on the bed next to you.

You both lay there for a moment, catching your breath. You rolled over to look at him. He never looked more beautiful than he did in this moment. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and chest. His bow shaped lips were parted. His chest heaved.

You loved him. There was nothing else. You loved how he looked in the moments after. 

You lay on your sides, facing each other. Your hands entwined as you stared deep into each other's eyes. His were blue, like the sea, and always glinted with mischief. 

“I have something for you,” he rasped. His voice was always delightfully husky after you fucked. You loved it, and the way it left you wanting for more.

“Gwayne,” you sighed, “we can’t.” 

This was a rule established early on, no gifts to be exchanged, and today, he’d already broken it, gifting you the flower crown. 

“No one will know it was from me,�� he insisted. You took one look at his pouty face, his eyes wide and pleading. He knew how to make you melt, and melt you did. He just looked so sad, like a puppy pleading for pets.

“Fine,” you conceded. 

He smiled wide, and rolled over to grab something from the bedside table. He brought out a box. It was wide and flat, covered in green leather with silver hinges and clasp.

You sat up a little, leaning on your elbow, and took the box from him. 

You opened the box and gasped. Inside was the most exquisite necklace you’d ever seen.

The shape of it reminded you of how the beacon on the Hightower looked when alight. Green emeralds the size of your thumbs arranged in three seven pointed stars connected to a chain of intricate silver swirls. The two stars on either side of the middle contained a ruby at their hearts, while the centre one, and the larger of the three, framed a diamond, larger than any you had ever seen.

“Oh, Gwayne, it’s beautiful.”

He smiled. “Let me help you put it on, my love.”

You turned slightly, lifting your hair as he clasped it around your neck. You turned back to look at him, adjusting the way it lay across your chest.

“Hmm,” he hummed, openly staring at the way the centre charm sat right between your breasts, pointing downwards. “I think I rather like it too.”

You giggled, trying to ignore the heat that spread through your body at his words, and his gaze. You could now understand why it was designed the way it was.

“I think I’d like to fuck you wearing that necklace,” he said. “Hmm, perhaps I’d like you to ride me, so I can watch it bounce on those pretty breasts of yours.”

You bit your lip at his filthy words, heat already pooling in your gut. 

He gripped your hips, and you squealed as he lifted you onto his thighs, cock half hard already.

He plunged his hand between your legs, groaning at the feeling of your wetness. 

“Ride me, my sweet lady,” he commanded.

You gave his cock a good few pumps, before you sunk down, moaning at the stretch. His hands dug into your hips as you began to move, circling your hips.

You went slowly at first. Gwayne seemed to groan in frustration at your pace. You grinned, knowing how much you teased him now.

“I do not think this is quite riding me, sweet lady,” Gwayne grunted beneath you. He smacked your behind, the sharp pain and pleasure of it making you cry out. “Come now, love, ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock and let me watch those gorgeous sweet tits of yours.”

You did as he commanded, quickening your pace and truly fucking yourself on him. 

Your tits bounced, the necklace clinking with the movement. You moaned, relishing in the way his cock felt. 

He reached his hand up, cupping your bouncing breasts and letting your vigorous movements rub your sensitive nipples on his thumb. 

Your walls clenched around him. Your peak was approaching, fast. 

“That's it, love,” he groaned. “Fuck!”

You threw your head back as your peak washed over you, your pace stuttering as you attempted to ride him through it. 

He gripped your hips and rutted into you, a fourth peak closing in so soon after the last. 

You peaked, feeling his seed coat the walls of your cunt as you screamed his name and collapsed on his chest.

[ansel-rae562]

The new Doorman

[Doppleganger!Milkman x Reader]

°•°•°•°•°•°°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°°•°•°•°•

{Author's note: So I accidentally made a promise to a bunch of people in tiktok so here I deliver you a smut, please note this is my first writing one since I'm more into Angst and I also made this gender neutral as I can so yeah.. Enjoy!}

~°~°~°~°°~°~°~°~°~°~°°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

First day of Job being a doorman! finally you found a job, looking for one is a bit hard. And this is quite a high pay so why not but this one involves dealing with doppleganger's which is kinda dangerous but the D.D.D assured you that you'll be safe as long as you stay in your office.

After you watched the introductory film explaining about how the job works, you opened the metal window and saw the D.D.D personel

"Welcome and congratulations on your new Job! Remember you have to watch out carefully for the doppleganger's. There are times that the neighbors are not on the list, check their ID's closely and their appearance's as well, or else you and the others may end up dead.. That's all you may continue"

The personnel left and you decided to check the today's list

"Okayy.... So here will be the expected people..."

Izaack Gauss

Mia Stone

Albertsky Peachman

Elenois Sverchtz

Francis Mosses

Anastasia Mikaelys

"Wow... Uhuh that's quite alot....but nothing I can handle"

A few minutes later a person came "Good morning, I see you're a new doorman" The woman said as she handed in her ID "Good morning and Yes I am ma'am" You greeted then looked at her ID 'Gloria Schmicht'.... "Uh ma'am? May I ask why are you not in today's list?" You asked "Oh It's cause my mother had an emergency and I had to be there" After checking all the files and seeing almost no anomalies you called the apartment just in case and found out that the wife is actually home "Sorry nope, bye" you said immediately pressing the danger button and calling the D.D.D.

Hours passed by dealing with a few doppleganger's which some of them being visually creepy and threatening you till a man came, he was wearing a white button up shirt and a white hat that has 'Milkman' written on them. He looks tired, bags under his eyes showing then he spoke "Good afternoon, here's my ID and entry request" you stared momentarily before deciding to check all information, he also has an attractive voice which made you blush a little.

Learning that his name is Francis and he's the local milkman around town you couldn't help but have a little crush I mean he's attractive, his voice is also attractive, tired guys may or may not also be your type and he does have a pretty decent Job so he does perfectly fit your dream guy. Not long after it's finally night time and also the end of your shift, you packed your items that you brought with you then the one who'll exchange with you arrived "Hey..." She greeted "Hold on a sec, have to make sure you're the real one" you said checking all the workers files "Wow darling... Taking your job very seriously huh?.. impressive" she said with a subtle smile, she has green eyes and bags are shown under her eyes, she looks like she has been doing this for years.

"Well yeah... Don't want to lose a high paying job ya know" you replied and confirming that she's the real one "hmm, Understandable" you opened the metal door and she bid you goodbye "Careful darling, some doppleganger's are hostile and might attack you, here take this it's a 200v taser.... don't worry i have plenty" you thanked her and left to fo home. Walking home is kinda creepy especially at night, you wouldn't know when a creature of some sort is gonna pounce on you right now that's when you heard a rustle on a nearby bush then something jumped out.

It was cat... Quite a big one but it was injured on its side, you went closer and tried to reassure the cat "Hey... Hey there kitty, don't worry I'm a friend.." as you said those words the cat looked at you with a mix of hatred and confusion "I can help... I promise, I won't hurt you like whoever did that to you" The cat slightly calmed down and let you pick them up, you arrived home and put your bag down as well as settling the cat on your table and immediately finding the first aid.

You tended to the cat's wounds and surprisingly it just let you do your work, you winced to yourself finding that the wound is a bit deep "Gosh who would hurt a cat... They're sweet" finishing it up you wrapped the cat up with gauze "there you're all fixed up kitty... Hm.. i guess I could also feed you since you're at my house" you then went to your fridge to look for something to feed the cat and for yourself.

"You settling alright kitty?.." you asked, after feeding the cat you set up a box with a few soft rugs in them for the cat to sleep on and the cat looked at you with content eyes, chuckling lightly to yourself "you know it's amazing how your eyes can actually communicate, it's cute" you turned around to turn off the lights of you room "Night kitty..." You said finally falling asleep. The next morning you woke up and saw that the cat was nowhere to be seen and the window has few paw prints "Dang it I was planning on adopting him" you said sadly then started getting ready for the day.

Arriving at your workplace the girl from last night greeted you "Good morning darling!, did you have a good rest last night?" She asked "good morning, Yeah I did thanks for asking" you replied then she opened the metal door and went out "uh... You're not gonna check if I'm the real one?..." the girl turned around and said "Would you be asking that if you were a fake one?... And besides you're new it'll take a few days before they decide to copy you" she turned around again and left. Starting your shift like what you did Yesterday, letting a few people out giving them an entry request for when they come back, dealing with a few doppleganger's, letting people in once confirming that they're the real one till finally the guy from yesterday came; Francis "Hi mr. Milkman" you greeted, he looks a bit surprised when he saw you "Oh uh... Hello... " he said smiling slightly, you blushed then he handed you his ID only but you looked closely you saw he has a small mole on his left cheek which the real Francis didn't have. You kinda have memorized what he look and a few of his information from the files.... Kinda creepy of you but you couldn't help it, he was now your crush "Oh... I'm sorry, my good sir but I actually have this guy memorized and you're not him..." You said and before you could close the metal window you humped as he banged on the somehow sturdy window "What?!... How could!-... I see you like little mr. Milkman.. " the faker said his eyes were really angry and creepy "Yeah nope bye." you said then pressed the danger button and called for the D.D.D. Minutes later the metal window opened "There was no one in sight but I suppose the doppleganger already left before we arrive, you may now continue your work"

The day ended and you switched shifts with Loira, the name of the girl that you work with she bid you goodbye and you went home. Weeks later the things just go by on a repeat with some of them you going on a late night grocery, what's really interesting is that the doppleganger who always pretends to be Francis, he'd show up you find a small detail that the real Francis doesn't have, he'd get angry telling you things like "I'll get you next time" "I'll fool you one day" "Why are you so observative of the guy" then once you call for the D.D.D service he'd disappear before they could arrive like what's the deal with him?... Earlier he said something that actually sent shivers to your spine "Wait till I devour your fleshy body, Human" that was an actual pretty creepy threat, didn't realize that your already at your doorstep from a long day, you set down the groceries on the kitchen counter and went to take a quick shower and change.

After that you arranged all the groceries, it's pretty quiet around your house since you live alone, your parents on another country and your house is pretty far away from other residents so you'll be aable to hear anything out of the ordinary. Going up the stairs to sleep you decided to stretch around a little while you do so, you felt a weird sensation going up your leg, you looked down and a black substance of sorts but before you could scream another one covered your mouth as other one's quickly wrapped around your legs and arms separately, along your torso as well completely immobilizing you.

You looked around saw... Francis?... but his eyes are dark with white glowing dots on the middle "Hello... Doorman, I did say I will get you... Didn't I?" He spoke. You were confused, scared how did he know where you live? "Hey... Hey there... Little human, no need to get scared after all I'm a friend.... Aren't I?" That's when realization hit you. The cat that you helped was a doppleganger "you know human, you hurt me when you set your eyes on someone else... I thought you liked me?... Didn't you say so yourself?" He said which earned a muffled confused rambling from you "No... You must pay for making me believe you... " Before you could make another confused noise the tentacle like substance was removed around your mouth "What now-" you were cut off by something shoving into your mouth deeply making you gag, it was one of his tentacle.

[NSFW part]

He relentlessly attacked your mouth making you gag, you tried to squirm away but it was futile he has you wrapped around his other tentacle's. By then your eyes then started forming tears, you looked at the doppleganger of Francis which amused him "Look at you... Such an expression... I want more.. " he said. He set you down on your bed having your arms up above your head as he crawled between your legs "I did say I would devour your fleshy body... Don't worry it's not in a way I would eat you to the bone" he then slowly tore your garment earning a gaged up moan from you. He looked at you directly seeing that lewd expression from you also looking at him, he then slowly dipped his down between your legs which made you moan once again. You couldn't help but moan while he completely eats you out while also making you suck on one of his tentacle's, you were completely helpless making you take all of the pleasure like obedient slave.

That's when you felt something go in futher inside you, it felt like a very long tongue reaching up to the parts that you never could reach and hitting you perfectly on your spot making your body jolt and moan loudly than before "hmm?... is this your spot...?" He said while his tongue was still deep into you, he fastened up the pace than before almost a bit too fast than normal making your body more hotter and eager for a release. Not long after you came he adjusted himself, he humed in satisfaction "this will do..." He said then he removed the tentacle from your mouth as you looked at him with tired eyes "aww.... Already tired? Unlucky for you I'm not done yet" he adjusted his position, you didn't even notice that he entered you once again but this with his cock which made you yelp in surprise. He mercilessly pounded at a fast not giving you a preparation while his other tentacle's explore your exposed especially around your chest, waist and neck and his hands holding your thighs firmly to keep your shaking legs in place.

Release after release, you couldn't keep up anymore till you passed out from complete exhaustion and pleasure. He finally unsheathed his cock from you and loads mixed both of his and yours spilled out, staining the bed beneath the both of you. He then looked at your passed out form, your heaving chest, your belly slightly bulging and your beautiful sleeping face... "Such a perfect human.... I just wanna keep you" he fixed your sleeping form in a much comfortable position and pulled a blanket over before making his way to the telephone and dialed a number "Hello... Loira hey! I called a bit early so I could inform you that I'm sick..... Yeah please do.... Thank you I will bye!" He turned back to you and layed beside you "Rest now, my human...."

[deadsetobsessions]

Woo! I’ve finally got time to write! Had to go to a wedding, suffered through eight whole hours of pure disorganized mess, and got mad about it. Emphasis on the disorganized part. So, I bring you: party planner!Danny Phantom.

——

If anyone was to see him now, they’d definitely think that it was odd that Danny was the one in the party planning field. They wouldn’t be surprised if it was Jazz, but Danny ‘wing it’ Fenton planning things? Never.

But here he was, clipboard in hand and checking off hors d’œuvres from the list.

“Anton, could you do a check of the sound system? Make sure everything’s working?”

“Got it.”

Danny lifted the buffet table, laden with heavy food, and used a bit of his ghostly strength to move it over.

“Perfect.”

He double checked the seating chart, and readjusted the miniature ice sculpture centerpieces he made for the party.

Wayne Manor was all lit up and perfectly dusted. Danny ran through his mental checklist. Tabled? Check. Dance floor clean and scuff free? Check. DJ booth and open bar running without issues? Check. Live band setting up with back up instruments and strings? Check. Decorations on point? Oh, he’ll have to get the team to readjust those.

Time to check-

“Danny! How’s it going?” Bruce Wayne beamed and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Danny smiled politely. “Mr. Wayne. Everything is going smoothly. Would you like to check the food the chefs have made?”

“Sure, sure! I definitely need to eat before I drink, haha!”

“That’s a good idea! Good thing you’re about to try a bunch of food.” Danny matched the billionaire’s energy. He’s going to get paid so good.

“So, Danny, are you going to college?”

Danny passed him a small sampler. “Ah, I can’t. Some stuff happened in high school and I don’t really have the grades or the money to.”

Plus, his credentials were in another plane of existence and he hadn’t figured out how to transfer those records yet.

“You could still attend college, I’m sure! Your parents might be able to help pay?” Bruce nommed on the food. He gave a thumbs up.

Danny sighed. “It’s not always an option. Plus, my parents are dead.”

In this universe. His own? Alive and kicking GIW ass.

“Oh, I see-”

“Father.”

“Woah!” Danny blinked, looking down at the baby Wayne the popped up next to his father’s elbow.

“Damian! What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Damian shot his father a flat glare and dragged the laughing billionaire away.

Danny snorted and returned to his tasks. He has to check the speeches and the lighting. Hm… he doesn’t have time to adjust everything how he wants it.

Good thing he knew a guy that could stop time.

“Hey, Clockwork?”

——

“Father, I understand your inclination towards adopting poor black haired and blue eyed orphans, but I would like to remind you that I have far too many siblings to be adding yet another bumbling buffoon.”

“I was not considering that, Damian.”

Damian let go of his wrist with a grimace. “Denial is not becoming of a Wayne, Father.”

“Yeah, B. I could see you grab the adoption papers from all the way over here.” Tim adjusted his tie. “Anyways, Dick is on his way. He’s running a little late because of some stuff in Blüdhaven.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

——

“Batman.”

“Oracle.”

“Look at the footage of Wayne manor.” Oracle pulled up the video surveillance scattered through out the manor. Specifically, the ones of the west ballroom. Daniel Fenton stood in his spot, looking down at his clipboard but a second later, he's moved three inches to the left and the decorations had subtly been moved more aesthetic spots. "I think Danny might be a meta. We'll have to look into him."

Batman stood up, allowing the fondness he had for Danny as Bruce Wayne drain away. This is a potential threat, and Batman will treat him like one. (Danny will remember this.)

"Contact Flash. I need him to scan for any temporal disturbance."

"Understood."

——

"Brucie!" A socialite squealed as she came to bestow hugs upon a long suffering Bruce. "My god, this place is gorgeous! You must give me your planner's number. I could absolutely use some fresh eyes for the Annual Spring Party."

"Awe, Janine! I gotta keep some of the good things to myself!" Bruce whined, inwardly smirking as he saw his kids mock-gagging behind the lady's back. "What if your party's cooler than mine? What should I do then? You're already so gorgeous! Why, is that a Birkin?"

Janine lit up and all but forgot about getting Danny's contact information. Bruce patted his own back for a job well done, even if he had to listen to Janine's itemized list of random luxury goods she had to buy before being offered a bag.

He's a Wayne. The Gotham Hermes wished they could partner with the Waynes. Plus, he's pretty sure he's got at least three of those bags somewhere in the manor to bait out Selina.

Catching Danny sliding in between the servers and going towards the kitchen, Bruce quickly excused himself with a disarming himbo grin.

Time to subtly grill the kid.

——

"Hey, Timmy?"

"Hello, Dick," Tim smiled elegantly at the couple who's companies he was about to bring six feet underground and excused himself. "What's up?"

"Have you noticed that the ice sculptures haven't melted at all?"

Tim blinked, eyes sliding over to a harried Danny being followed by Bruce on a mission. Oof.

"Freeze?" He asked mildly, face innocent of any nefarious thoughts.

"That's what I'm thinking." Dick smiled sunnily, throwing an arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Heard the guy's living out near Crime Alley. We should get Jay to check it out." Tim pretended to laugh, grinning as his brains made plans for a stakeout.

"Heard, my ass. You totally stalked him, didn't you?"

"Got proof?"

Dick snorted, removing his arm. "Nope. I'll let Jay know. You should probably help Danny out, though, he looks like he's about to lose his temper."

"Bruce is at it again." Tim sighed. "Yeah, okay."

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Went To The County Fair”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, frenemies dynamic, emetophobics be cautious (no one actually gets sick it’s just mentioned), Sukuna is trying so hard to be nice

Word Count: 2.89k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always tries to give off the vibe that he’s too big and bad for anything. Everything is beneath him, everyone is merely a nuisance, and this Ferris wheel in particular is just too bland and boring for his tastes.

He acts like you held a gun to his head and forced him to come with you to the fair, but you really didn’t; if anything he forced you to let him tag along. You just happened to see a flyer in the mailbox and brought up that you were planning to go and he could tag along if he wanted to, the last thing you expected was for him to immediately start lacing up his boots and stuff his wallet into the pocket of his ripped black jeans, asking you a nonchalant “You ready?” not even a minute after you suggested it.

And now here you are, a decent train ride later and you’re at the top of the Ferris wheel sitting across from each other, looking down at the colorful lights of food stalls and amusement rides below you. You wanted to go on the Ferris wheel first since the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as a gentle breeze chills the evening air.

Sukuna’s gruff and uninterested voice breaks the peaceful silence, “You could’ve looked out the window at home for free.”

You’re scooted to the edge of your little cart, elbows perched on the rusty metal railing and your cheek rested on your palm, looking longingly between the colorful lights of the roller coasters down below and the changing hues of the sky, “The view’s not this pretty at home.”

All he can respond with is a hum, his arms stretched out across the railing behind him as he leans his back against the hard metal wall of the gently swinging cart. From the corner of your eye you’d swear you could see him watching you, but when you shift your gaze towards him his head has already turned to look down towards the carnival beneath you.

He outstretches his arm and points toward one of the rides, colorful lights spotted around the outside of its spaceship style design begin to transform into streams of light as the ride starts to spin and twirl around, “We’re doing that one next, too fuckin’ boring just sitting around.”

You turn your body towards him and give him a sarcastic grin, “What if all the spinning makes me sick?”

He scoffs, gently kicking your leg across from him with his combat boot, “If you throw up I’m pretending that I don’t know you.”

“Boo.” You roll your eyes at him and look back towards the fair as the Ferris wheel begins to spin. You reach your arm out of the cart and point at a ride in the distance, a large boat shaped contraption swinging back and forth before turning completely upside down, the passengers' screams echoing through the open air, “Would you go on that one?”

He gives you a sly grin, “Only if you go on it too, you didn't drag me along just to watch, did you?”

“I didn’t drag you here, you might as well have begged to come with me.”

“Oh fuckin’ please,” He leans towards you, propping his elbows on his knees and looking up at you, “You gave me those ‘lil puppy dog eyes when you showed me the flyer.” He mimics a dramatic pout, making you groan and press your sneaker onto his chest to push him away.

“You’re unbearable.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The metal steps creak below both of your feet as you and Sukuna step into the spaceship ride; the walls are round and covered in separate metal panels for each person to stand with their back against, and in the middle of the ride there’s a booth for the operator with large buttons and levers. You and Sukuna find two open panels on the wall and stand in front of them as the doors to the ride slide shut, leaving you both and everyone else blocked off from the festivities going on outside.

The operator looks bored as they flip a switch above their head, the lights dying off before you hear the clicking sound of buttons being pushed, rainbow lights streaming along the ceiling in swirling patterns above your head. Blaring loud techno music starts to blast from massive speakers in the operator’s booth as you feel your balance start to waver. Within seconds everyone’s backs are slammed into the wall, fits of giggles and startled screams surrounding you in the ride.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna and he’s already grinning at you, he tries to yell something to you but the music is far too loud to hear him. You open your mouth to yell “What?!” but instead a yelp is ripped from your chest as your entire body slides up the wall. He points up towards you and laughs, you try to kick him in the shoulder but the pressure of the ride spinning is keeping you effectively plastered to the wall, hardly able to move at all.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is somehow barely affected by it; deciding that it’s time to show off as he plants his palms onto the wall behind him and bends his knees to be completely off the ground. He stumbles back slightly on his first attempt to push himself up, but by the second try he’s crouching completely upright on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream out to him, but he can hardly hear you over the loud music and playful screams of everyone on the ride.

He’s got a massive grin plastered on his face as he stands to his full height so casually, as if the pressure of gravity just doesn’t affect him, taking a broad step over your stiff body to stand with his large combat boots on either side of your hips. He takes a knee over you, wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck and the other behind the small of your back, leaning forward and yelling into your ear.

“You’re coming with me.”

It feels like you’re going to fly back into the wall as he pulls you into his arms, his strong grip keeping your body flush against his as you try to raise your arms enough to wrap them around his neck.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

You can feel his breathy laughter on the crook of your neck as he lifts you up to stand with him on the wall, his hands never loosening their protective grip on you even as your feet plant themselves on the wall. He’s holding you so close, you’re not sure if your head is spinning more from him or the carnival ride. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, your head pressed flush against his broad chest and tilted up towards the flickering lights adorning the ceiling.

“Not so bad, see?” You can hear the grin in his voice, his lips brushing against your ear while he speaks to you, “Not gonna drop you, calm down.”

Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?

The pressure in your head starts to feel relieved, but at the cost of your balance as you stumble forward. Sukuna completely wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet, taking long strides backwards off the wall and back onto the floor as the ride slows to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” The operator is screaming over the music as the large doors slide back open, “You two! Off!”

Sukuna chuckles into your ear as he drops you onto your feet, “Oops.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I can’t take you anywhere-“

“Ugh, how was I supposed to know that guy would be such a pussy?”

“Sukuna!” You slap his arm, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

He just huffs and rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as you both walk side by side through the fair. You knew he was nothing but trouble, and you feel a little stupid for assuming he wouldn’t drag you down into his bullshit with him, but you’re stuck with him now; at least until your lease is up. Maybe you shouldn’t invite him out with you anywhere after this, but when you glance up at his stupid grumpy expression you get butterflies.

With a face like that it’s no wonder he gets away with anything.

He’s so… annoying. That’s what you like to tell yourself; it’s annoying that you can’t stay mad at him, that he gives you that smirk that makes your heart race, that he held you like that on the carnival ride. He drives you insane in all the best and worst ways, either waking you up in the middle of the night by being loud and obnoxious coming home drunk from a concert, or making you go crazy wishing he was home with you while he was out with his friends.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” He snaps you out of your trance.

“No.” You huff, breaking your gaze from his. Did you doze off while staring at him?

“Brat,” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you towards a pop up stall, the stall walls lined with balloons and stuffed animals, “You beat me in this and I’ll… behave for the next one.”

You scoff at him, “No you won’t.”

A small smile creeps onto the corners of his lips, “… Yeah you’re right.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, but he sidesteps in front of you, leaning down to match your height, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He smirks, “Winner picks out a tattoo for the loser.”

You laugh right in his face, “Absolutely fucking not!”

“What?” He gives you an exaggerated pout, “You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms and glare up at him, “You would make me get some kind of gang tattoo.” You say sarcastically.

He mutters under his breath, “Shit, am I that predictable?”

“Sukuna!” You kick him in the shin.

“Fine, fine. Piercing.”

You look over at the plastic machine guns mounted onto the edge of the stall, noting a toppled over “out of order” sign next to the red gun. Maybe it’s a bad idea to humor him, but you know damn well he’d pick that red gun over the baby pink ones surrounding it, you might be able to play dirty if he hasn’t noticed the sign that fell over.

A grin paints your lips as you look back at him, “You’re on.”

His head cocks to the side slightly, “Really?” He looks genuinely surprised, but definitely not disappointed, “Shit, that was easy.”

He strides over to the stall, planting himself right in front of the red gun, exactly where you want him. You suppress your smile as much as you can as you walk up beside him, wrapping your finger around the trigger of the pink gun next to him. He’s looking down at you so cocky as the game attendant counts down for you both to start.

“Three!”

“You know…” He leans down towards you to speak into your ear.

“Two!”

“I know a guy who does eyelid piercings.” He states smugly.

“One!”

Like clockwork, you start peppering through the balloons while his gun immediately jams.

His brows furrow in frustration and you look towards him, giving him a mischievous smirk, “You’ll have to give me his number.”

As the game comes to a fast end, you learn that Sukuna is such a sore loser, grumbling about how that was “fucking rigged” and that you’re “a dirty little cheater,” but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You doubt he’ll hold up his end of the bet, and you’re not really that concerned about it to be honest, that frustrated look on his face is more than enough of a prize.

“Yeah yeah,” You giggle, “I’m just the worst huh? I’m gonna run to the bathroom, how about you win me something while I’m gone?”

He shoots a glare down at you, “No promises.”

“Oh yeah, because you fucking suck at these games, right?” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face, you just can’t help but smile, it’s a nice change of pace for you to be the one getting on his nerves for once.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Something about Sukuna is suspicious when you meet him back at the games. His grin has returned once again and he’s holding one of his hands behind his back. His eyes light up when they catch yours, taking long strides to meet with you.

He leans down to be eye level with you, keeping his hand tucked away behind him, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t…” You look up to his eyes but his gaze flickers away from you.

“Shut up. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

You let out a sigh, shutting your eyes and holding your hand out in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as something cold and squishy lands in your palm, “What the fuck…?”

“You know how you said you wanted a pet?”

You open your eyes and are greeted with… a goldfish. A little tied off plastic baggie dripping condensation onto your skin as the tiny fish swims in panicked circles, “Sukuna!”

“What?” He stands up straight, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I thought you’d like it.”

“When I said I wanted a pet I meant, like, a dog!”

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, “Well you won’t let me get a cane corso, so-“

“Because they’re a hundred and fifty pounds.” You mutter over him.

“Say hello to Brat Junior.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He’s definitely not kidding if the grin on his face is saying anything, he takes a step forward and pokes the bag, watching the fish squirm inside, “He’s got your attitude.”

“Oh my god,” You rub your temple with your free hand, “We need to go get a fish tank.”

“We’ve got bowls at the house.”

“No! We are not mistreating this fish, asshole.”

“Don’t call him fish, he has a name.” He declares sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mutter curses under your breath, “Brat Junior needs a tank. A real tank, with a filter.” You pull Sukuna by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along behind you, “There’s a pet store around the corner, let’s go before they close. And you’re paying.”

“Hey, why am I paying for this shit? It’s your pet.”

“It was your stupid idea!”

You both leave the loud chaos of the fair, walking along the quiet sidewalks to the pet store. The skies have gone dark now, the moon making itself at home above you as you cradle your beloved Brat Junior in both of your palms, trying to keep the water in his bag from swaying too much.

You and Sukuna bicker the whole walk there until you make it to the sliding glass doors of the pet store, quiet music playing through the speakers as you walk across the shiny white floors to the fish section. You both split up so he can pick up a tank while you sort through food, but shortly after he walked away he’s already making his way back to you.

“We’re gonna have to flush Brat Junior.” He says plainly.

You defensively clutch the fish close to your chest, “Absolutely not!”

He rests his elbow on one of the shelves lining the wall, leaning his side against it, “Then you’re paying for half of the fish tank.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “You broke now?”

“Lady at the counter said he’ll get,” He straightens his fingers on each hand, placing them together like a prayer before parting them about a foot away from each other, “This big.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wish I was joking, the tank is $600.”

You blow a raspberry, slumping your back against the wall and looking down at the goldfish in your palms. You’re silent for a moment, but then you let out a reluctant sigh, “I’ll pay half, but you’re carrying it on the train ride home.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hold your apartment door open, watching Sukuna maneuver the giant 40 gallon fish tank through the small doorway, “Got it?”

He grunts in annoyance, “A little help would be nice.”

“Ooh, about that,” You hold the little plastic baggie up in your palm, “My hands are full with the baby.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, carrying the fish tank into the tiny apartment, “Should’ve fuckin’ flushed him.”

You let out a mock gasp, cupping the goldfish in both of your hands and holding it up to your face, cooing at it, “Did you hear that? Your father doesn’t love you.”

Sukuna placed the tank onto a long empty table against the wall before flopping on his back onto the couch. His eyes flicker between you and the fish for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his lips.

“I knew you’d like that little fucker.”

A/N: Fun fact did u know that those fair fish grow to be 12 inches long? Unfortunately this fic is based on true events of when my boyfriend and I won TWO OF THEM at the fair and had to spend $600 on a fish tank for them (rip my wallet). Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[breadbrobin]

fate

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

[part 2 to the trees]

summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.

warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway

word count: 3.2k

(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)

(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)

———————————————

the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.

this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.

ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.

curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.

you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.

your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.

why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.

stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.

“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.

“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”

“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.

“y/n, wait up!”

you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.

“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.

“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.

you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”

your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.

“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”

clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”

that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.

she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.

“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.

your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“

“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”

you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.

“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”

“uh…”

“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”

“she’s nice to me,” you protested.

“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”

did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”

he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”

you nodded absently. “maybe.”

“great, it’s a date!”

you frowned. “it’s a what?”

he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.

when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.

“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”

“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”

your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”

she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.

you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.

“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.

she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”

you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”

she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.

“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

well, that hurt.

“yeah, we’re just—“

“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”

your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”

“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.

“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.

she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.

then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.

“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”

you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”

you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.

her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.

you stepped back and turned, marching away.

“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”

“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.

you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.

it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?

or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.

whatever it was, it put you on edge.

there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.

you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.

your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?

you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.

the future was not looking promising.

there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.

you turned around.

the bushes were rustling.

you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.

mandibles.

two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.

there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.

“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”

you turned and ran.

the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.

where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.

then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.

“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.

you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.

it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.

you were beginning to lose hope.

honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.

just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.

it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.

as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.

“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.

“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.

just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.

she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.

“i dropped my—“

“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.

the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.

you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.

“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.

“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.

“you could have died!”

“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”

finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.

you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.

you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.

once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.

you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.

“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.

“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.

“everyone knows they’re there.”

“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”

“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.

“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”

“i don’t need your defending.”

“and i don’t need your help!”

“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.

“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.

she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“

“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.

“what?”

“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”

there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.

she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”

“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”

“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”

“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.

“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.

“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“and i didn’t want to help you!”

“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”

she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”

the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer.

it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.

so you did.

she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.

when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.

she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.

“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”

clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”

“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”

“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”

“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”

“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.

“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”

she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”

you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.

fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.

and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?

[darknight3904]

You're a Liar

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋᴇʟᴇᴛᴏɴꜱ ɪɴ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴛ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ʙᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴛᴅ ꜱᴏ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ/ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ʀᴏᴛ.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The way the sun just barely peaked through the curtains and shimmered its way across the bedspread made your shared room with Coriolanus look simply divine.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The delicious scent of bacon and freshly cooked pancakes wafted through the mansion and under your closed door. The promise of fresh orange juice and perfectly hot coffee was enough to rouse anyone from their slumber.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. Coriolanus is still asleep beside you. Curly hair is splayed on the pillow, free from whatever styling gel he put in it. His face is relaxed and peaceful as you run your fingertips across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. The stress of being president is gone from his face when he sleeps and that's how you know, mornings are your favorite time of day.

"I can feel you staring at me."

His voice was still muddled with sleep, deep and scratchy as he batted at your hands trying to keep them off his gorgeous face.

"I'm appreciating the art in front of me," You smile as he finally opens his eyes.

"Your hands on my face are making my nose itch." He says grabbing your right hand and gently squeezing it as he sits up beside you.

You hum a tune of acknowledgment and take in his appearance. Coriolanus' pale skin was a wonderful sight to behold as the blanket slipped and fell into his lap.

"You're staring again." He says playing with your fingers

"An incredibly attractive man seems to be missing his shirt, can you blame me for staring?" You state a playful smile pulling on your lips.

Coriolanus lets out a snort and gets out of bed with a grunt. Long red scratches adorn his back as you watch your fiancee walk across the room towards the bathroom, ready to scrub last night's activities off himself.

Yes, mornings were your favorite time of day. You had warm sunshine, delicious food, and Coriolanus by your side.

But, most of all, mornings were your favorite because you weren't alone.

Coriolanus never truly wanted to leave the bedroom he shared with you. Even now as you groaned and begged him to just lounge around the mansion with you, he wished he could go back to when he felt your soft fingertips brushing the bridge of his nose. He had woken up beside you, cleaned himself, and eaten a wonderful breakfast, now the next step was simple. The next step was attending to his duties as the President of Panem and leaving you to your day in the south wing of the mansion. Despite the tempting idea of staying with you, he knew you'd be eagerly awaiting him, tonight at the dinner table, ready to listen about his day. It was the perfect daily routine and Coriolanus never wanted it to change.

He could feel the press of your lips on his lingering hours later as the newest Head Gamemaker listed detailed plans for the games that were two months away. Dr. Gaul's death had been a blow to the way the Hunger Games functioned as a whole. Now, Coriolanus wasn't sure if the new man chosen for the job was truly the correct choice, he didn't have any of the ruthlessness Gaul had. Sure, he could've stepped in but how would he run the country and dream up deadly traps and mutts for tributes. Sure, he probably could've but that meant so many hours of overtime and leaving you to sleep alone in those overly soft sheets you had hand-picked for your shared bed. This new game maker would just have to do, he didn't want to imagine your sad little face if he didn't sit down for dinner with you each night.

The hours after Coriolanus left you at the breakfast table were terribly boring. There wasn't anything for you to do anymore.Sure, you could've gone shopping or gone to a local park but you hated doing all those things alone. Coriolanus had convinced you that running your Father's weapons company would be overwhelming for you and managed it in your name. As far as you knew it was doing well and was providing many jobs for people in the districts. Everything else in the mansion was tended to by an army of maids and butlers, who were ready at the snap of a finger. So, here you sat in your sunroom that Coriolanus had built as a special place just for you.

You had taken up painting nearly a year ago but your long days of solitude had caused you to quickly run out of inspiration. Now, the paints and easel sat, awaiting your touch but your creativity was gone. You missed Coriolanus and he wouldn't return for another hour. Surely dinner was nearly ready and you wished you were sitting with him, listening to whatever he had spent his day doing. Perhaps you should start a new book before he returns. That'd give you something to tell him about when he did come back.

Maybe the extensive in-home library here would have a book about a lonely woman, wishing for her lover. Maybe there'd be a book all about her and how she spent her days without him and how to pass the time. Maybe, there'd be a book all about her mornings with him and how she never wished for them to come to an end.

It was during these long days that you felt like the loneliest woman in all of Panem. Moments like this made it feel like you were a delicate china doll, only removed from her case to be admired for a few spare moments before being placed back on her shelf.

Two Years Later

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at over the past few months, especially since Coriolanus stopped allowing you to leave the grounds of the mansion. You watched as the boy you grew up with and danced at countless galas faded from view. You tried to welcome the man who sat across from you eating his dinner but it was had more and more difficult as the weeks bled into months and months turned to years. Coriolanus even seldom kissed you now. It hurt even though you knew it was for your own safety. He had admitted it one night in the darkness of your room as he lay beside you. Poison had created sensitive sores in his mouth. You wished he'd stop using it, surely there had to be other ways to do away with enemies.

You felt as though you were withering away, your days were so tedious and you often found yourself eagerly waiting at the dinner table for Coriolanus. Your long days were spent in isolation and you rarely spoke to the staff of the mansion. That didn't stop you from racing to the dining room when the sounds of Coriolanus' return sounded through the halls. Some days it felt like you were a child waiting to tell their parent about their day.

Tonight, it was like your words were falling on deaf ears as Coriolanus was paging through a book while nibbling at the food that had been placed in front of the two of you. Your engagement ring was a dazzling silver as you played with your fingers, wishing he'd look up from whatever knowledge that book might've held.

"Coryo..." You began

"Yes?"

His tone wasn't what you had hoped for. He was annoyed that you were interrupting whatever was on the page in front of him so you didn't elaborate on what you had wanted to say.

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at since there wasn't anything else for you to do.

It was raining the day you found them. You had spent most of the day lounging around and working with the wedding planner Coriolanus had hired so you wouldn't have to do all of the work yourself.

It was nestled in an old shoe box, covered in dust, perfectly hidden behind Coriolanus' clothes on his side of the closet. At first, you had thought it might have been more of Sejanus' things that Coriolanus never gave back to Strabo. Instead what you were met with was worse than a dead boy's things. There, wrapped up in a silky orange scarf sat a single golden earring and an envelope. You swore you could smell lingering perfume on the scarf as you opened the envelope.

It felt like your hands were burning when you finally looked at them. Surely they weren't real. Right?

Two pictures sat in your hands. One of Lucy Gray Baird on some unknown stage, a black guitar in hand. Her pretty dark curls were pulled back and behind her a small group of blurry faces were muddled together, unrecognizable due to the poor lighting. You felt a lump of anxiety and anger swell in your throat when you moved on to the next picture. It was taken as if the subjects of the photo had no knowledge of the camera. Lucy Gray sits on a dilapidated-looking couch with your Coriolanus beside her. Her face was partially obscured as she pressed her lips to his cheek and Coriolanus was smiling, his one arm wrapped securely around her waist.

How long had it been since he smiled like that at you? Perhaps it was even before the reaping that had brought her to the Capitol. When was the last time you saw a truly genuine smile from the boy you grew up with? You wondered how you had missed the way his boyish smiles had transformed into those cruel smirks he donned when things went his way.

Jealousy and sadness burned in your stomach as your mind raced. How long had it been since these photos were taken? It had been nearly 7 years since her games. Coriolanus' head was clearly buzzed in the photo with Lucy which meant it was after he was forced by Highbottom to leave the Capitol. How many times after his return to you had he assured you that nothing had happened between them? How many times had you believed him and his sweet words and actions? How many times had he lied and betrayed you all for another girl who mysteriously disappeared?

Betrayal is what you felt as you pocketed the pictures and slid the box back into its spot behind his fancy coats. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you dressed for dinner, Coriolanus would be back soon and you would confront him about the pictures once he was seated across from you at that dinner table you had sat at hundreds of times.

Dinner is silent as you pick at the cut of steak that was placed on your plate. Coriolanus is talking about how he's on the hunt for another head game maker and how annoying it is but you just can't help but not care. The table that separates you from him makes it feel like a huge ravine has grown between the two of you as you tune him out.

15 years is how long you've known Coriolanus Snow. In those 15 years, you had never dreamed of doing what you were about to do as you removed the pictures from where they sat hidden under your pretty skirt, a floral pattern Coriolanus had picked for your 27th birthday a few months ago. Your heart ached as you slid them across the table to him.

"I found these today. In our closet. Wrapped in your mother's scarf with a gold earring."

You finally have all of Coriolanus' attention as he swallows his food and stops his complaining.

"I thought you said it wasn't romantic. You promised me it wasn't."

Coriolanus glances down at the pictures and reaches out to brush his finger across the one with him and Lucy Gray on that couch.

"You promised, Coryo."

Your voice was breaking. Damn it, don't cry!

"I know I did."

He finally speaks. You wondered what was going through that ridiculously complex mind as he fumbled for his words.

"Then why did you lie? I would've listened if you had just told the truth to begin with." You honestly say.

It's true, you would've heard him out. Maybe you wouldn't have taken him back but you would have at least listened.

"I wasn't thinking straight, okay," He says " I should've told you. I should've gotten rid of that stuff years ago. I don't know why I didn't."

"Yes, you do." You sigh "You love her Coryo. Even now, you're looking for Lucy Gray. That's why you keep me here, you're scared I'll run off like her."

"No, no that's not it. I just...want you to myself." He reasoned

"If that were true you'd let me leave."

"Why do you need to? Everything anyone could ever wish for is right here in this home." He points out, you don't miss the way his fist is clenching, his nails digging into his skin.

"I haven't left the mansion in two years!" You cry, blinking back tears "I feel like some prize you've won and caged up! You don't even let me attend galas anymore."

"You hated those galas. All the nosey reporters and their questions were something you hated. Do you want me to apologize for doing you a favor? I won't. I've done nothing but make your life easier." Coriolanus says

"Yes, you have made my life easier, you've eliminated all challenges I might come across by keeping me here, like a doll." You agree, tone dripping with sarcasm

"Look, if you want you can go to the next gala with me. It's in a week I'll get a designer here tomorrow morning to make you a nice dress." Coriolanus sighed, clearly tired "I don't want to argue with you about petty things"

"Good, then we can argue about these photos." You say, ready to finally hear what he had to say.

"I don't love her. Maybe I did at some point but none of that matters now, I came back to you didn't I?"

Maybe I did at some point.

Hot tears fell from your eyes as you looked down at your feet. How could you be so stupid? Why didn't you see it sooner?

The sound of Coriolanus getting up and walking towards you had you wiping at your face and unattractively sniffing as you tried to fix your runny nose. You didn't want him taking your tears as a sign of weakness. He couched down beside you and pulled your chair out so you were facing him.

"Stop crying." He commands placing his hands on your thighs.

Another fresh set of tears falls from your eyes and Coriolanus brushes them away.

"You're a liar." You say, your voice barely a whisper

"I'm not...I want to be here, with you. I'll let you go back out on your little shopping trips and attend galas, shitty reporters and all."

It's tempting, to agree and let everything perfectly mend itself. But as you glance at the pictures that fell off the table and Lucy Gray's face stares back at you, you feel your heart sink to your feet again.

"You're a liar." You say, this time your voice comes out strong as you push his warm hands from your face

Coriolanus gives you a hard stare but lets you pull away from him.

"You can't even apologize for seeing her." You point out

Coriolanus looks guilty as he disgests your words.

"What happened between the two of you?" You asked

"She ran off, I think. I also had some personal issues after Sejanus was killed. She offered for me to go with her, I almost did." He says

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment as Coriolanus remains in front of you, on his knees, fiddling with the end of your skirt.

"I don't think I ever really loved her. I think it might've just been the idea of possessing her that I liked." He admits, eyes on the floor

"And how is that different than us now?" You ask

Coriolanus' eyes snap up to yours when the question leaves your lips.

"It's different because...we're us...We grew up together, darling. You ate Tigris' cabbage soup and gave me lunch when I didn't have money for my own."

You swallow the lump in your throat and stand up. Coriolanus immediately rises, not interested in being so much shorter than you. You know what has to come next but you're not sure if you're strong enough to do it. Your actions will close the chapter of a book 15 years in the making.

"Coryo...I think I want to go home." You say looking up at him, fresh tears pool in your eyes.

"You are home. You're with me." He says reaching out and taking your hand in his

"No, I mean...to my family's home. I want my mom, I miss her." You admit, pulling your hand out of his.

Coriolanus' face is confused as you look down at the gorgeous ring he gave you at his proposal. It looked so perfect on your hand when you woke up just this morning but now it felt like a death sentence as you sighed.

"I think you should have this back too..." You say as you slip it off and hold it out to him, "I'm sorry about things ending like this, but if you can't even apologize, I don't think I can stay."

Coriolanus' confusion quickly morphs into anger as he looks at the ring in your hand.

"Put it back on. I'm not letting you walk away." He says, upset

"Coryo, don't make this difficult." You say taking the ring and placing it into the pocket that sits just above his heart in his button-up shirt.

You begin to walk towards the looming archway that marks the entrance to the dining room but you're blocked by an angry Coriolanus Snow, tears in his eyes, fists clenched, and his mouth set in a cold line.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Part Four

Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@10ava01

@i-dont-know-make-it-cool @bxtchopolis @anneliese500 @kitscutie @kiselasmetana @wpdarlingpan @miglielia @anneliese500

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese

@ajs-222

@ayyyeeeeidk

@noisymoisu @clintsupremacy @impeterporker @bl0ndelilac @threeinchminimum @starjane312 @ladyslytherin7 @inmyownlittlechair @eclipixels

@ffioncandy @marihoneywk @earth-to-lottie @julesandro @arzua10 @wotcherpeak

@imaybewrongbutidoubtit @luxebeautystyle @v1ennie @shev3nom @poemfreak306 @slyhersophia @xreaderbooksreads @popcornpoppin @peach97 @louweasleymalfoy @lizziebitch33

@hjgdhghoe @death934 @whore-for-pennywise @poppyflower-22 @callsignwidow @hey101010 @winuvs @iliveonteaandbooks

@powernutterbar @supersmexyandhot @dahlias-and-marigolds @literatureluster @spidermoony @lorarri @dilucpegg3r @forevermoremagcon @sarahskywalker-amidala @ms-longbeach@fictionalwhore123 @snowsgames

[whorefordean]

Can you write some Dean Winchester head canons, preferably smutty ones if you’re up to it ☺️

for how often i think about being absolutely annihilated by this man, this took entirely too long to write. my apologies.

anywho... these are all actually factual because i say so!

p.s i apologize for this being so short :/

18+ mdni below the cut

- i stand by the fact that if you don't go on a hunt with dean, this man is sending dick pics or constantly asking you for nudes. usually, you send them just because it's fun, but sometimes you like to tease dean about it.

"but sweetheart, there's no telling how long this case is gonna take," he'll whine over the phone when sam leaves the room for a few hours to go interview a witness or something.

"dean, it's been less than twenty-four hours. i think you'll survive."

"what if i die from blue balls?"

"goodbye, dean."

"wait-" click. dean pouts when you end the call. it doesn't last long though because his phone chimes a few minutes later with a photo from you, followed by a text. "don't die on me."

he one thousand percent sends you a picture a few minutes later of his cum covered hand and cock.

————

-maybe i'm projecting but i think dean gets into the habit of waking you up in the middle of the night because he wakes up horny, like he has a wet dream about you, and bless his heart, he tries so hard to not wake you up. so he starts listing monsters in his head, and analyzes the lyrics to his favorite song. man even tries counting sheep just to distract himself.

but it's no use. so instead, dean starts rubbing your arm softly, cooing your name in an effort to wake you up. you might stir a little, just to get closer to him, but dean hisses when you toss your leg over his waist, brushing against his dick.

he's gripping your thigh tight and then he's biting down lightly on your shoulder, pulling you from your sleep. he almost feels bad for waking you up when you pout at him, but you shift against his cock again, making him groan as all his empathy is flying out the window.

"what's wrong, dean?" you're asking innocently while sitting up, still not having noticed his situation.

"fuck, sweetheart," he grunts in your ear. you look so confused but so pretty as dean stares up at you. before you can breathe he's shoving his lips onto yours and pulling you to sit on his lap. you moan when you feel his cock rubbing against your clothed pussy.

"fuck, dean, again?" you question, choking on a moan. it's the third time this week that he's woken you up like this.

"it's a wasted dream if it's not about me being buried deep inside you," he smirks proudly.

————

- dean finds out that you like listening to audio porn (in badjhur we trust) so he records some for you. finds out what your favorite tags are somehow and incorporates those into it. (the tongue clicks 🫣)

- dean is so used to slapping your ass at home that he will do it constantly in public. he doesn’t even smirk about it like he does at home. just stares at you with wide im sorry eyes while you glare at him with that so help me god look.

- dean is a munch. will spend all day buried between your thighs just because he can. you’re begging him to stop. whining bc it’s too much and he’s just all heavy breathing as he stares up at you. sweetheart please, i missed you. he’ll give the same excuse every time, even though he’s only been gone for maybe an hour to do a beer run.

- dean is soooo into face sitting. he’s definitely the type that will force you to actually sit because he does take personal offense if you hover.

- he's so into free use. you can't tell me different. getting to use and play with his sweetheart whenever he wants? say less.

- also he loves to cum inside you and make you cockwarm him after so none of it leaks out

-oh my god. he burns you a cd called "sexy time with my sweetheart." and now he refuses to listen to any of the songs on it outside of the bedroom because he's conditioned to get hard when he hears them.

[latenightdaydreams]

Cowboy!König x Farmer (fem pov)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, mention of death (widow), p in v, spanking, oral

2.3k word count

Set in 1890's America

🤠

.

.

It has been exactly four months and seventeen days since your husband, Henry, passed away. The two of you decided to leave your dull city life for the excitement of the untouched wilderness. Everything had been going perfectly. In only five years the both of you were able to build a beautiful home, a big barn with animals to fill it, and enough crops to feed yourselves and sell. Success to the point of needing to hire extra hands. It was the American dream.

It’s just you and a failing farm. The work just continues to pile up and you never seem to be able to catch a break. With no other options, you set off into town looking for help. You hang fliers in the local stores and on street posts, hoping someone reliable will respond. All you can do is wait.

Only just two days later while you’re outside feeding your chickens, you see a black draft horse approaching. You place the bucket of feed on the floor, wipe your hands off on your blue jeans, and adjust your cream-colored button-down shirt before walking towards him. As you approach you notice that underneath the cowboy hat is an odd t-shirt like mask covering his face.

“I hope you’re not here to cause trouble.” You rest your hand on the pistol resting on your hip as you continue to approach him.

“Nein, no trouble, Fräulein."

His thick Austrian accent takes you by surprise. Your eyes look over his body as he gets off of his horse, taking note of how massive this man is. He looks down at you with his pale blue eyes squinting from a smile.

“I’m König,” he holds his hand out to you, “I saw your fliers in town.”

“I’m, y/n. Have you worked on a farm before?” You weakly shake his hand, your body so exhausted from hours of work and no rest.

“I grew up on one in Austria.”

You cross your arms keeping your defenses up as you two speak. There are so many questions running through your mind about his mask, but you decide to not ask. Never in your life did you think a 6’10 giant would be the one to show up.

“Well, as the post states; I can’t pay much but I can offer food and a room to compensate.”

The fact that you can’t afford to pay the standard rate to a farm hand makes you feel ashamed. There used to be three workers and now it’s only you. You can feel the heat in your face begin to build as you wait for him to reject your offer. Without him, you might not be able to keep the farm past this coming harvesting season.

“That sounds like a good deal to me, Fräulein.”

A small smile cracks at the corner of your lips as he agrees. There is a wave of relief that washes over your body. The possibility of getting the farm back to its glory days lingers in the back of your mind.

“Come with me, I’ll give you a tour.”

You turn and start with showing him the farm land before walking inside the home. It’s a two-story farmhouse, well taken care of by your husband. On the walls there are two photos; one of you and your late husband and the other of your parents. You notice König eyeing them, but he doesn’t ask about it.

Up the stairs and around to the left is the spare room. It was supposed to be a nursery, but those hopes of a family died with your husband. In the corner is a single bed and a wardrobe on the wall. It’s not a must, but it’s all you could afford.

“Here is where you’ll be sleeping.” Your eyes follow König as he walks past. His muscles are so big the ripple though the tight blue shirt he’s wearing. His thighs would be so nice to sit on. Henry was a skinny little man. You didn’t know men could be this big. “There are some house rules. No parties, no drinking yourself dumb, and please clean up after yourself.”

König places his small bag on the bed; clearly, he travels light. He nods as he looks around and then his eyes land back on you. The beautiful shade of light blue is only accentuated by the black mask covering his face.

“Ja, I promise to follow the rules. When do I start?”

“You can help me now. All of the animals are fed, but the stalls need to be cleaned out.”

“I’m on it.” König says as he walks past you. You get a whiff of his musky smell from his travels. Deep inside you feel wrong but, on the surface, you can’t help but to be aroused by the man.

You wait a moment before going outside to tend to the crops. Right now, you just need to remain focused on the farm and Henry’s vision. There is no time for men in this life.

You march down the stairs and head to the barn to grab your tools. Once you enter the door you see König with the pitchfork shoveling the animal manure, just as you asked of him. Except his shirt is now off and resting over one of the hooks on the wall. His body is glistening with sweat as his muscles flex with each movement. Trying to not get caught staring, you turn and grab what you need quickly and leave. The sound of your heart beat echoes in your ears, what is wrong with you?

The day passes until the sun begins to set. You’ve noticed that König took the liberty to go around the barn and fix things that have been broken for a while. His work ethic only makes you feel even worse for not being able to pay him more.

A few days pass, the both of you have slowly begun to build a routine. It has been nice to have him around the house, the chores no longer seem unmanageable. There hasn’t been much conversation, but you steal glances of his body everyday when he’s outside.

Today as you’re bent over planting seeds, you feel a warm hand rest on your lower back. You can feel a tingle crash over your body as you stand and turn to him. Your bodies are so close that you can feel the heat radiating from him. All you want to do is rub your hand down his chest and feel his sweat on your body.

“I can finish up; you should go inside and rest.” His eyes flicker back and forth between yours causing your heart to flutter.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Bitte meine Liebe, let me finish.”

You nod slowly. His hand drifts from your back to the curve of your rear before dropping off. The look he gives you melts you completely. Thanking him once more, you walk forward and towards the house. You turn back to look at König and see his eyes following your hips before he continues working.

As you turn the corner, you realize that you forgot your jacket in the barn. You walk back and see it lying next to König’s shirt. With your jacket in hand, you look around before grabbing his shirt. Bringing it up to your face, you take a deep breath in, savoring his scent.

“Liebling, I thought I told you to get some rest.”

König’s voice causes you to jump, accidently dropping his shirt on the ground before turning around to face him. You can’t seem to find the right words to attempt to talk yourself out of this situation; it’s embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry, I know this must look—”

“Like you were smelling my shirt.” König says with a certain cheerful tone in his voice.

All you can do is nod, you’ve been caught; the thought of him quitting makes your heart drop. Words escape you; how does one apologize for this? You pick his shirt back up and hand it to him.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat in a meek tone.

König looks at you for a while before slowly approaching you. His massive hand ups the side of your face and tilts your head back for you to look directly into his eyes. A chill travels over your body.

“That’s…very naughty of you.” His voice is almost a whisper as his other arm wraps around the side of you, pressing you against his chest.

You look up with wide eyes at his response; it isn’t what you were expecting at all. Before you can say anything, his hand squeezes your soft plump ass through your jeans. He gently grinds his hips up against you, making sure you feel how aroused you make him.

“You are simply stunning, Liebling.” König growls in your ear, goosebumps travel all over.

Both of his hands move down to unbutton your shirt, every button felt like it was taking an eternity to undo. The way he looks at your bare breasts like a hungry beast causes your pussy to tingle, a rush of desire pulsing throughout your body. He gently pulls his cowboy hat off and places it on the wooden stable behind you, pulling off his mask as well.

You see a long and deep scar that travels down the right side of his face. It isn’t a turn off for you, he’s still a handsome man. With one hand you reach up and caress the right side of his face gently, König presses his face into your hand as he relishes your touch.

He leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples while he unbuttons your jeans. The feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple causes you to let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb back his messy blonde hair as you watch him with closed eyes enjoy your body.

The fabric of your jeans brush along your legs as he pulls them down off of your body along with your underwear. His large hands caress your legs from your calves up to your thighs. He pulls away to look at your full body; your eyes drop to his hands to see his erection straining against his jeans. Your eyes follow as he stands up, towering over your much smaller frame as his hands undo his pants. In this moment you didn’t feel like a widower or even the stress of the farm. It’s just you and König.

A tiny yelp leaves you as he lifts you up and holds you in his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist while he walks with you to the barn wall. His lips crash into yours in a passionate kiss. You pull him to you, deepening the kiss. He tastes strongly of tobacco and smells like sweat from working in the hot sun all day.

König pulls away from the kiss, leaving your lips wet and craving more of him. His eyes look hazy, drunk at this moment. Then you see the head of his cock press against your sopping wet pussy. His once pale blue eyes are now blackened by his pupils.

With one harsh thrust, König shoves himself inside of you. A loud moan leaves your lips as your face scrunches with pleasure. König is such a strong man that he so effortlessly holds you and moves you down on to his cock to meet his thrust.

“Y/n.” He huffs your name.

No words can even be formed as your body experiences new heights of pleasure you’ve never felt before. His cock is monstrous, bullying itself inside of you. Your short finger nails dig into and drag across his pale skin, reddened from the blistering August sun.

Animalistic groans leave König as the most pathetic mewls leave yours. His body leans against yours as he presses you harder against the barn wall, his hips bucking up rapidly like a man in heat. You feel a way of electricity as his tongue licks across the side of your neck. He covers your pulse point with his lips and begins to lightly suck.

Beads of sweat begin to drip on your body, both of you growing increasingly slippery. He gently puts you down, but quickly grabs you by the back of your neck and walks you over to a stack of hay. Not being too rough, he bends you over the stack and presses your face into the hay.

You form goosebumps across your body as he gently caresses down to your hips, grasping them firmly. His pace continues, but you feel his heavy balls slapping against your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter back as one hand reaches behind you to push his chest.

“Too much.” You whimper.

König doesn’t listen, grabbing your arms and folding it behind your back instead. He reaches for your other arm to also hold it that way, one of his hands wrapping around both of your wrist to keep them together. Your ass ripples with every merciless thrust only bringing you closer to orgasm.

You can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, a low moan leaving him in response. This is just too much. The strong build up of ecstasy radiates from deep inside of your core throughout your whole body. In response to this sensation you tremble, König’s name being the only thing you can say as you cry for him over and over again.

“Can I—” König begins to ask, but before he finishes his sentence you can feel his cock begin to pulse deep inside. His heavy body leans forward and rest on you, pressing you more into the hay. He gives your marked neck soft kisses as your body takes every single drop of his cum.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Breaking Dean Out of Jail

Pairing: Dean x reader

_____________

Thankfully Dean was a pretty good actor when he needed to be. It was part of his natural charm, talking to anyone and everyone, playing whatever part he needed to survive. Or to get some. But today all he had to do was shut up and looked pissed.

It wasn’t all that hard since you were certain he was mad with you. Dean had gotten caught on a B&E, was in custody and currently in lockup at the local station.

Great thing you had a fake FBI badge and a knack for creating fake documents.

“He’s wanted for a whole slew of offenses, murder at the top of the list,” you said, Dean scowling as he sat on the bench in his cell, hands cuffed behind his back. The chief had already asked if you could handle him by yourself to which you gave him a look that said you were more dangerous than you seemed.

Once you were out and Dean was being led down the hall, he did his part of struggling a little, bumping his shoulder into you so you hit the wall. 

“Do you want assaulting an officer on your record too?” you asked, shoving him back in place. Sam texted you as you popped Dean in your backseat.

Demon taken care of. Got D? -S

Yeah. He’d rather it be you risking your neck to show your face in here though. -Y/N

Me too. But you always were the best fake cop of all of us. -S

“Let us know if you change your mind about the backup,” said the officer as you climbed in the front seat. You thanked him and drove off, in a stolen car no less, Dean staying quiet until you were on the main road.

“Sam should have-”

“Behave or I won’t give you the key to those cuffs,” you said. Seconds later you heard Dean laughing as he asked you to pull over. You did as asked and soon he was in the passenger seat, hands free. “How did you...all your lock picks and stuff are in that baggie.”

“Someone might have had a bobby pin in their hair that I stole when I bumped into her,” said Dean. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“Only my ego,” you said, reaching your head up to the back of your head to find the pin missing. You started driving again and you felt Dean’s hands in your hair put it back in place.

“So officer, what should I do to make it up to you for busting me out?” he asked, your lips curling up in a smile. “I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

“Oh, really?” you asked. “I’m sure you do.”

“It might take me a while to show my gratitude, all night in fact,” said Dean, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Next time it’s Sam though.”

“You’re going to show Sam gratitude all night long?” you teased, Dean holding up the handcuffs.

“Behave,” he said, a dark smile on his face.

“Make me,” you said, listening to Dean play with the metal, snapping it back and forth.

“Oh, I most certainly will. Count on it.”

___________

[ambrosiagourmet]

Rin Masterpost

Rin! Rinsha Fana! Beloved side character I think about far too much (or maybe not enough?)

I decided that it might be nice to put together an informational post about Rin, since she has some of my favorite background details of any character in Dungeon Meshi. This is partly as reference for myself, and partly for anyone else who might be interested in her but not know where to chase down the tidbits we we get of her, both in canon & extra materials. There’s also a little bit of theorizing and analysis sprinkled in for fun.

If anyone spots something I missed, please let me know and I will add it in!

Alright. Time for ultimate #rinposting

History and Timeline:

We don't have an official timeline for Rin (even in the expanded Adventurer's Bible, sadly), but we can put a lot of pieces together based on Kabru's timeline & their respective ages.

Rin is 2 years older than Kabru, and they met when he was 9. Assuming that he met her soon after she was taken to the elven capital, that means that the elves took her when she was 11.

Before that, she lived on the Northern Continent. Interestingly, when Mickbell asks about Shuro, Rin says she was born "here."

Since "here" doesn't mean the actual Island itself, it must mean simply "not the east." She is described in the Adventurer's Bible as having "no real knowledge of or attachment to the East," so maybe that's why she draws a "there" verses "here" line.

I'd also like to add a note here that the elves don't seem uh... they don't seem great about respecting the value of other cultures, especially those of short-life species. Milsiril seems to have discouraged Kabru from eating or remembering food from his hometown, at least, and that's even as an adoptive parent who cares (at least in some way) for her child. As I will touch on later, the "care" that Rin was under probably had even less respect for her history or ties to either Eastern or Northern culture.

That is all to say, considering that Rin spent many years with the elves, I'd take her having "[no] attachment to the East" as more of a comment on how she feels now, and less as a definite choice she made. She may genuinely have chosen that approach and opinion for herself, she may have been pushed towards it by the elves, and she may have had little choice at all in the matter - all are valid interpretations, though I personally lean towards the thought that it's unlikely the elves didn't have at least some hand in it.

Anyway, Rin does seem to know at least a bit about her heritage - she can presumably name and identify the specific island her parents are from, and she recognizes that "Shuro" isn't a name used there. She also knows that different places from the Eastern archipelago speak different languages, so she knows at least a little about the other islands as well.

Some additional extrapolations I'll make based on these facts: she never mentions, and probably isn't in contact with, any family from her island. This may be because her extended family died, because her parents didn't (or weren't able to) maintain contact, or because she lost contact when she was taken by the elves. Somewhat relatedly, she also prooobably doesn't speak the language, at least not fluently, though her being able to comment on the state of language in the archipelago makes me think that she at least learned a little as a kid.

Anyway, Rin's parents were refugees from the archipelago, though we don't know what specifically caused them to leave. There is this little tidbit of info we get (from the cover of chapter 48, of all places), though:

So yeah, that seems like it would be the backdrop of Rin's parents fleeing. As I said earlier, it's unclear if Rin might have any living family left back on her island. The listing she has for “family” in the Adventurer's Bible is just a dash, but so is Izutsumi's, for instance, and we know that she was taken from her family with no knowledge of who might still be out there. It's possible everyone else was killed, it's possible they were separated... it's possible that Rin's parents didn't even know.

As an additional note, and this is speculation on my part, but I think there is an argument to be made, with this tidbit from the cover as well as the Nakamoto clan's specialty in espionage and use of ninjas, that the politics of the archipelago are partially based on Sengoku era Japan. Not necessarily super relevant here, but I think it's interesting context for all... of the archipelago characters, honestly.

(Especially considering it seems like the Nakamoto clan is in a relatively comfortable position, and yet clearly are involved, or at least prepared to be involved in larger conflict. How stable is their position, really? How is Shuro's father viewed by the wider region and archipelago as a whole? What about his lord? NOT THE POINT THIS IS A POST ABOUT RIN. BUT IT'S VERY INTERESTING TO THINK ABOUT.)

Okay, back to Rin's parents.

Whatever caused them to leave, they made their way to the north, where they made their living with their magic for a time. There are no specifics about what kind of magic they used, but we know at least some examples of jobs that magic can get you, based on the flashback to Laios and Falin's childhood in chapter 26. Laios proposes that Fain could use her magic to be a priest, gravekeeper, or wandering exorcist. Though these are specific to Falin's affinity with spirits, they give some idea of the shape of the work that might be available. It's important, but it is also on the outskirts of society - not necessarily admired or appreciated by the average person.

And Rin’s parents were killed by vigilantes for that magic. It's not entirely news that superstitious villages in the area would sometimes kill magic users - we see a small drawing of people being burned at the stake in a panel towards the end of the manga:

Nonetheless, Rin is the only person in the main cast who has experienced this brutality firsthand. And she did experience it firsthand, having been found by the elves as the sole survivor within the burnt ruins of her home.

It is unknown exactly how she survived, or what happened to her parents before and during the fire. Rin lived, and they did not.

The elves came some time after the fire, intending to investigate reports of ancient magic. They (and we) don't know if Rin's parents actually did use ancient magic, or if the reports and murders were simply spurred by general fear and superstition. Rin was the only piece of "evidence" that remained, and so she was taken back to the west with the elves when they left.

We don't know much about her time on the Northern Central Continent (where the elves/Canaries are based), but it doesn't seem like she was adopted or taken in by anyone the way that Kabru was. According to the Adventurer's Bible, after being taken into custody, "under their care she was treated as a captive animal would be." I would guess that means very basic food and shelter, little to no education. Probably the most social contact she got was from Kabru, as well as maybe, occasionally, from elves treating her as a curiosity, such as in this bit in the Adventurer’s Bible:

Assuming she left with Kabru (which seems like it is the case, there's no info about them having separated during that time), she spent 9 years with the elves, and has been with Kabru on the Island in the 4 years since then.

She also stays in the Golden Country after the end of the story, apparently working as an apothecary.

Additional Details (& Speculation):

What does she remember of her family and home?

I'd like to take a moment here to explore a little of what Rin might remember of her parents and home.

For reference, we can look at Kabru. The canaries came to Utaya when Kabru was 6, and he arrived in the capital when he was 7. He remembers the events of the tragedy in his home, and has some memories of his mother and life in Utaya, including memories of local dishes.

Rin lost her parents and home at 11, so she presumably has much clearer memories of the events that lead to her being taken by the elves... or she might, assuming that they haven't been completely blocked by her trauma from the event.

Yeah, I am fairly damn sure that she's got some memory issues from trauma and PTSD. For one, this is the state she was found in:

As already mentioned, she was also treated like something of an animal by the elves. She probably didn't have a lot of contact with other people, which would further perpetuate that sense of isolation and dehumanization. What I'm getting at here is that Rin probably didn't have much to help pull her out of this place, or heal these wounds. She had Kabru, who was also a kid and even younger than her, and she had herself.

Obviously trauma leaves different scars on everyone, and everyone responds and copes in different ways. But I do think it is interesting that we never hear anything about Rin's parents or life before the elves, and there are no real details about it given in the Adventurer's Bible the way we have for Kabru. What's presented is more surface level facts: they were refugees, they made a living with magic, they were killed.

I'm inclined to believe that things are laid out this way because that's how Rin holds on to these things. She knows things about them, but possibly remembers them more as things she was told/knows to be true, rather than actual memories she can picture herself experiencing.

Rin's Magic

In an interesting counterpoint to her potentially spotty memory, I do actually think Rin may have learned magic from her parents (or started learning, and was self-taught from there). She never attended a magic academy, and actually has a bit of grudge against people who did - owing to the social protection afforded to "upper-class mages," which her parents did not have. She also almost certainly wouldn't have been taught by the elves, who not only treated her as an animal but also knew her parents may have been involved with ancient magic.

Falin began to show signs of magical talent at 8, and was sent to the Magic Academy at 10, and that was as someone who had absolutely no guidance about or exposure to magic in her home town. Raised by two mage parents, I think Rin absolutely could have been learning some things by the time she was 11.

In terms of continued learning, I'll add that Rin is able to identify Marcille's magic as being A) from an Academy student, and B) cast by an elf:

This makes me think that she continued to study magic on her own while held by the elves, and probably even more so after leaving with Kabru. They didn't form the party until two years after they left the elves, which would give Rin plenty of time to try and learn from other adventurers on the Island, or to study up on her own. She'd probably be able to pick up some dungeon-crawling basics (like the water walk spell), as well as become familiar with the skill level and expression of skill common in different people with different backgrounds (hence why she is able to comment on the "textbook" academy wards).

Much like Marcille, Rin also seems to rely on a 'one size fits all' Big Boom method of dealing with monsters: lightning. We see the best example of its power in the fight with Chimera Falin:

But we also see her cast it pretty recklessly in a few other places, including the end credits of the new anime ED, which I think provides a good example of the downsides to such an approach...

Yeah, it is very much a 'get out of the way or get zapped' spell.

Especially since Marcille's offensive magic is self-taught and works very similarly, this definitely reinforces the idea that Rin figured most of this stuff out herself.

Outfit and Character Design

Dear sweet Rin of the Red And Black... how I love her design.

First of all, her clothes are damaged. Despite the fact that Rin looks relatively well put together overall, her outfit is worn out. I have some theories on why this is that I'll get to in a bit, but for now I'll just touch on what this design communicates in general about it.

I think, just like with Kabru's horribly messy room, it creates a sense that there is something more complicated underneath the surface. Something that isn't being addressed or seen to, just as the dress hasn't been mended or replaced.

It also reflects her not caring a ton about her appearance. She's neat, but she's not concerned about being pretty, so she doesn't bother with fixing up her outfit after her dungeon crawls. This also fits with her perpetual scowl (which I will talk more about in a bit), and slightly disheveled hair.

Next: the gloves. At first I thought they might be a sort of uncomfortable-with-touch thing, but after skimming through the manga and some bonus content, I have another theory. Rin takes the gloves off to eat, as well as a few other instances, such as when working on a spell with Holm and Marcille in chapter 36

This one is especially interesting because she has them on in the next chapter, during the fight with Falin. Since she also isn't wearing gloves during some of the Daydream Hour art of her outside of the dungeon, that leads me to believe that they are specifically for combat.

What does she need them for, though? Most other casters we see don't wear gloves. Well... just look at the other half of the page where she attacks Falin with lightning:

She is enveloped by this spell. I said it before was pretty reckless magic, but maybe its not just a problem for her teammates, but for her as well.

So here's my theory: maybe the gloves are rubber, or some other electricity-resistant material? They might help protect her from her own magic. I don't know why a caster would need gloves for combat otherwise.

I also think this might be why her dress is tattered at the bottom, by the way. Especially since the Daydream Hour genderswap design doesn't have a similar problem with his outfit, since the tunic isn't as long.

I will admit this is a bit of stretch/guess, but I think it's a fun one, and I wanted to share. I do think I'm right about the gloves being for dungeons/fighting specifically, at least. That seems pretty consistent throughout all of her appearances.

I also mentioned her scowl, so I'll touch on that briefly as well. The (fairly confirmed) explanation for Rin's expression is that she intentionally wears a frown to prevent her other expressions from showing through. I think it's important to emphasize that it's not just smiling that she is trying to suppress here - it's any strong emotion:

Anyway, because I can, here is the art of Rin smiling.

Rin and Kabru

I have talked a bit about Rin and Kabru's history, but I think it deserves its own section.

I think it's very interesting that Rin is pretty much the ONLY character in all of Dungeon Meshi that has explicit canonical romantic interesting in someone. It's literally part of the main summary sentence in her character profile.

This could be sort of reductive as a way to describe a female character (and in some ways it still is), but I think in part the simplicity and directness of it actually is part of what makes it so interesting. Especially when on the very next page we see the comic about her backstory. "This mage is in love with Kabru" -> one page of a horribly traumatic event and a child frozen in shock with no one to comfort her. What does that do?

Well, in my opinion, it shows how much Rin focuses on Kabru as something to keep her in the present. In contrast with the immense loss she has experienced, her love for Kabru is current and alive. He has presumably been her anchor for years, and I think that her love is part of that anchor.

Adding to this, in contrast with how explicit her feelings are, she never seems to actively pursue Kabru. She complains about his potential interest in other women, but she doesn't really flirt. She doesn't let herself smile around him any more than anyone else, and she doesn't hide her bitterness or anger from him to present a more appealing persona.

As much as she craves Kabru's attention, and has stayed by his side for years, I don't know that she really wants to possess him. He seems to know about her feelings, more or less, and she seems to know that he knows. Maybe she believes he doesn't reciprocate and is respecting that, maybe she's afraid of what she could lose if she tried to change things, or maybe the change itself frightens her. In any case, though she's not exactly happy with the way things are between them, she doesn't seem to be trying to change that status quo.

A specific thing I'd also like to talk about with their relationship, beyond Rin's love for him, is her fear for him. As the Adventurer's Bible puts it, "she worries that his knack for dealing with whatever life throws at him might lead him to get too full of himself and end up in serious trouble."

Rin is an interesting mix of restrained and explosive, herself. Her magic is destructive, her temper seems to run hot (she gets annoyed easily, at least), and her feelings for Kabru are apparent. At the same time, she doesn't let her emotions show on her face, she is the one who bluntly states that the group has hit the limit of their abilities, and she doesn't act on those obvious feelings for Kabru. It's interesting, then, that what she fears for Kabru is that he won't restrain himself.

And a small personal idea about that as well: I wonder if she somewhat blames her parents for getting killed. Again, this is very speculative, but I think it's interesting that her fear for Kabru is that he will get too full of himself. Take up too much space. It's never really stated what Rin thinks of her parents, but it can be easy in grief to search for control, and control often means blame. If they hadn't been so confident, so flashy, would they still be alive...?

I don't know if she's ever thought like that, and it could well be that her fears for Kabru come from a totally different place. But it's an interesting connective thread between her past and present - the idea of "getting in trouble" for taking up too much space and being too confident in one's own abilities.

Miscellaneous Tidbits:

On that note, I'd like to wrap up the main part of this post, and move on to a few extra things that I couldn't find another place for.

Rin plays with her hair when she's stressed

Using stressed as a pretty big umbrella here, because I think it's hard to perfectly pin down all the emotions at play, but it is a habit of hers. Best displayed in chapter 32, but it shows up in other places, too.

Her design contrasts with Marcille

This is a small thing, but I just love how much they are visual opposites.

Rin wears red and black and has dark hair, Marcille wears blue and white and has light hair. Marcille cares a great deal for her hair and puts it up in elaborate hairstyles, and Rin's is mostly loose and a bit messy. Marcille was even educated at the Magic Academy, which Rin dislikes. They both have little capelets. Also they both look very cute in each other's clothes.

Rin knows Flamela (and they meet again in canon)

Nothing much is done with this in canon, but I think it’s super interesting that Flamela's squad are the ones that find Rin as a child and take her away to the west, and then they end up stuck in the dungeon together for a bit.

Two days??? I'm so very curious what things were like between these three.

Aaaand I think that's all I have to say about Rin! For the time being at least. There's a lot more analysis that could be done about her and Kabru especially, but for this post I wanted to keep things at least somewhat anchored to canon facts, with only a layer or two of speculation on top.

If it isn't already obvious, I think Rin is a super interesting character with a ton of potential depth to explore. She mostly interacts with Kabru in canon, but has ties to a bunch of other characters: she and Marcille fill similar roles in their parties but have differing personalities and histories, she and Falin (and Laios) have been tremendously shaped by xenophobia and fear of magic common in the Northern Continent, her parents fled from conflict in the same region Shuro and his retainers are from, and she has history with Flamela and some of the second canary squad.

Her temper, her fear, her love... her repression and passion - they all inform her character, even in small ways, even with as little time as she spends on the page.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Innocent Possession

—

Time Written - 11:52 p.m.

Arkham Knight/fem!reader smut

Tags: Smut, possessive, breeding/innocence kink. Jason might be a meanie. (Not Proofread. Have to work on a Saturday AND I BROKE MY NAIL 🫠)

This man is such a slut it’s not even funny anymore. LOOK AT THAT.👇 THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THAT 👆

—

His lush, heavy breathing fans along your exposed, maroon muddled neck. Sharp teeth dimpling your skin in harsh punctures, not enough to draw blood quite yet.

Hands that once cradled your neck like porcelain art in the distance of the past, now grasped your throat like a damn vice, pairing with his grip on your shoulder to force you back against him with each deep, aching thrust.

One of the major accomplishments of his new identity, his new life, was to find the innocence of his past. The highlight of his life for many years was brought to him, bound and gagged as Gotham was in the midst of evacuation. Your clothes were torn and rustled from aggressive attempts to subdue you, enough to leave bruises along your supple, upper arms as you thrashed and screamed.

Now those bastards of men lay dead outside the hall. Scattered corpses slumped along the floors, dreadfully bland decor that meant nothing to the Knight that holstered his gun after his short pursuit.

Your first greeting from the armored man was terrifyingly quiet, towering over you like a beast after approaching where you cowered.

His hands grasp hold of his helmet before you could beg for your life, only trying to make it towards the Evac buses before you were hauled off by those bastards. All words died on your tongue when steel cut blue eyes meet yours, brows faintly furrowed, his jaw taunt with incredibly strong tension.

You’re his ex, but not by choice. None of this was by choice. He vanished for a year, only to be presumed dead the next.

You never hated him enough to put that label on him. Any attempt to begin your list of a million questions abruptly halts before it even began, as his lips instantly assault yours.

“That’s a good girl. My fucked out little whore.” He grunts, squeezing your hips closer to his pelvis, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight walls.

The ropes that kept you bound now uselessly dangled from your wrists like cheap bracelets, the skin of your knuckles lightening as you helplessly plant them along the wall. Skin grew sticky with milky cum in between both your bodies, loud and wet, seeping down in between your bare thighs.

Watching and feeling your juices dampen the front of his red tactical pants was a punishment in itself, one he was feeling kind enough to save for later.

Maybe fucking your mouth would make for good punishment, listening to you choke as he grinds against your face, a pool of your combined mess seeping along your dirty knees on the ground.

“You better hope I never learn if any other guy fucked what’s mine, Princess,” He huffs against your kiss bruised lips, barely taking breaks to let you breathe. “Woulda’ rather had you cryin’ on fuckin’ toys than another man.”

Your whimper sounded like a cry, making Jason believe he could do so here right now, in this dingy room, underneath a dusty headlight. He hovers more over your back, tilting your head just enough to crash his lips against yours.

Feverishly responding to such a heavy, messy kiss, you moan fully against his rough, scar lined lips, amplifying when his tongue promptly invades. He licks with feverish hunger as a hand slips under your waist, huffing at your jolt at the sudden, angry assault on your nub, forcing your walls to deliciously clench towards a third orgasm.

The sounds he could pull from his sweet girl never ceases to amaze him. Even before his death, you were nothing but kind, the epitome of polite and heartwarming sweetness. What the hell were you thinking, choosing to date a guy like him?

Doesn’t matter if he died. No man is ever gonna take what’s been his for a very, very long time.

You won’t have to tell him now, but he’ll know. He has the capability to learn all your deepest secrets, knowing he could drag them out of you so easily.

“You miss me, pretty girl?” His hot rasp rumbles richly along the shell of your ear, sparking an uproar of your over sensitive nerves.

“You miss cryin’ on my dick, Princess? Missed how good it made you feel, how perfect you’d behave just to get bred? Tell me,” he grunts after relinquishing from the kiss. “Tell me you did. Say it loud, tell me you missed me.”

“I did-“ You spew out from quivering lips, ripples of tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I did, Jay. M-Missed you so much—“

Your voice draws out an empty whine towards your last word, hearing the collision of hot skin get louder as he gets harsher, brutal, eagerly desperate to make up for all the time he’s lost.

His sweet, innocent girl resorted to a jittery, babbling fleshlight. You could say anything he wanted, his guarded ego crumbling from the truth laced in your words.

You missed him, grieved for him, loved him. Yet, all he saw you as right now is his babbling whore, his whining little baby who never got used to the size of him driving deep into your cunt.

Honestly, he hopes you never will.

Your front further gets pressed flat against the wall, hot skin shivering from the harshness of the cold surface. Thick, precisely detailed armor digs deep into your back when he leans over you, keeping his persistent grip along your jaw, keeping you suspended just enough to breathe when he fucks you.

“S’been hell without ya, sweetheart,” He lowers his tone, whispering with a kiss of taunt as he rocks himself against your plush ass, keeping you cock drunk per his amusement.

“My baby wanna prove how much she missed me?” He cooes along your ear, smirking sadistically to your complete unawareness. “My baby wanna have a baby? She wanna have her pussy filled to prove she always loved me?”

You whine out ‘yes’ over and over, your back arching heavily from his relentless pace. The more space you involuntarily create, the closer Jason leans into you, the harder the plating digs into your back. The harsher the head of his cock endlessly strikes your cervix, making you just about lose it.

A series of curses spewed from your lips, resulting in three thick fingers shoved into your mouth, tasting yourself prior when he assaulted your soaked core.

“Language, babygirl,” Jason sneers against your cheek, despising the foul words that left those pretty lips. “Don’t badmouth me like a cheap whore. You’re my good girl. Fucking act like it.”

His other hand promptly pressed against your abdomen, forcing your lower half closer towards his waist. With his overwhelming free reign on your body, Jason bullies your sore, abused pussy with a series of sharp slaps, your clit stinging from repeated impacts.

You jolt out, sobbing out a series of apologies laced in short begs in the midst of various squeals.

In another life, he was your gentle giant. Now, he was a monster lusting after much more than blood. Jason was a simple man; wanting nothing more than the death of his mentor, and his ex’s warm cunt until he’s fully satisfied.

You whine out something that sounded like a mix between a cry and a moan. He clicks his tongue, tilting your head back just a little more while halting his hand, catching sight of those teary, bubbly eyes and quivering lip.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You hiccup, your nails scraping along the wall from overstimulation.

“I’m sorry Ja-Jason, please—“

You stumble over words. A pure miracle over how flustered you were to say your desire after being his sex doll.

“Please what?” He demands, losing what patience he never had.

“A baby,” you whine out, purposely leaning into his palm, fluttering your teary lashes. “Give me your baby, Jason. I want it. Please.”

His brows raise in surprise, slowly rocking his hips whilst holding back a grunt. Yes, he said it, desiring it, but hearing you beg for this. To ruin your beautiful body with his tainted seed.

“M’Not gonna stop, y’know. Even when it takes.” His voice dribbled with lustful possession while his hips stutter back into an uproar, nibbling along your lobe with sharp teeth. “That what you want? You ready for that?”

You moan out an easy agreement with more eagerness than before, allowing your body to relax against his chest.

“Y’hear me, Princess?” Jason braced a hand along the wall, clutching hold of your hand in his grasp, keeping your fingers safe in his fist. “I’m gonna make you a mama by the end of tonight.”

The Bats can wait, for now. Once he’s dead, once he’s been dealt with, then he’ll have much more opportunity to celebrate.

[kidasthings]

Noa and Mae: A Taboo Affair?

Hi, there! Kida checking in again with yet another controversy - you've been warned.

I see a lot of people on Tumblr and Reddit pointing out that a Noa/Mae (#NoMae?) pairing would be at best controversial, at worst beastiality.

I mean, he IS a CGI ape, right?

Not so fast.

I'd like to break down a few points, if I Mae (pun intended!), and address this argument. I'll be using a few of the comments I've seen on the web already to do so, on the part of the dissenters to the pairing.

1st Argument: "Planet of the Apes wouldn't show a kiss between a human and an ape. Ew."

Reply: Oh, they already have, my friend. Not in the full-blown sense, but they definitely did film Zira and Taylor kissing lips to muzzle in 1968. You can view that lovely bit here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEp7yunwVF8

I apologize in advance for impinging on your delicate simian sensibilities. #sorrynotsorry

2nd Argument: "Why would they even depict a human/ape couple? Humans and apes can't even reproduce in the franchise."

Reply: They can't? News to me. There was a Hum-Ape written into the early scripts and screen tests for Beneath the Planet of the Apes in 1970. Seems the Planet of the Apes franchise truly thought it was worth exploring back then. You can read all about that little guy right here: https://planetoftheapes.fandom.com/wiki/Hum-Ape

Aww, just look at that adorable lack of face-fur!

3rd Argument: "The audience of today isn't ready for that kind of thing."

Reply: And the audience in the 1960's/early 1970's was? I didn't know we became even more conservative 50+ years later. I'll be sure to adjust my high neckline and clutch my pearls in absolute horror at the thought of all of those deviant libertines living before me. Excuse me, I must go confront my parents about this.

BUT, before I do, I do want to point out we seemed to accept an on-screen kiss between Goliath (a gargoyle) and Elisa (a human) during a certain Disney children's cartoon show in the 1990's - anyone remember that?

Disgusting. I bet his breath smelled like rancid pigeon.

Additionally, we have more recent films such as Avatar, The Shape of Water - which won 4 Academy Awards, including best picture (not bad for a human and a fish-man pairing), and Beauty and the Beast.

And hey, if a living monster is not your thing, you could always opt for Warm Bodies. Think female human and male zombie. Necrophilia, anyone?

4th Argument: "Okay, fine, I see your point on the Taylor/Zira thing. But that only worked out because it was a human in a monkey suit, and we all sort of knew that. It didn't make it so strange. As for the other films you listed, well, those creatures don't actually exist so it's out of the realm of true possibility anyway. Noa is depicted as a real chimp, and him getting with Mae just makes it hit too close to home for comfort."

Reply: #Ishetho? Let's take a good look at what a "real chimp" looks like:

He's so damn Chimpy.

Okay, now let's look at our leading man--er, ape:

Looks like Chimpy had a love-child with Owen Teague. #shudder

As you can see, the two are pretty different. Chimpy has a true muzzle and a mouth that curves around it. Noa has a flatter, human face with an actual nose bridge and wider-spaced eyes.

And the EYES. My god. If you don't see the humanity in those baby-blues you might want to get checked for psychopathy. Besides that, Chimpy lacks eye-whites and has rounder eyes than Noa. Additionally, that pronounced brow ridge on Chimpy has thunder clouds gathering beneath it. Don't get me started on the ear comparison between the two, I'm sure it goes without saying!

Anyway, I think it can be safely stated that no chimp alive on this earth looks like Noa. He's too physically humanized to resemble an actual chimpanzee of the typical zoo variety. Thus, I would place him safely in the category of fish-man, the tall, blue cat creatures from Avatar, and those barbaric blue aliens that keep cropping up on certain ice planets in books #ifyouknowwhatImean.

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All that said, everyone can ship what they want. If you want Noa playing house with Caesar, never mind that trifling little timeline issue, you go with your fine self and write that fanfiction. Create an account on DeviantArt.com and fill it with their anthropomorphic babies who eventually grow up to be the first ape astronauts. Someone out there is going to love it and eat it up, I promise you.

For the points above, this is about Noa and Mae. They've got something, something tangible. Whether or not it becomes canon is yet to be seen.

For now, it lives on in our minds. With our inner eye, we can see it just fine.