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theragethatisdesire · 1 year

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pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)

pairing: reader x jean kirschtein

wc: 4.6k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie

this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3

-> be there in 5 babe :)

You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.

Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.

The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.

You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.

“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”

“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.

“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.

You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”

Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”

You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”

“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”

“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.

“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”

Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”

“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”

His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”

“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”

“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.

“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.

“That it?”

“I guess.”

“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.

“Yeah.”

“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”

Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”

“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”

That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”

Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”

“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”

“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”

That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”

“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”

“No.”

“Submissive, then.”

“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Already told you about the handcuffs.”

“I bet you have a praise kink.”

That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”

Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”

“Sure.”

“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”

“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.

“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.

“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.

“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”

“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.

“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”

“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.

“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”

You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.

A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.

“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”

He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.

Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”

You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”

Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”

You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.

“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”

Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”

Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.

“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”

You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.

You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.

“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”

You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.

“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”

You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.

“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”

“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.

Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.

“Need something?”

“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.

“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.

“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”

Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”

“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”

“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.

“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.

“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”

You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:

“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”

Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”

“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.

“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”

“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.

“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”

The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.

Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”

“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”

“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”

You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.

“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”

You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.

You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.

“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.

“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”

“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”

“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”

You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.

“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.

“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”

You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”

“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”

“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”

Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”

“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.

“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”

You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.

“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”

“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”

“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.

“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”

“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes.

“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”

“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”

“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”

That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.

Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.

“You okay?”

You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”

Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”

Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”

“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”

You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”

“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”

Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”

“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”

#jean kirschstein #jean smut #jean x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschstein smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschtein smut #attack on titan #snk #snk x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #snk smut #snk headcanons #aot headcanons #jean one-shot

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yuyusboyfriend · 9 months

Note

i’m no writer but i’m always having massive amounts of brainrot so may i offer the idea of professor!yunho and student!reader,, yk, the whole reader can’t focus in class bc prof jeong is just so hot and he catches on but doesn’t do anything about it until they’re actually on the brink of failing the class so he calls them up to his office and then the rest is history

im sorry im a sucker for power imbalances hides back in my corner

Oh my god. Professor Yunho brain rot is so real. THANKS SM ANON FOR THE ASK🫶

Meet me after class.

pairing: professor!yunho × reader

wordcount: 2,6k

warnings: aged up Yunho (late twenties +), reader early 20s, non idol au, afab reader (use of words cunt, clit, pussy - no mentions of chest), dom!Yunho/sub!reader, use of pet names (baby, star, sweetheart, tiny,) use of Sir, cunnilingus (pussy, once again, ate), rough sex, LOTS of praise, yunhos a sweetheart, also a beast iykwim, lmk if theres anything else

Masterlist!˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Every single day you attended classes like the exemplary student you are. You've always had decent enough grades, whether you honestly liked the lesson or just crammed the last second before exams; you've never "flopped" as your friends would say. It stayed this way until you started taking classes taught by the most stunning man you'd ever seen in your lifetime, Professor Jeong Yunho. When you walked into class for the first time 30 minutes early to claim your seat, you had already been beaten to the front rows by numerous other students. Weird, you thought, most people flock to the other end of the classroom—until you saw the professor arranging his papers at the front of the small lecture hall.

You stood frozen on the steps, staring at the older man. His obsidian-black hair fell just above his eyes, moving against his batting eyelashes as he concentrated on whatever he was reading at his desk. His discarded blazer is on the back of his chair, giving you a full view of his toned back and rounded shoulders in his white dress shirt. You're pretty sure your underwear was already ruined once you looked at his rolled-up sleeves, seeing his muscled forearms tensing while he fiddled with his silver rings. You felt relieved seeing no wedding ring though.

His dark eyes scanned the class as he noticed more students flooding through the lecture room doorway, pausing once they landed on your awestruck figure. His deep gaze was what finally broke you out of your trance, forcing your legs to start walking towards your seat, as near to the front desk as you could get. You made a mental note to arrive earlier next time, even if you had to sit between 20 other thirsty students trying to get time with the professor.

You found that Jeong Yunho's class wasn't impossible (on top of his good-looking self, he was a profoundly competent teacher), but it also wasn't for the weak who only came to eye up the man teaching. That being said, the class dropped from seventy-odd students to 40 in the first few months, and the way your grades were going, you were next in line.

Every class, Professor Yunho would drag his eyes over your form as you tapped away on your laptop, making your stomach quiver and your head dazed. As more students left, he gave the remaining more attention, walking around to see if anyone needed help.

"Y/n? How's your work going?" he spoke over your shoulder just above a whisper to not distract anyone else in your area. His knuckles brushed against your back accidentally while gripping your chair, sending involuntary shivers across your body. You begged the man hadn't noticed how your body reacted to him just being in your vicinity for your self-preservation. He had. He always sensed your gaze on him while he was teaching; you weren't very secretive about it either, seeing as everyone else was looking down, typing out his words.

"It's- I'm good! I mean the work, not me. It's fine." You stumbled over your words, scared to see his expression at the fool you just made of yourself. You were stunned to see the corners of his mouth turned upwards, slightly eyes soft looking back at you. A simple smile from him managed to rip the air from your lungs so effortlessly.

In the short months that he had been your teacher, you became infatuated with the man. When you weren't in his classes, all you could think about was him. You wondered what he had for breakfast, what he was wearing today—although, not much was left to the imagination as your friends snapped pictures of him crossing campus and sent them to you. It annoyed you that they would do it without his consent, yet you still saved every photo to the locked collection on your phone. Not to mention your dreams lately; God, as if your mind wasn't a powerful enough tool to daydream with, your dreams went above and beyond; You'd wake up and need to hop in the shower from the mess you had made in your sleeping state.

The current reoccurring dream was you bent over his desk, his hand on the back of your neck and his hips ramming into yours. He grunted as he kept up his relentless pace. You found yourself almost drooling at the reminiscence of it again, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. You sat in the campus café, trying to refine your most recent assignment for his class; Your grade in his class was still at rock bottom—just then the little bell above the door signalled the arrival of another customer.

Oh. Professor Jeong Yunho strode through the door, his jacket in his arm and a backpack strap on his shoulder. He carried on to the counter ordering "the usual" and sat at a table near the window. The outside light framed his face perfectly as he watched people pass by, sipping on his cold coffee before pulling out a small stack of papers to mark. You had forgotten why you were even there until some people stood in front of your line of vision, forcing you to redirect your gaze. Fuck, the assignment you thought knowing it was due in 20 minutes, indicated by the sight of Yunho walking out of the door, not before nodding at the baristas- and you. His eyes did a quick scan of you before he walked away in the direction of your next class.

You had barely managed to finish it and make it to class on time, knowing you had hardly gone over your writing to check for errors.

"Y/n, Could you meet me after class in my office? I would like to discuss your current grades." His deep tone made you nearly fall out of your seat; you were so concentrated on your thoughts on how good he looked today, that you hadn't noticed him approaching you. You felt your stomach sink at his serious expression. Had you gotten too distracted by the gorgeous man, so badly that you were getting kicked out of his lectures? He walked away to start the lesson before you had a chance to even ask for specifics. This was going to be a long few hours.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" you looked at the man sitting at his desk, like a king on his throne. Even now, you could only think about how fine Yunho looked with his tie slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up showing off his biteable forearms. The way his long fingers tapped on his desk as he looked over at your form standing in his office door frame.

"Yes, close the door behind you and take a seat, please." Your heart raced as you sat across him meeting his gaze once again. "So your grades have been pretty low all semester y/n, but now it's reaching a point where you're going to fail if you carry on." He paused to stand up, before continuing," I've spoken to your other professors and checked your files, You've always had good grades, so what's got you so distracted in my class, hm?" he leans against the desk, the same side as you now and tilts his head. What do you even say? Sorry teach I'm so horny for you please do me against every surface in this room?

"I- I'm not sure, I'll get onto it though sir and-" You feel his presence step closer to you.

"You're not sure, are you? That's interesting, because I'm pretty sure I know what's got your little head so busy, so I'll ask again. What's got you so distracted, sweetheart?" He towers over you staring deep into your soul, feeling as though he can see every dirty thought flying around your brain. He brings his large hand down to your face, softly gripping your chin to stop you from averting your gaze again.

"...You." You whisper under your breath, opting to close your eyes, so you don't have to face him.

"Quick learner." Was the last thing he said before he pushed his face forward to meet your lips. As soon as you registered what was happening, you stood up and deepened the kiss you had been so desperate for. He gripped your hips and shoved you against the desk as his tongue swiped along your lip demanding access. Your breathing had become heavy and unstable, not feeling all that attached to oxygen now that you were attached to Yunho's soft lips. He broke the kiss to swipe his pen holders and a couple of papers off of his desk to replace them with your ass. Truthfully, Yunho had already packed all of his belongings away for the day, hoping that this would be the outcome of your visit.

You rutted against his body, back arching to get friction anywhere as he started toying with the waistband of your clothes, not pulling them down yet. "What do you need tiny? You need my cock? My fingers? My tongue? Tell me what you need baby." His voice had dropped into the sexiest, deepest tone; you could feel it in your body as he held himself against you.

"All. Everything." You huff out, still trying to gain friction on his forming bulge.

"I need to know more than that my star, tell me what you've been fantasising about while I've been teaching you." He's known what you've been thinking about for a while, you realise, making you feel even hotter in his grip.

"I… I thought about sitting under your desk, sucking you off while you try to teach the class, and you bending me over your desk as punishment…" You weren't able to stop the words falling out of your mouth along with heavy breaths as he pressed light kisses down your neck, groping your thighs and hips as you spoke.

"Such an obedient student, hm? Now I'm going to fuck you with my tongue, and if you're good, I might let you come on my fingers. How's that sound, baby?" you moan at his words, nodding your head frantically.

"Words." He sternly whispered on your neck, halting all of his movements.

"Please Yunho- sir", He shivered at you saying his name so needily and lifted your hips to pull off your trousers and underwear, stuffing the underwear in his pocket before dropping to his knees between your legs.

"Am I getting those back- ngh!" A moan ripped out of you before you could even finish what you were saying as he licked a stripe across your weeping cunt till he reached your clit. The feeling had you bucking your hips into his face, but he held your thighs in a tight vice, fingertips gripping into your soft flesh. He groaned as he ate you out, mouth working its magic as he brought you closer to relief. The way he flicked his tongue against you had you grasping his soft hair. You had been so desperate to do that since you first saw him; it was just as nice as you had imagined.

"You're so good for me," the heat of his words hitting your thigh as it kissed it, before bringing his index finger to your hole and filling you. You gasped at the intrusion, unable to concentrate on the sensations as he went back to sucking your over-sensitive clit, moans spilling out of your throat.

"Sir please let me cum- I can't-" you stuttered as he slipped another finger in and sped up his pace, realising you wouldn't have to ask twice for your approaching release. He felt your hole clench around his long fingers as you rode them through your orgasm. Yunho watched your fucked out face as he licked your overstimulated pussy once more, before pulling the zipper on his slacks down and fishing a condom out of his pocket. You sat up to help him pull his dick out of his boxers, him letting out a small whimper as you ripped the condom packet with your teeth and slid it down his hard-on painfully slow, earning a pinch on your thigh. God, he looked delicious like this; Hair dishevelled, trousers just pulled down only enough to have his cock out, his tie loosened and top buttons undone, soft tummy peeking out of the ridden-up shirt as he looked down at you through his lashes. You promised to never forget this arousing image when he taught you next.

"You ready my baby? Gonna fill you so well…" He lined up his hips before stuffing you with his thick length; the ache turning into immense pleasure within seconds. He let you adjust to his size once he had bottomed out, rocking into your pussy when you gave him the green light. You were on cloud nine the way he stretched you and dragged his cock against your G-spot immediately.

"Fuck you fit me so well, baby, so good for my cock. Wanna fuck your tight little cunt every day." He bit your ear lobe as he relentlessly impaled you on him over and over while you cried into his neck in pleasure. He had a way of pounding his hips so delectably it made you feel as though you could pass out from the way he pressed into you.

"Say my name sweetheart, say my name while I claim your desperate pussy, hm? Can you do that for me?"

"Fuck Yunho please keep—please harder."

He laughed at your weak voice, "You don't even know what you want, so obedient for me though- fuck," Yunho muttered as his thrusts became more frantic. He knew you were both close as you chanted his name into his shoulder, fingernails digging into his back. Yunho reached down to stroke your clit with the rough pad of his thumb tightening the knot in your stomach, still sensitive from the first orgasm.

"Yunho, please I'm gonna come-"

"Come for me baby, you can do it, cum on my cock" He slammed into your cunt a few more times before he stilled deep in you, your pussy clenching around him in sync. He stammered out more praises and sweet words as you came down from your high with him still in you.

He pulled out carefully as you leaned against his body with all your weight, not having the strength to hold yourself up anymore, and tied the condom, putting it in the trash.

"You doing alright, tiny? Sorry for going so rough on you, you did so well for me." Yunho asked in concern as he cleaned you up and picked up your trousers, still not returning your underwear. You looked into his sweet eyes, before reaching up to the nape of his neck and pulling him down for another kiss. His mouth still had traces of your arousal lingering, tasting sweet as he kissed you gently like you would break as easy as porcelain. Ironic.

"I'm good, Yunho- sorry, sir…" You weren't sure where the two of you stood after that, office yet to rid of the smell of arousal circling the room.

"Please, call me Yunho... Now, are you going to start focusing in my classes and stop eye fucking me every lesson, or do you need more… private lessons?"

You were pretty sure you were going to end the year with A++ with his special help.

OMGGGGG I melted while writing this bro, I hadn't ever planned on writing Dom!ateez bc I'm just a sucker for them as subs but this. This will not be the last.

Also thank you for 69 followers that's so funny 😭😭😭

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez imagine #jeong yunho #yunho drabble #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez yunho #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x atiny #yuyus asks ☆

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twistedwonderlandsimps · 2 years

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Addams!Yuu

I'm just here to mix-and-match different kinds of Yuus with different kinds of personalities to see what monstrosity I can make. That being said,,, Addams!Yuu brainrot!

Don’t be surprised. There’s always gonna be that obligatory Addams Family fusion AU in every fandom and if there’s not then that’s clearly already a sign for you, my dear reader, to start writing one.

Anyway, Addams!Yuu, who doesn’t know about the Addams Family? If you don’t then that must mean I’m ancient (which is fair) and that you should start with the Addams Family 1991 movie.

Addams!Yuu who has the standard issue dark sense of humor, fascination for the weird and macabre, the love for the dark colors that all Addams seem to have and values family a lot.

After Grim opens the coffin, sees Addams!Yuu in all their gothic glory, and then proceeding to threaten them, Addams!Yuu really just said:

“Oh, what bliss! To have slept like the dead, woke up suffocating, and greeted by such sweet words in such a finely made coffin. Is this what it’s like to be courted? What am I getting courted by? A depraved stalker? A monstrous beast? *gasp* Perhaps… a demented serial killer?” [cue Yuu swooning, dramatically holding a hand over their forehead and lightly fanning themselves with their other hand]

Anyway, they don’t ignore Grim for long. Not when Grim keeps threatening them and spewing out fire.

Addams!Yuu immediately became delighted with Grim because, duh, a monster??? Who breathes fire??? With a massive ego??? Threatening to burn them alive???

That’s like the equivalent of someone complimenting them… Maybe even borderline flirting with them.

Still Grim and Addams!Yuu click with each other straight away. Addams!Yuu doesn’t hold back when complimenting Grim, even if the way they compliment someone is weird, and Grim gets a huge ego boost.

These two are an iconic duo who just keep hyping and enabling each other.

“Great Grim, for such a terrifying creature such as yourself…surely you must have committed the most deplorable acts. Oh, you must tell me! How many buildings have you burned down? Were there people inside? How many survived? Oh, if only papà and mamà would let me do the same… They said I have to focus on school first and start small before I can put myself on the government watchlist. *sigh*”

Grim has no idea what Yuu’s saying but he does understand when he’s being complimented, his ego’s inflating and that’s all that really matters, honestly.

Anyway, since the two didn’t do a chase scene with Grim attempting to hurt Yuu (though Addams!Yuu would definitely appreciate this) since the two of them vibed immediately, it didn’t take long for Crowley to find them.

After being led to the Mirror Chambers, Yuu had to physically stop themselves from jumping in joy because:

“A cult! How chilling! I didn’t expect to be kidnapped by a cult! It’s been so long!”

And, “The last cult I joined didn’t seem to appreciate it when I sacrificed a goat on the altar. Apparently they weren’t actually a cult. The police were called and they ended up putting me in an asylum. T’was a lovely vacation.”

Crowley tried to tell Yuu that they weren’t a cult and that they were a well-known and respected establishment but Yuu ignored him (Ha! Get a taste of your own medicine, crowman!) in favor of admiring the surrounding aesthetics.

NRC is the perfect aesthetic for Addams!Yuu. In fact, the Addams Family would definitely love it.

But you know what they’d love more? Ramshackle Dorm as it is.

Forget renovating it and fixing it up to make it livable to the common person, Yuu’s an Addams! Yuu’s just going to make Ramshackle even more dangerous than it already is with its lack of maintenance.

Think spikes all around the property, deadly traps around every corner of the hallways, and maybe even a few sentient trees and carnivore plants here and there.

Where did Yuu even get those sentient floras? Shhhhh… They’re an Addams, don’t question it.

This version of Yuu… probably genuinely respects Crowley wholeheartedly. [The myuultiverse is quaking. A Yuu who actually considers Crowley a good guardian?]

Yuu at Crowley, somewhere in the future: “You are the most idle person anyone can ever hope to meet. A coward. Wastrel. Careless. Greedy and money-hungry… How admirable.”

Crowley’s constantly getting backhanded compliments and he can’t do anything about it because Yuu is an Addams and Addamses have a weird way of thinking.

As far as Addams!Yuu can tell, they’re completely normal and everyone else around them are weirdos but they’re too nice to say anything about it.

Now imagine putting Addams!Yuu and Kalim in the same room.

JK, the two may have different personalities but they’d probably be good friends… after some rocky situations here and there caused by some misunderstandings.

Yuu might think that Kalim’s being mean to them at first because the Scarabia Dorm Leader called them ‘nice and kind’ which, in Addams vocabulary, isn’t considered a compliment.

When Kalim learnt of this odd Addams culture, he tried to make an effort to speak words with negative connotations but he felt it was too mean so he just goes, “Yuu! You look nice! But… uh, in a dead way! And you’re fun and kind, but the opposite of that! Ahahaha!”

Kalim found a loophole and he’s going to take advantage of it. Yuu gets what he’s saying anyway so it all works out.

Anyway, overblots…

Yeah, you really think Yuu’s going to run away from it? Expect them to be watching from the sidelines (hecc, they might even actively head towards the overblot) and becoming Rook 2.0 with the way they compliment the overblotee.

Them just going:

“Ah, those strong emotions that you’ve withheld inside of you suddenly going off like an atomic bomb upon a dreary night sky. That rage in your expression, that despair in your eyes… You’ve forgotten your humanity and transformed yourself into a beast. How tragic, how beautiful. Tell me, how long have you been torturing yourself?”

Sevens forbid they actually meet Rook. Rook sees beauty in everything and he’s sharp so getting into Addams!Yuu’s grace alone by just words is as simple as taking candy from a baby.

I would type a dialogue with Rook and Addams!Yuu but I honestly don’t understand how Rook talks so just imagine it. Just Yuu and Rook continuously firing off compliments to each other until either one of them gets flustered to silence or the others pull the two away from each other.

Just imagine Rook sending a letter to Yuu via an arrow grazing their head and Yuu just swoons.

Out of everyone in NRC, I could see Rook being one of the three people who can immediately reel Yuu in with just their charms alone.

Anyway, Rook would probably fit in with the Addams.

Yuu could literally just introduce him to their family and they’d assume he was a very distant cousin with how he is.

Yuu asks Vil for poison now and again (no one’s brave enough to ask what they’re doing with it) and likes the way he’s obsessed with being the most beautiful person.

“Your ambition to become the most beautiful person to the point of insanity is admirable, Vil Schoenheit. How long can your sanity hold on, I wonder?”

Imagine Yuu seeing Neige LeBlanche and getting mental damage from how bright and cheerful he is.

Yuu being like ‘aight, bet’ when witnessing Vil overblot and then planning on poisoning Neige.

Aside from Pomefiore, Yuu also spends most of their time on Diasomnia.

Diasomnia is literally the second peak Addams aesthetic out of all the dormitories. First being Ramshackle, obviously.

I feel Malleus and Yuu would get along quite well. They’re both elegant and have that certain vibe to them.

Malleus could just talk about gargoyle structure and lore and Yuu would probably listen to him all the way and similarly, Yuu could talk about the witch hunts their ancestor used to have and Malleus would listen just as intently.

You know what… Lilia’s food is probably a delicacy to them.

That thing is a weapon of mass destruction and I refuse to believe that Addams!Yuu wouldn’t like it if a mere food can take down hundreds, if not thousands, of people when ingested.

Addams!Yuu also likes Silver because he ‘sleeps like the dead’. Though, his little critter friends should probably be wary about going near Yuu.

Oddly enough, I think Addams!Yuu would also like Sebek’s boisterous personality solely because of his passion and if it’s one thing I know about Addams, it’s that they’re passionate.

Sure, it may be passion about spreading Malleus’ name and glory all over the world like a missionary with a mission (duh), but it’s passion nevertheless.

Diasomnia aside, no one in Heartsalbyul asks for Yuu to help them with maintaining the plants because last time someone did, Yuu ended up cutting a good chunk of the roses off of the stems before they were stopped by both Ace and Deuce.

Of course Riddle got angry but after a few talks here and there and some communication (that’s character development) from both parties, Yuu realize that cutting the roses off of the bushes was a no-no and instead settles for painting the roses red when needed because it reminds them of the color of blood.

All in all Addams!Yuu would definitely fit right in with Night Raven College.

It has the aesthetics and no one there is overly cheerful or colorful so it’s the perfect place for an Addams to reside at.

The overblots are just everyday routine for Yuu and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

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moonstruckme · 8 months

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Oh last one I swear. But nobody seems to write any Peter fics where the reader is an artist/art student and I just always saw the concept as rlly cute. Like science student and art student do you see where I’m going with this 😋 anyways. Just brainrot. Idk if this counts as a request lmao

-🍁/🍂 (iforgot what emoji I use)

Hi again, haha! I didn't set out to answer both your asks in one day, but I already had this one ready to go, so. I know you didn't necessarily request it, but I decided to write a little blurb anyway, hope you like it! (And it's the first emoji, but I'll know it's you either way :))

Peter Parker x artist!reader ♡ 598 words

Peter used to get an odd sort of pride from thinking he was always the last one on campus, messing around in the lab until the early hours of the morning. But then he’d met you, and you’d totally dethroned him.

There’s bright light coming from inside one of the art studios when Peter passes by, and he detours, heading for it. He’s a mutant that can run on an average four hours of sleep and his eyes are aching, so he can’t imagine how exhausted you must be. But if he didn’t interfere, he wonders if you’d go home at all.

When he enters the studio, he has to close his eyes against the sparks jumping off your project.

“Sweetheart?”

The light behind his eyelids fades, and he opens them to see you lifting your welder’s helmet, setting your torch down on the table beside you.

“Peter, hey.” You blink as though coming out of a fog. “Are you already done for the night?”

He smiles at you, moving closer to admire your sculpture. It doesn’t look quite halfway done, but to Peter’s crude eye, it seems like it’s coming along beautifully. You’d shown him your sketch before you’d started, it’s going to be massive and elaborate by the time you’re done. But you won’t be finishing tonight.

“It’s nearly four, baby. Time to pack up.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, seriously?” He nods, and you purse your lips, displeased with the passage of time. “Okay, you go ahead. I’m going to get to a good stopping point, and I’ll meet you at home.”

It sounds reasonable, but Peter knows you better.

“You can get back to it tomorrow,” he says, slipping your helmet off for you and placing it carefully beside your torch. “Don’t you think it’ll come out even better if you’re well-rested while you work? I don’t want my girl getting in a blowtorch accident.”

“I’m not that tired,” you argue, but your blinks are slow, almost dazed, and Peter suspects that if he put a pillow under your head right now, you’d pass out in a hot second. “And I’m too good to burn myself.”

Peter grins. “That’s true,” he agrees, moving behind you to untie your apron. You let him slip it over your head. “It’s looking really great, by the way.” He undoes in the tight bun in the back of your head, knowing your scalp has to be sore. “Did you make any changes from your original idea?”

“A couple.” You lean into Peter’s fingers as he massages the back of your head lightly, shaking your hair out at the roots. “Sometimes it just goes where it wants to go, you know?”

“I don’t,” he says, taking your hand to lead you out of the room, “but I believe you.”

You chuckle. It turns into a yawn halfway through. “Right, sorry. What’d you do today, bug boy?”

Peter hangs your apron on the hook by the door, closing it behind you. You’re all but leaning into him, further proof that you’re more drowsy than you’re letting on. “You know, bug things.”

“Come on.” You bump your hip into his lightly, and your voice is by no means loud, but it creates a soft echo in the dark, empty building. “You got to see my project, tell me about yours.”

Peter shrugs. “I was just messing around with environmental nanotoxicology.”

Your laugh rings out, surprised and joyous, in the silent hallway. “I have no idea what that means,” you say, pulling him closer to you by his hand. “Tell me about it?”

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x self insert #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker scenario #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker oneshot #tasm!peter oneshot #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 4 months

Text

Less Dire Situations | 1

Part 2

Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.

Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.

A/N: i have an andrew garfield brainrot and i needed a fic to help me escape, thus this fic. btw its originally posted on ao3

Tagging: @sloanexx @azperja

I groan and slam my head on the table.

"Brava," Peter laughs and claps his hand, a pencil between his grip, "she's done it, folks. All 22 questions." He shifts on his chair and checks his phone for the time, "and it only took 3 hours."

I begrudgingly lift my head and glare at him, "there would still be daylight had you let me cheat."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you don't pay me enough for that."

I raise my brows, "I feel like your reasoning is skewed."

Peter puts his pencil down and crosses his arms. He watches me as I finally close my journal and maths book, gathering my things into my bag. He tidies up his things too, "hey. You genuinely did good though."

"Psh. Gee. Thanks," I throw my pencil case in my pack.

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm serious," he places a hand on my shoulder, "you did good. You understood the concept. I'm proud of you."

He looks genuine when he says this, solemn and earnest even. I can't help but smile back at him, the vexation in my system, shattering into a million pieces. I chuckle and nod, "thank you, Peter."

He smiles.

I make a face, "you're such a dad."

Peter laughs under his breath and gathers his things.

"You ever hear that before?"

"Wow," he says exaggeratedly, "it's almost like you don't call me that every chance you get," he stands as he brings his books in his arms. He points the eraser end of his pencil, "which is such a foul, considering I don't have one."

I cackle. Peter chuckles inwardly, shaking his head as he heads into his bedroom. He mutters breathily, "you're so messed up in the head."

I tidy the rest of my things and fix his two-seater dining table. I then stand and push the chairs under the table, putting my backpack on.

Peter comes out of his bedroom, hand in one pocket, the other adjusting his glasses, "I'll walk you home."

I shake my head, "nah. I'm gonna go get a hotdog."

"That's fine," he heads to his front door and grabs his coat, "my treat," he puts on his coat and looks over his shoulder, "using the money you paid me."

I roll my eyes and chuckle as he opens the door.

"Ladies first," he motions and bows.

"You're such a weirdo," I walk out his apartment.

"True," he closes the door.

We eat hotdogs, heaping with relish, mustard, and ketchup on a bench by the river. It was out of the way from my home, but it was always a welcome detour, in my opinion.

I lick my lips as I look at the massive monument across from us. The Manhattan Bridge; my final stop.

I point as I chew.

Peter looks as he takes a bite of his hotdog. He turns back to me, "Manhattan Bridge."

"My launch pad," I say. I swallow and hold the rest of my hotdog in both hands, "one day, I'll jump."

He stills in his spot. He refrains from eating his hotdog and wonders if he heard right as he watches me continue to eat mine. He shifts and turns to me.

I chomp, and chew, and look back at him.

"What?"

I was never one to repeat myself, so I don't.

"Don't joke like that."

I turn to my hotdog and mutter under my breath, "I'm not joking."

Peter hears this of course but he doesn't doesn't give it away.

I look back at him and stuff hotdog in my face. The worry and concern that radiates off his face eats at me. I regret saying it. Part of me wants to tell him, to seriously tell him I am messed up in the head. I want to tell him the idea of jump off such a pretty bridge that means so much to so many people sounds so... cathartic.

I want to tell him I don't want him to feel concerned or worried. I don't want anyone to feel that way for me, which is precisely why I want to do this.

I don't though, because I know he'll only be more concerned and worried.

I grin at him and nudge him with my elbow, "it'd be a great way to meet the Spoods, huh?"

I cackle to myself as Peter gets recoils.

He doesn't respond to my joke, not in anyway that counted. He straightens up and gives a sigh, "a Spiderman joke?"

I nod.

He shakes his head, "still not funny."

"Oh, come on, grampa. What? You can't take a dark joke?"

"Dark jokes are funny."

"Come on," I raise my arms, "it is. Spiderman has saved so many people from falling before! It's a great idea."

"Listen," he raises a hand, "if you want to meet Spiderman, I hear there's a spot he goes to a lot."

"Pshh," I wave him off, "where's your sense of adventure? Where's the serendipity?"

He shakes his head, looking at the last of his hotdog. He doesn't feel like eating it anymore.

I decide to lighten the mood by pointing at other things and commenting on them. I get a couple chuckles out of him by the time I finish the last of my hotdog. When I turn to him, I recognize how badly I've killed the mood.

He and I stare for a moment. I can only take so much until I decide to look at his hotdog.

I grab it and eat it myself. He watches as I stand and brush the crumbs off my hands. With a mouthful, I say, "you snooze, you lose."

Peter stands and places his hands in his pockets.

He walks me home like he always does, only this time the mood was not so chipper.

When I get to my building, I give him a smile and wave, "thanks for the hotdog, Parker."

We stand in front of the entrance.

"And for walking me," I add.

He nods and smiles, "you're welcome. You should still eat dinner though, particularly vegtables."

I snort and nod, "yes, dad." I head towards the door.

"And hey," he calls out, making me stop.

I look back at him and raise my brows.

Peter presses his lips together, "it was a joke, right? Just a silly, ha-ha joke."

My heart sinks. I smile and lie through my teeth, "of course, Peter."

Peter stares at me. He smiles. He nods, "good."

"Good," I nod back.

"There's still so much Algebra you have to learn."

"Good night, Peter."

He watches me as I go inside. He is deeply unsettled, "night."

It's been 30 minutes since I woke up. Where once was only shadow, at this point, the sunshine was trickling through. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling were no longer glowing.

My alarm goes off. It's now 8 o' clock.

I sit down on my bed and wipe my face. Time to check the news.

I grab my phone and finally end my alarm. I open my news and look at the latest headlines. My eyes are heavy as I scroll through the depressing articles: the war of Israel, the genocide of Palestine, the war crimes in Sudan, the human rights crisis in Afghanistan, the exploitation of Congo, the US missile strikes in Yemen, topped off with local crime and, neighborhood disturbances-- fuck, someone killed a 90-year-old at the K-mart two blocks down?

I chew on my lip as I feel desperation creep up my spine. My fingers are ice cold and my eyes water as I search the tabloids for something-- anything.

But there was nothing.

There was no news on Spiderman.

I throw my phone on the sheets in front of me.

I turn to my calendar on the wall, looking at today's date, encircled with red, just like every day before it.

I stand and grab my red marker, crossing today out, just like every date before it. I look at date tomorrow, fingers tingling with agitation.

Why won't he just come?

I encircle tomorrow's date and decide, fuck it. I toss the marker on my desk. Tomorrow's D-day regardless if Spiderman shows.

I grab my towel and take a cold shower.

The next thing I know, I'm freezing in first period. I exhale on my hands and rub them together as Ms. Vasquez explains today's activity, a study on good vs evil, a sketch that concisely depicts each side, utilizing the combination of techniques we've been discussing for the week.

She says while were drawing, she'll also make rounds to check on our the status of our final output.

By the time she comes to my desk, I'm halfway through my sketch.

Ms. Vasquez looks at my drawing pad and smiles. I look to her, then my work. It was what it was.

She places her tender, veiny hand on my shoulder, "exceptional work, my dear. As always."

I turn to her. I don't know what about 'as always' rubbed me the wrong way. Was it the implicit excellence constantly required of me? Was it the feeling I had nowhere else to go and therefore had to keep outdoing myself? Was it the fact I didn't actually believe I was always exceptional? Was it the fact it felt like it negated all the times I did feel exceptional but people couldn't discern it?

I smile, "thanks, Ms. V."

The middle aged woman purses her lips. She scrutinizes my expression and I get nervous. She motions with her head, "I especially like the rendering you did."

I turn to my drawing.

"There's more visual weight on the good side than the evil, making it look darker."

I release a chuckle and turn back to her.

"There's that smile," Ms. Vasquez said.

"Can't get anything past you," I mutter lowly. I rub my neck uncomfortably.

"That remains to be seen," the woman responds, "do you finally have something to show me for your finals?"

I press my lips into a small smile and examine my current drawing, only to release my pencil and give her a bashful expression. I make nonsensical sounds. She raises her thin brows in concern.

"Come on," she urges, tightening her cardigan around her, "not 1 sketch? Not even a doodle?"

I let out an airy chuckle, "I haven't really been seeing inspiring heroes lately."

I watch as her freckled face contorts, her smile lines turn to frown lines and her forehead curls with worry, "a lot of your classmates are doing their parents, siblings, friends. I've seen a lot of Spiderman sketches too. And Iron Man... And that one trapeze act from Hell's Kitchen."

I snort at the mention.

"You mind me looking at your sketchbook?"

"Sure," I push my open book towards her.

"I mean your personal sketchbook."

I freeze at the mention. I look at her, trying to figure if she was serious or not.

She raises her hands, "artist to artist, I know it's like opening your ribcage, so I won't judge. But teacher to student," she sighs, "I'm honestly concerned about you. You were so excited when I announced A Study on Heroes. I wanna know what's going on with your drawings at least."

Fuck. I rub my thumbs across my fingers and chuckle, "ah. What can I say," I take my backpack and rummage through my things, "burnout."

I hand her my notebook. It was tattered and crusty. It had pages clinging on for dear life and ones that didn't belong there at all.

Ms. Vasquez accepts the object with reverence. I gulp as I watch her open it. If she catches the page where I drafted my suicide notes, she either doesn't notice or doesn't note it. I'm sure as hell she saw my distressed drawings, but she doesn't say a word about that either. She is completely stoic as he works her way back into my work.

My heart nearly leaves me when she turns my book to me, "who's this?"

I look at the primitive sketch. I look at the faceless figure eating a block of something undistinguishable. I don't know how she knew it was someone at all, "that's Peter."

"Peter Matthew? From the other section?"

"No," I shake my head, "just Peter. He's studying bio-chem."

"Ah," she nods, tucking her dark curly hair behind her ear.

I wait for her to explain how she knew the sketch was a person, but she doesn't. She only brings the book back to her chest and continues flicking the pages.

After a while, she shows me again, "what about these?"

I look at the plump man who had a handless raised arm. The paper where his wrist ends was ripped, having been been erased so many times. There are other doodles of him surround that one, scenes of taking orders and making angry faces. I had forgotten about those. My teacher turns the page and I see more of him.

"That's Eddie," I point toward the whiteboard, "he sells-" I swallow the lump on my throat "... doughnuts."

She nods, "why not him?"

I look at my sketchbook as she places it before me.

"I-" I shake my head, "haven't bought doughnuts there in so long. I doubt I should even do him." I close my notebook and shove it back into my bag.

Ms. Vasquez takes a moment before replying, "there's light and dark within all of us. Sometimes acknowledging the darkness is the first step to letting it go, to make room for light."

My nerves begin to tighten when she says this.

She releases a breath, "if he was relevant enough for you to commit more than 5 pages, I'd say he impacted you enough."

Thank goodness she let it go. "... his doughnuts were pretty good."

"Good then," she nods, "find an angle. Think of how he impacted you, say--" she shakes her head in thought, "you eat his doughnuts when you're stressed and after, you feel like life isn't so bad."

I pick up my pencil and nod. I absentmindedly continue shading my current drawing.

I perk when she calls my name. I turn back to her.

"I've been lax on you because I know you're a good student," Ms. Vasquez explains, making my throat constrict. She continues, "and because the finals were still pretty far. But not anymore," she raises a finger, "I need something soon. And I mean within this week soon."

"Yes, Ms. Vasquez."

She nods, "it can be about the doughnut guy, or someone else entirely. Okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles when she walks away and so do I.

The next thing I know, I'm being yanked back to keep my balance.

I whip to my left, barely hearing what Peter had to say against the loud bustle of the street.

When he lets go of me, we stop by the corner of the pavement. He tucks his hands back into his jacket pocket, "you are so out of it."

"Sorry," I make a face then smile, "Ms. Vasquez really chewed me out."

His brows quirk, "she did?"

"Yeah," I look at the passing cars, then the streetlight, "I've been procrastinating the final work for too long. She said even I couldn't shit out a whole final output overnight."

Peter doesn't respond until after we cross the street. He nudges me with the hand buried in his jacket, "what was your final output again?"

"Ah, we're supposed to make a fleshed out character design on a hero of our choosing. They have to have impacted us someway."

He nods. He takes a chance on a joke, "so no Spidey for you."

I chuckle and shake my head, "a lot of people are actually doing Spiderman."

"For real?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

I laugh, looking back to where I was walking, "yeah. It's all about justifying it, you know."

Peter feels fuzzy inside. He chuckles, "he walked my dog once."

I laugh and follow-up, "he beat up my 6th grade bully."

Peter snorts then adjusts his glasses.

At this point, we take a turn and the smell of warm vanilla becomes apparent. It doesn't take long for us to reach Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts.

I stop at the entrance for a moment. Peter looks at me and pulls me back, so not to disrupt the flow of people. Even through it all, the place was busy as ever.

"You okay?" Peter asks me.

I nod as I turn to my feet. I give him a smile and impulsively push the glass doors open, walking into the store even though my chest was tightening.

Peter follows after me, not saying a word. We stand in line. The line was as long as I remember, maybe even longer.

The warmth of the store, which used to be so welcoming and comforting, felt suffocating now. I stare at the checkered floor; the tiles were new. It seems even the walls were freshly painted. I rub my hands together as the line moves.

"Hey," Peter says from behind, patting my shoulder. I look back and turn where he was pointing.

My heart gets nipped at when I see a portrait of Eddie on the wall. It was candid shot, his face was stoic as he fried donuts.

I gulp and look forward.

As I got closer and closer to the front, I turn to Peter and grab his arm. He looks at me with reassurance. He takes the lead when it was our turn.

"Hey Eduardo," Peter says.

"Peter," the man exclaims, "the-" he stops himself when he sees me. I make eye contact with Eduardo and muster up all the guts to smile at him.

He speaks my name with such surprise and fondness, guilt nearly paralyzes me.

"How've you been, Da Vinci?!" the beefy man chuckles with excitement, "it's been so long! We missed you here!"

Peter turns to me with a smile. My chest tightens as I smile back.

"Peter says you're gonna be a big shot animator soon!'

My lip slightly trembles, "nah. I'm barely even graduating."

Eduardo waves his large hands, "oh-ho-ho. Dad was crazy about your drawings. And you know him. He's not crazy about anything but doughnuts."

My smile crumbles at the weight of the conversation.

Eduardo turns to the baked goods before him, his profile on full display, a carbon copy of his father's, then back to us, "whatever you want, Da Vinci, you got it. On the house."

"I- E-Eduardo- it's fine."

"Oh no. I gotta convince you to be a regular again," he smiles. I notice he's got a golden tooth now. Eduardo shakes his head, "what was it? Boston Creme and a Bear Claw?"

I don't nod but he gets the order anyway.

"The regular for me too, Eduardo."

"Yeah, yeah, pay up, Parker."

Peter and I head to the register. There, we are assisted by Lorenzo, who immediately says, "sorry about my older brother."

The soft smile on his angular face soothes me enough that I actually manage to smile back.

"It is so nice to see you again though," Lorenzo says as he rings up our order, "really."

Peter watches as I rub my arm. Lorenzo says the amount due.

Peter turns to Lorenzo, passing a bill as he says, "hey. Last time my ham and cheese was cold."

Lorenzo raises a bushy brow, "tough luck, kid." The lanky man gives Peter his change and Eduardo himself comes to give us our order packed food.

"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," the older of the two brothers says, "make sure to come back; Chico would want to see you."

Peter takes our order. The three men look at me.

My face contorts, "I..." I suck in a breath, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

Lorenzo presses his lips. Eduardo smiles, "thank you. I'm sorry too. We all miss him here. I'm happy you had the courage to come back."

"It was hard to open up again after we closed up," Lorenzo says with a half smile, "but it's what dad would have wanted."

Peter and I eat our warm treats on our way back to campus. The crunch of the dough and the sweetness of the cream made me feel like I wasn't where I was right now. It was enough to make me cry, so I don't think about it too much.

"Are you gonna do it?" Peter asks, "the hero thing?"

I turn to him and shake my head, "I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."

A loud car honk from afar fills the air.

"Maybe you could do it, in memoriam."

I chuckle under my breath.

The thought of coming back to ask for photos from the bereaved family sounds horrifying. I want to argue on this point, but I dismiss the thought altogether. It doesn't matter anyway.

"You know what," I smile at Peter, "when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea."

Peter perks as he takes a bite of his food. He chews and nods, "it is."

I turn back to my doughnut, and speak without a second though, "I hate that he died. I hate that it was him. No one deserves to go out like that."

He doesn't get to respond.

"The police don't even care. No one cares." I shake my head, "not even Spiderman cares anymore."

Peter feels winded. He turns to his ham and cheese. He feels tempted to say 'cut the Spiderman some slack' about as much as he wants to say he was too busy with homework, too busy with Calculus... too busy enjoying tutoring to have time to put on the suit.

"I hate that we have to depend on some masked bozo for justice," I say out of spite.

Peter and I halt at a bend.

He looks at me as I look at the street, littered, polluted, and filthy. Peter thinks there's so much to unpack here.

He zones onto my face, studying the wafting strands of hair, the visible turmoil, and the tormented beauty.

"You know what, Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind what I said. Good for him," I take a bite of my warm food, "I'd bail too. Probably build a web swing for myself and rob the Trump tower."

I laugh when I say this. Peter doesn't.

Peter decided Spiderman did care.

He got in his suit and spent the whole night waiting by the radio on his desk for a scene to help out on, not that he had to wait the whole night for something to happen.

There wasn't anything big, which was a good thing, just a few run away robbers and gang fights needing to be broken up.

It was, what, weeks, a month and a half since he put on the suit? It both felt so long and not long at all. What he knew for sure was that he missed this.

He missed it so much he swung around New York until he couldn't.

And then he missed his morning alarms.

When he finally woke up, he felt incredibly well-rested, a little too well-rested. When he realized he caught up with his sleep, he jolted into a panic and knew he fucked up.

He scrambles for his phone, slapping his hand on his bedside table. He checks his screen and jumps out of bed when he sees it's 2pm. He webs his backpack towards him and leaps out of the window, swinging through after lunch traffic.

He lands on campus, a little winded and sweaty, praying he could still catch what was left of his class that starts at 1:40. He sprints to his building, evading most of the people around. Just as he runs up to the entrance, he passes a woman who startles because of him.

It happens in slow-motion; Peter's spider senses cause him to turn and witness the aftermath just as it played out. She lady was carrying way too much for a person of her size; the heaps of paper in her arms comes crashing down.

His instincts get the best of him and he shoots a web at her water jug before it hits the ground. He makes an abrupt stop and grabs her arm before she loses her balance.

"Woah there," he huffs, keeping the woman upright.

She gasps as her things escape her.

Peter releases her arm and picks up the fallen objects.

She catches her breath and watches as he hands her the papers. He gives a guilty look, "sorry about that."

The middle aged woman knits her thin brows and huffs, "you running late or what?"

Peter chuckles with guilt, holding her water container by its handle, "I'm so late."

She grunts as she carries her papers. He makes a face when she leans back to carry the weight, clearly struggling.

Peter releases a breath and chuckles, "but uh-" he takes the papers back from her, "not too late."

"Oh, you don't-"

"No, ma'am, I insist," he says, "I'm guessing you're heading into the main building?"

"Actually," she slowly takes her water container from him, "I'm heading to my car. It's in the lot outside campus."

"Alright then," he smiles, "lead the way."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I really do need help..."

Peter chuckles, "yep. Yes. It's fine."

She smiles and nods, raising her arm forward.

They walk to her car and when they get there, he places the papers in the front seat.

"Thank you so much," she sighs, clutching her jug in her chest, "what's your college? Maybe I can put in good word to your teacher for getting you late."

Peter laughs, "no, it's fine really. I'm, uh, in bio-chem."

She raises a brow, "you wouldn't happen to be a Peter, would you?"

He's surprised, "woah, I am actually."

The woman chuckles, "what a coincidence."

Peter's heart leaps when she says your name and explains you're in her class, introducing herself as Ms. Vasquez. She says you mentioned him just yesterday, as he was the subject in one of your drawings. As quickly as his heart soars, it crashes when she tells him you had gifted her the water container in her hand.

Ms. Vasquez raises it, flaunting the familiar looking thing, "she's such a sweet girl."

That was your container.

"But you know," she adds, "I'm concerned about her. Has she been acting odd lately?"

Peter gulps, his entire body tenses. He can't speak.

"She hasn't been passing her requirements on time, and normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but she's been my student for 5 semesters, and she's never once been late, let alone missed a submission."

He uncomfortably smiles, "she's... I don't -she's going through some stuff."

Ms. Vasquez' brows furrow but she nods, "well I'm glad to know she has you in her life," she pats his shoulder, "thank you again, Peter."

Peter raises his hand in regard as the woman gets into her car. The moment she drives off, he pulls out his phone and calls you.

Except he doesn't call when he catches the 13 missed calls you've left him. His soul nearly slips out of his body as your 'this could have been a text, Parker,' line plays in his head; you hate calling.

He frantically presses his thumbs on your number. His pulse races as he hears the continuous ringing and did-not-pickup beep.

Fuck his 2pm class.

He looks for you all over campus. He checks almost every room in your building before realizing it was a waste of precious time. He revisits all the areas you've taken him, and visits places you've mentioned once before. He goes through the entire campus, then runs around the entire neighborhood.

He goes to your building but the guard to your dorm won't let him in without you there, even though he knew him well. He climbs up the fire exit but you had your curtains drawn and the windows locked. He tries knocking, then debates on breaking the window down. He decides against it.

He goes to the convenience store, the fast food chain, the café, the thrift shop, the bodega, the pharmacy, the record store, all of which you loved, but doesn't find you. He finds himself busting through the arcade you loathed because of how loud it was and the flower shop you scorned because they over-charged you once.

Nothing.

He finds himself busting into Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts, nearly breaking the glass door down with him.

The brothers turn to door and give a chorus of shocked exclamations.

"Jesucristo, hermano!" Eduardo shouts from the counter.

Lorenzo gasps and clutches his chest, leaning toward the register.

"You good, Pedrito?" Chico asks as he stops cleaning the tables.

Peter feels sweat on his neck and back begin to cling on his shirt. He surveys the unusually vacant establishment, finding only 3 customers present.

Chico wipes down the tables with his thick arms and large fingers, "you want an iced strawberry latte, kid? You looked stressed."

"He's in university," Lorenzo chuckles, going back on his phone, "what do you expect?"

Peter shakes his head and waves his hands, asking if they've, by any chance, seen you.

"Ah, yeah," Chico smiles, "she was just here."

"Wait, what?"

Eduardo grins and steps away from his station, pointing at the wall by Peter's side, "she set those up."

Chico and Peter turn to where Eduardo heads.

Peter surveys the wall that was bare just just yesterday. Where once only a small portrait of the brothers' father adorned the space, now had a framed illustration of Eddie and his kids beside a bulletin board where multiple pages were pinned. Most of them, he recognized, were your doodles of Eddie, ripped out of your sketchbook, the others were notes written with different handwriting.

"She asked if she could something to the wall," Eduardo said, "I thought she was gonna put one drawing of dad. I was shocked when she started ripping at her journal. She said... what did she say Chi-"

"Art keeps the memory of those we love alive," Chico raises a finger.

Lorenzo makes a face, "she literally only said art is meant to be shared."

"That's what she meant," Chico eyes his younger brother.

Lorenzo shakes his head and turns to Peter, "she was actually looking for you too."

His stomach drops, "she was?"

"Yeah," Lorenzo puts his phone down and rummages through the drawer behind him. He pulls out something and reaches out to Peter, "she said to give you this if you come."

Peter dashes forward and receives... a Tawagoshi.

"When she left, I realized she didn't think of why just giving it to you tomorrow," Lorenzo says, crossing his lean arms.

Peter looks at him in a panic, "did she say where she was headed?"

Lorenzo is taken aback by his expression, ".... uh... No? She- she didn't."

Just as Eduardo continues to muse about the new wall decorations and how so many people posted their letters to Eddie, Peter busts out of the place, just as roughly as he came in, causing Eduardo and Chico to yell at him in Spanish.

At this point, Peter is full on Spiderman. He puts on his suit and swings through the city. He's on high alert as he goes through each street.

Part of him wants to take thorough looks through every corner of the neighborhood, but his gut was urging him to speed through the avenue, dead set on a destination.

The sun begins to set on New York when he reaches the Manhattan Bridge. He looks down from the pillars of the structure. As the seconds pass, he feels more and more desperate.

He lies on his back and takes off his mask. He takes his phone out and calls you over and over and over.

He wonders if you already did it. He sits up and stares at the river, eyes watering as he imagines your lifeless body floating up the shoreline. He pulls his mask on, tugging it on his head way harder than need.

He realizes he started to cry when his lenses begins to fog. He tugs his mask on and snaps himself out of it. He battles with himself on what he should do next.

He's already off the other side of the bridge when he feels the urge to swing back. He wrestles with himself, unwilling to waste time, but ultimately he succumbs to that urge and perches himself back atop the pillar.

And then, the worst possible flavor of relief washes through him when he sees you. It's cruel how you don't even think twice when you reach the middle of the bridge.

"NO!" Peter yells as you climb onto the railing.

He swings towards you, using his body as a pendulum to reach you faster.

You're already free falling when Spiderman whips himself towards you.

He catches you.

You let out a grunt as your body cracks at the impact.

Peter has and arm and his legs around you, "what are you doing? What are you doing?!"

You look at him, eyes red and puffy. Your voice is hoarse, "S-pidey?"

#dd:dne #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #spiderman fan fiction #spiderman fanfic #avengers fan fiction #peter parker angst #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fiction #marvel au #peter parker x reader #spiderman angst #andrew garfield fanfic #spiderman andrew garfield #spiderman fic #spiderman au

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misc-obeyme · 7 days

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YEAHHH JOIN THE SOLOMAMS TRAIN !! I am here to ramble, they make me crazy. I'm brainrotting so hard about coffee shop AU. Vibrating with ideas.

I never thought about Mammon owning the cafe, but hell that would be so cool!! Okay, okay, here's my thoughts. Mammon owns the cafe and works there, and also has an apartment directly above it (trying to decide WHY he owns it, maybe took over from Lucifer?? Bought the cheap building impulsively bc apartment, deciding it was a problem for future him to decide what he'd make out of the lower space).

People go mostly for him because the vibes are immaculate, everyone always leaves in a better mood. The college campus down the block has a rumor that if you buy a coffee, leave a good tip (specifically dollar coins or two dollar bills), and have an exam the next day, you'll always get a passing grade no matter what. Mammon works overtime during midterms and finals, business is booming.

Solomon is a college student (need to decide on a major) and comes at the exact same time every weekday morning, buying a danish (sometimes strawberry, sometimes ham and cheese) and a coffee before class, except on Wednesdays because he doesn't have classes. Mammon knows his order by heart after a month, but pretends to ask him what he wants while literally typing it into the kiosk. Mammon will squint at him, somehow knowing which danish he'll choose that day before Solomon utters a word. "Ahaha, why do you ask when you already have a danish boxed up?" "Who says that's for you, eh? I don't know everyone's order around here." "Not everyone. You're right. Just mine :]" "O-OI, SHUT UP BEFORE I CHARGE YA EXTRA!"

If I'm including my mc, I'm definitely working at a record shop a block down the street (my dream job)!! Records, CD's, small music sheet collection, buying services (trading and hunting down records is available for repeat customers, AHEM, Lucifer and Solomon.) Took over from the old owner because I visited so much as a teen, was hired as soon as I was old enough, and took over at say 22 ish.

HEAR ME OUT, Solomon who still uses a walkman. I think it'd be nice. He visits the store occasionally after class to browse, getting lost in the CD's. I'm imagining him having a massive collection, and having some rare items. He once showed up with a copy of something I had only ever dreamed of owning (once saw it secondhand for $800, he also had other stuff with him), and I almost jumped across the counter when he said he was looking to sell or trade for credit. "You look like you're simultaneously about to faint or attack me." "I can't decide which to do."

Lucifer loves collecting records, so he visits a lot, and uses it as an excuse to check up on Mammon (won't admit it). There's a collection of records kept up front that are deemed 'cursed' because they always skip the first track (Lucifer will buy one every month). Lucifer became a regular after I accidentally came across a rare first press edition of a record online and presented it to him because he mentioned it was a dream to own. He brought me a coffee and a croissant from his brother's coffee shop the next day to show his gratitude, mentioning it wasn't too far either.

Suddenly I'm visiting the cafe the next day, waking up early to have time before opening up shop. Almost die trying to order, because Lucifer did not mention his brother was hot. Successfully get my hands on another croissant, and a sandwich that was recommended. I don't visit every day, but when I do, it's always at the same time. Mammon grumbled something about trying to have my order ready before I got there, only for me to not show up some days. "N-Not that it means anything! I'm just tryin' to be more efficient!" "Well, I'm sorry I don't always wake up early! Getting out of bed is hard. If I had your number, I'd text you saying I was on my way, y'know?" "Y-YOU'RE ASKING FOR MY NUMBER?" "WAIT WHAT, N-NO, I MEAN- well.. actually, that wouldn't be... so bad? F-FORGET I SAID ANYTHING IF THAT'S WEIRD, UM, UH, SORRY, CAN I PAY NOW?" "... It's on the house. And uh, look inside the cup sleeve whenever you leave."

HELP I NEVER MEAN FOR MY ASKS TO GET THIS LONG, I JUST CAN'T STOP RAMBLING. The fact this isn't even everything, this is just the backstory. The lore, if you will. There is a plot !! Everything is connected.

- ✨ anon

✨ anon, tell me you're writing this story. This sounds exactly like what I do when I'm brainstorming a story before I write it.

And it's so good!!! I love every part of this!! I mean, okay, you don't have to write it if you don't want to obviously lol but I think it'd turn out really good if you did!!

I mean, you have fully converted me to the solomams train now, I'm so invested!!

I love Lucifer's role in all this and I LOVE that you work at the record shop down the street!!

Definitely living for the poly vibes, I wanna see what happens when you and Solomon show up at the same time. Poor Mammon might just have a whole heart attack about it!

Anyway, I love this. Please feel free to tell me more. I love coffee shop AUs so so much.

#what is it about coffee shops huh?#I can't explain it but I'm all about it #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #✨ anon #misc answers

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kyo-kitai-san · 8 months

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*hurls my second AM design into the ihnmaims tag*

so i finally decided to post my other, more au!AM design i suppose. one thing that stuck out to me in the story was how downright childish AM could be at times or depending on interpretation (i mean, snickering at the survivors having sex? throwing a tantrum over ted murdering his other toys and Slugging him for it?) so thats how we got here. (details on the design under the cut)

this is mostly what I imagine AM would have looked like had the military decided to make an android form for him. (ft. some self-indulgent twinkfication. i'm kind of projecting here. its no coincidence he has my haircut.)

i have lore justified it all though-- I imagine the military intended initially to make him more… I guess ‘traditionally masculine’ (this was the cold war, after all). but after some prototyping and tests, they ‘scaled things down’ for a few reasons:

Safety: this was really the primary reason. who wants an android with that much ‘killing data’ and the capacity to act on it? of course, that safety would later be undermined by AM being wired into all those massive systems giving him control over everything… but hey, they tried?

Showing off: of course, showing off an android that screams power and ‘american masculinity’ is great, but what’s better!! showing off how delicate and small you can make your machinery! how intricate and powerful it can be even in such a small size! (AM does not appreciate all this ‘delicate’ talk at all, by the way, thank you very much…)

and, yes, i know… the “white twinkification”… to me, I can't picture a group of american military men in the late 1940s making their special little boy anything but white as white bread. propaganda poster looking ass.

As for his exposed machine parts, I picked the ‘wheres’ very specifically, based on the idea of mechanical limitations:

Hands: very finicky, very articulated parts. Not the easiest to cover smoothly in whatever synthetic material they picked for skin. After lots of fiddling and ending up with ‘skin’ being torn or stuck in between parts, they’ve just left the hands uncovered until they can figure out a fix.

Lower jaw: from my observations, the mouth always seems to be the ‘weird part’ to me on video game characters or irl robots– something about it just rings uncanny. Obscuring that part or making it not so ‘human’ seems to help though, so i imagine a similar purpose here— on top of using it as a blinding signal that he’s not human. Don’t want him sneaking out somehow…

feel free to ask questions or otherwise talk to me about him! i always have brainrot over AM...

#i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims am #am i have no mouth and i must scream #hes my darling awful brat supercomputer. insufferable #ihnmaims

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shepard-ram · 2 years

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The Creeper and The Creeper Whisperer [Docm77 x Reader]

Fluff, Request: Doesn’t have to b a req if u don’t want but imagine doc x a reader who is like somehow really friendly to hostile mobs and despite not being a creeper hybrid they are really chill w creepers and stop ppl from killing them and stuff and he’s like “oh em gosh??? Someone who doesn’t hate my kind???” Or sum

This may not 100% fit what you asked but I adore the idea of reader just being a creeper magnet and somehow cuddling up with the things completely safely so I kind of went with those vibes rather than a normal dude who just doesn't kill them. Sorry if that's not what you wanted but brainrot be rotting the brain

Tw. Death mention? Once I think, nothing happens (especially bc respawn mechanics are a thing) but the boom booms are dangerous and that is pointed out. Also sorry if this a bit directionless but I just wanted to get something out.

--------------------

You were a funny little phenomenon. On most fronts you were a fairly average person. Your skills in both architecture and redstone were much more than praise worthy, but other than that you didn't have much to you at first glance. Except for one interesting quirk.

Creepers were universally recognized and feared bundles of eventual destruction. The cause of many lost lives, items, and chunks of wall. Yet, you adored the walking bombs.

It's a mystery why they were so passive towards you, but it felt like every single one returned your feelings. Your life from childhood was dotted with the unusual memories of them being unusually friendly. From feeding those still left from the previous night to patching up the scratched up ones you'd find in the forest or while mining. You were kind to them and they never posed a threat to you.

You had a similarly symbiotic relationship with other hostile creatures, but it wasn't exactly the same. It was only creepers that actually bonded over to you with (metaphoricaly) open arms, but you would still take care of a stray enderman or skeleton if you came across one.

That's probably why you ran a mob sanctuary out of your base. It was your first season with the hermits, and to be frank- you were overwhelmed as all hell. They were a fun lot and you knew your skills could stand their own here. However, between all the acclimating, socializing, manual labor you've been pulling your mind and body were left in desperate need of some less physically and mentally strenuous work.

The sanctuary was your pride and joy. You had a wealth of knowledge on how to care for all of them and the means to give them a place to stay to match.

It was practically a massive zoo enclosure, walls made to look as natural as possible, shallow artificial rivers, trees you had built yourself, all completed with a faux cave area harder to reach and nearly impossible to see from the outskirts of the area.

Whenever your current projects got too taxing, or you happened to stumble across an injured mob, you would spend days at a time looking after the ever-revolving cast of inhabitants of the sanctuary. Some you planed to keep, (mostly the weaker and/or younger creepers who especially imprinted on you) others you set free once they were sufficiently healthy.

It was a place of peace for you as much as they were for your patients. You welcomed the other hermits to visit when they showed interest. On the condition that they don't hurt any of the mobs. Predictably, when they realized 70% of the population was creepers not many were keen on the offer. It didn't bother you too much, more alone time for you this way.

Doc was one of the first to actually except. In hindsight you shouldn't have been all that surprised that he wouldn't have to worry about all your explosives roaming about. Yet in all your creeper based experiences you haven't met a hybrid before him.

Not that you knew it, but he found you far more fascinating than you found him. A couple of the other hermits suggested he spend some time with you after they payed you their own visits. Always with some look in their eyes that blended amusement, curiosity, and scheming. When you explained your little side business he understood it.

You both were able to find humor in the situation, breaking the ice with jokes of losing him in the crowd and other stupid things of the like. Once that phase had passed you suggested that you sit down and eat the lunch you brought into the sanctuary.

After you both finished eating neither of you moved or talked, silently agreeing to relax a little while longer. He noticed that there was something that felt... just fundamentally correct about the moment. Like a comfortable stillness settled deep in his chest. And like a child running into a landed flock of pigeons, the feeling only fled the more he tried to grab hold.

Still, he attempted to pin it on something. Something. Perhaps like the person sitting a little ways out of arms reach from him. With a dreamy, far-off gaze as you watched the creatures living their lives in safety of your favorite project. As much as he didn't want to stare, the fact that he could see the very spell he was under a moment ago on your face was nearly as captivating as the peacefulness itself.

He found himself visiting you again and again after that day.

By with point you knew Doc enough to see the weight of many sleepless nights on him. You were familiar with his mad scientist shtick and how long and bright those overworking episodes burned.

You knew your probably magic connection to creepers was affecting him to some degree, but frankly you didn't care. If it got him to regularly sit down, eat, and take a nap then it was perfectly moral in your mind.

While you were in thay routine it felt like it could go on forever. It was nice and comfortable, yet it was really just the origin story of your relationship.

It just came naturally. You balanced each other out well. He even got you to loose couple nights of sleep to explain his redstone to you. You may or may not joke that you have since been cursed with "lovecraftian knowledge".

You lost track of when your "hangouts" became "dates" and when every nap consisted of a lot of cuddling. You wouldn't have it any other way, as cheesy as that would sound out loud. You didn't care, you were both happy. That's all either of you need.

#Shepard ram writes #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft x you #hermitcraft x y/n #docm77 x reader #doc x reader #c: doc #tw. death mention

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mako-neexu · 1 year

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Aahh you read Death is the only ending for the villainess too!! I love the story and the artist's fate fanart they've done. Callisto actually resembles Gilgamesh to me sometimes though that just might be the coloring. However, an Obeguda death is the only ending au 👀👀...

SERIOUSLY!!!! I thought at first: "Why is Ou-sama here!?!?!?" XD wwwww But he's the best!!! Callisto is the best male lead ever!!!! I read the manhwa a few months ago but I just got back to it now and I have brainrot over it wwww

I loved your idea so I made mini fic!! TvT

I would have loved for Hakuno x Gil death is the only ending AU, but I'm not familiar with her yet ehehe. But I did my best with Obeguda!! Thank you for ask!! I didn't know anon likes both fgo and maybe villainess manhwa 😂🥰

Also the mini fic ended in yakudou trio moment hahaha XDD

Ritsuka knew something was wrong the moment their highnesses had entered the ballroom.

It was the crown prince who had always occupied the emperor’s seat, if only by proxy as he was said to be sickly according to the novel…

She knew who would be sitting on that damned massive chair. But as soon as she saw Tristan and Baobhan Sith by Morgan’s side-

She had a terrible hunch about a certain someone’s reaction.

Of course, of course. They wouldn’t invite the likes of him to the crown princess’ birthday party. Still, Morgan and her children should have known by now that nothing ever good comes out of angering him.

She cringed at the thought and decided to stay away from one of the people who would one-hundred-percent guarantee her death.

As fate would have it, the doors slammed wide open, the loud bang causing screams of shock and confusion to spread throughout the room.

Baobhan’s shriek was one that ripped through all of the noise, “M-Mother–!!! H-He’s carrying a–!!”

“A corpse.”

The uninvited guest cheerfully spoke as the dull thud of the body was accompanied by a wet noise, “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of what happens to people at the end of their life, my little sister?”

Goddamnit, Oberon Vortigern!!!

While maintaining a fairy-tale like facade, he could easily kill someone with one hand, sword or not. The novel said that that wasn’t his “true” appearance per say, as he only revealed it to the real heroine of the story, Titania, when their relationship eventually progressed.

It was hard enough to get through his route in easy mode, but now that she was playing the role of a villainess?

It was practically impossible to make sure she gets at least ten percent on this cursed affection meter on top of their heads!

Still, she would have to find out if the reset button exists, her only hope of going back to her world.

After the bloodstained prince had said his piece towards the family sitting on the throne, a game notification appeared in place.

A new episode had begun: “The Prince of Liars and Fairies, Oberon Vortigern.”

Would you like to be teleported to the maze garden?

>[YES]

[NO]

Ritsuka half-wished her only friend in this world was right by her side.

Castoria!!! You were fucking right!!!! She should have just stayed in the forest with her instead of attending this stupid ball!! ARGHHHH!!!!

Nevertheless, she pressed on the [YES] button before the timer for it counted down ahead of her. Seriously, why even put a [NO] option? When she gets her hands on the being who thrusted her into this world…

Her next blink was the sight of the very garden itself that Titania had confessed her love to. And the very place Oberon swore to protect her.

Ritsuka had to admit that what she was doing was stupid… but she had to try for that reset button. To be able to get back home, to be able to survive in this messed up game.

—

“I connected shit.”

“No, you didn’t! Oh my god! For the hundredth time, it's because you were going to kill me back then!”

“Nope, nope. Lalalala~ I’m able to see lies~ You know that well by now!”

“Urgh, Castoria!!!!!”

The fairy could only snort and laugh at her two friends. She also didn’t think they would be able to genuinely fall in love with each other, but here they are, arguing already like an old married couple.

“Oi, oi, who are you calling an old married couple!?” The prince growled out, reaching out to painfully pinch her cheek- “H-Hey, that hurts! Isn’t that true though!? Gah!”

“It is not!” They simultaneously said, like an old married couple.

Ritsuka puffed her cheeks before crossing her arms, “As if you don’t act like one with the greatest blacksmith in the kingdom.”

The way her face immediately heated up as she stuttered caused her to internally scream while spewing out excuses, “W-What the!? Muramasa!? That boomer!? Are you serious, Ritsuka!? Psh, as if! He lectures me way too much! I really really hate it! I also hate how he g-g-g-gets rid of his shirt off whenever it's scorching hot. Fuck, I hate him! AAAAA-”

And Ritsuka’s laugh caused her to finally shut up. “Cas, I never said anything about Muramasa.”

“Weren’t you paying attention, tomboy?” Castoria didn’t miss the way her friend’s hand was entwined against Ritsuka’s own.

With Oberon’s tongue sticking out and a finger against his cheek to pull a mocking face at her, she grabbed onto her sword with a battle cry to destroy his ass for pushing her into a beauty contest with Knocknarea and Bageko from last month. Ugh, she should rob him too while she’s at it.

Ritsuka had to admit that her experiences here were nothing compared to what she usually witnessed back home…being the center of a reverse harem novel world of all things…but her goals have not yet changed.

She will still do her best to find a way back home even if the chances of finding it seems kinda bleak. But with moments like this, underneath the sunlight with two of the people she cherished the most, she finds that she could forget about those thoughts for a while and be at peace with them.

#ask #anon #obeguda #guda #oberon vortigern #but seriously!!! hakuno x gil death is the only ending would been great!!

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its-hai-time · 9 months

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hi i have had turnabout light brainrot for the past like 2 days but specifically about the concept of a soundtrack for it bc i am absolutely obsessed with video game osts so i am going to unload all my thoughts. i'd imagine the song for klavier's apartment is really empty and just doesn't have much going on. would fit how he is just. really alone there. also it's in c minor. idk i just think every depressing song in c minor sounds good. i don't know any other locations the case would include, but i'm still playing around with what klavier's jail cell theme might be. athena's is a music box version of her theme and trucy's is a slower/sadder remix of her's, so i've tried slowing down guilty love. unfortunately the music production team is amazing and it still sounds very peppy at .25 speed, and just doesn't fit the vibe at all. so i thought maybe it would instead be guitar's serenade or the gavinners • twilight gig. both are absolutely GORGEOUS themes that i would love to see reused, and both come from cases where he lost someone important to him (daryan went to jail and his law mentor died). even just incorporating elements of those songs into a different new theme created for the turnabout would give me psychic damage and make me pass away instantly from how happy i would be. an acoustic guitar with some reverb would fit extremely well too, and i'm always one for throwing mallet percussion into everything and anything, so i can see it having a marimba or vibraphone as well. additionally, given this isn't just an added case to another game and is rather a whole new game, apollo's theme would get an update like it does every game. 2013 had this beautiful electric guitar section, and 2016 had what i think is a synth solo that was absolutely amazing. i think it would be really cool if this version included the bell bits that were in the orchestra and 2013 versions of the theme!! also the 2013 version's ending is honestly my favorite of all time, so it would be neat if it included something similar to that. honestly even if you never listen to another theme from dual destinies PLEASE listen to apollo's theme it's so good i force everyone i meet to listen to it. i have so much more i could say but i'm just now realizing how long i've already made this so i'm gonna stop now. sorry i am a massive game music nerd and love your comic lol. super excited for part 13, but remember to take your time and not feel pressured to release it before you think it's ready.

the thought that someone can have actual brainrot for my work is amazing aaaaah. Anyways I'm LOVING these music ideas, especially for Klavier's apartment, you'd expect it to be pretty over the top for the rock star himself; but he really doesn't live in his apartment that much, it's kind of a lonely place when you look around at it. A slower, understated score fits much better to show how empty the place is. Anyways I've never played past aa4 so I'll be checking out those apollo themes soon I guess lol.

anon if you wanna message me with your musical score brainrot I'm literally so open. I always love opportunities to talk about the game au as a whole rather than just the one case everyone knows.

#anon you're literally so sweet aaaah #dw part 13 is in the works!#hailey answers

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

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as another timeloop lover, who'd you put through that, if you felt so inclined?

personally, i like the idea of either Bdubs (as a nod to the Time King bit) or perhaps Joel. they'd both play the tragic role so well, i think, beneath the fool veneer

forever doomed to repeat misery they cannot escape; and forever cursed to bear it with denial, ignorance, and a smile too tight

so this depends on my mood and which of my thoughts I’m thinking about the time loop thing. however joel is SUCH a big-brained option. i think it takes him a week of the same day to acknowledge what’s happening. i think to him the day he’s repeating is a normal day if it weren’t for the weird part at the end and everyone else acting like something’s wrong. and then bit by bit, he’s forced to acknowledge it’s real. the wall of “magic isn’t real and i’m the most amazing person” has to get peeled away but by bit. he gets desperate. he starts bargaining. he just wants everyone to make it through the day. and the worst part is, everyone who isn’t lizzie and jimmy is just like “I guess he just got weirder” even as he visibly breaks down, because of course they do, of course, he doesn’t bother acting like he knows anyone but his family, they WOULDN’T know this is a joel on the brink of breaking, over and over again—

listen now i have brainrot. the idea here is “joel timeloops either a bad end where xonorth wins or empires’s actual bad end” god you’re SO big-brained.

anyway the other ones I rotate are:

joe hills. not just because he’s my guy but because he already has a groundhog day reference in his stream, and because i think you could get the right vibes for this from super hostile. i think he’d try and try again, and fail and fail again, and slowly manage to claw his way to victory while railing against god, and it would be good.

at one point i almost wrote “ren and doc get stuck in a time loop when the hermatrix breaks and have to break it from the inside”, at least in part because i wanted to give doc a breakdown, lol. the idea was that they had to speedrun all the hermatrix clues in their short one-day loops and then had to speedrun building this massive redstone contraption that would have let ren run arbitrary code on the universe to fix it. i ditched this only because i had trouble working this with how the actual hermatrix plot ended up working. a big thing with them would have ended up being “the two of them work against the clock, as the day resets at the same time every day and the things they have to do eventually barely are doable in twenty-four hours”

i think pearl would make a good time traveler in general. i think pearl is the comedy time traveler option actually; i think she’d still have her moments of horrible existential dread and despair, but i think she’d use being in a time loop to do Whatever She Wants in order to keep her spirits up and also because she can. that’s always a fun one to mess with.

#answered #just… time loops…. good.#time loop joel

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scribbling-dragon · 2 years

Text

okay, so, i was thinking about my vigilante au again, but for s2 of empires instead. bc i’ve accepted that i won’t ever write a longfic for the original au, and i probably won’t for this either

so! delving into my thoughts:

it would occur in a similar setting, with the characters attending a sixth-form college (which i’ve got a name for!) while also being vigilantes on the side (because the name “vigilante au” didn’t give that away at all)

- we’ve got jimmy, who would probably be the main focus of this au if i did ever write something (sorry scott, jimmy brainrot is big rn), and he’d be a moobloom hybrid, i feel, just to change it up slightly from my other s2 projects. i’m not sure what type of moobloom he’d be yet, but he’d probably be some kind of flower that can survive well in a hot climate

- anyway! i feel like he’d be doing some kind of environmental science based stuff, or stuff to work towards that (not at all projecting. nope) which means he’d probably be doing geography, chemistry and biology.

- with the kind of power he has, i’m torn between some kind of plant based power (which he could have a small hint of anyway? being a moobloom and all?) or some kind of earth based power (like terrakinesis, because he could do a bunch of cool stuff with that, i reckon)

- his vigilante name would just be the Sheriff. the local police hate him, because he runs around in his dumb outfit with his stupid bandit “friend” (you know i had to do it) and they’re doing their jobs for them smh

- he definitely has a rivalry with Electrostatic (idk, messing around with names for joel’s vigilante persona??), who is someone that has lightning based powers, and seems to find some kind of amusement in tormenting him.

- he has a complicated relationship with the Protector (sausage) because the Protector is technically his ally, but he is also technically Electrostatic’s ally as well.

- on the other hand, sausage and joel are friends, who both help out with tutoring a few kids, one of whom them share: Hermes! yeah, he’s in this au. they try and outdo each other with the prizes they give their students, because Hermes always boasts to the other students about what the other one gave him when he was good, so they’ve obviously gotta do better than the other tutor

- scott seems like he’d be going for some kind of plant based power (which is why i didnt want jimmy to grab that) and he would definitely use it to get a bunch of rare dyes. i feel like he’d take textiles and art, at the very least, maybe maths to go with it idk (he gives off art teacher vibes this season ngl)

- i feel like katherine would have some kind of luck based power, in which she can manipulate the probability of events happening, and this would be really really good if she could fully understand how it works and stop losing her focus with it and causing her pen to explode in the middle of class.

- i feel like gem would be some kind of governor’s daughter, and they’re really protective over her, telling her constantly how she needs to be careful because she could get hurt. so as a massive fuck you to her parents she goes out as the Dawn Princess in the late hours of the evening and beats up criminals. for funsies

- (also the bandit friend is 100% tango, you knew i had to add him) other characters will be from the life series/hermitcraft too! i gotta add my other blorbos in :]

those are the ideas i’ve had for now, but feel free to send in asks for this au :D

#(that is a plea for asks)#i just wanna talk about this au #juno's vigilante au #juno's vigilante au: electric boogaloo #<- the tag for the s2 au #empires smp #empires smp s2 #jimmy solidarity #smallishbeans #mythical sausage #i know i havent mentioned some of the other characters. but thats because i havent really thought about them yet

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dying-acc-idk-man · 2 years

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Well now that I have an okay to share my brainworms!! [Tbh they're less theories and more like headcanons at this point but if you're willin' to read 'em]

I haven't gotten all of the watcher/listener lore down [I still need catch up more on the Evo context] but atm I like the concept of him being turned into a watcher/listener except his being turned into a watcher/listener was moreso a means of holding power over his head and to have more range of control over bullying the man with his own death as per his typical recklessness, clumsiness, and overall habit of dying fast. He has always been their canary to sing in their coalmines till the fumes silence him, however proper canary features didn't develop [I like to think of a contrast between he and Grian being that Grian was originally a watcher so his appearance is more properly avian meanwhile Jimmy only gets /clipped or mostly flightless/ wings and extra feathers-- like the difference between an elytrian flight and avian slow falling in the origins mod, a born avian vs a made avian] until when he went red in 3rd life since that was basically when the canary curse of the life series became locked in [He can control whether or not he has those features in other servers, but in the life series or general hardcore servers he can't put them away] His being a turned watcher/listener is what makes his death consequential beyond being the first to die: all the worst chaos beginning directly after his death directly ties into abilities he can't tap into himself as per the other watchers/listeners blocking him from the very power they gave him to turn him into a watcher/listener. I also like watcher/listener Jimmy because then he can go god competent op mode and honestly Jimmy deserves to go god competent op mode and like paired with my hc of him not even being fully aware of his powers or the extent of them, it creates these accidental god mode moments like say if he saw someone falling from to their death he'd just like go Oh Shit I Need To Do Something and then he Does by going god mode and swooping in with massive ass pheonix-esque wings and like once they're both safely on the ground it all dissapears and he was so caught up in the moment he didn't even realize and he was like "Damn how lucky!! I must've broke our fall!!" MEANWHILE THE PERSON THAT JUST WITNESSED GODMODE WATCHER JIMMY JUST IS IN UTTER DISBELIEF THAT HE DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE??? THAT HE DID THAT???? Even better, he finds out about his god mode appearance and abilities But He Still Can't Activate It Himself so when something like that situation happens again and someone says something he just goes "hAaah yeah, that just like,,, happens sometimes,,, I don't control it ^v^;;" hrhrhrhrhrjfurj ALSO imagining watchers having like this uniform that includes a boob window for like a chest eye rather than boobs and yes that is an excuse for me to draw Watcher!OP!God Mode!Jimmy in a fancy cloak and gown with a boob window and I will stand by Jimmy boob propaganda till the day I die

But yesyes, these are my brainworms, thank ye for takin' 'em [I may or may not come back with more stuff like this purely because I have too many thoughts in my brain and little to no outlet so it helps to scream it into a void where it may or may not get acknowledged] -- Think of me like a messenger pigeon but instead of bringing messages I just carry brainrot to anyone that is willing to listen :> and may you find an interesting rock sometime soon •🕊

i missed when tumblr asks had a limit i woke up to this long thing

i mean its not bad but jeez louis this was so much to read for me aachhchfjx

but your idea is vvery interesting, but it seems i will be having my own interp then since im not that into your idea (well to say, im not into working with the same idea) but yours is rly good! i liked that a lot

#long post #sorry if i sound neg its 9 am rn KSKXKXKX

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years

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okay so idk if other countries have this or not but basically at train stations and stuff there’s normally a “kiss & drop” 15min waiting area where someone can drive up a bit closer to the platform and drop off/pick up someone else and over the last few years they’ve changed them to be called “kiss & ride” and I’ve been taking the train 3x a week for years and for some fucking reason last night I was like in bed and my brain did two things for the first time:

conjured up an Entire Scenario where person A (PA) is picking up person B (PB) after a long college/work in the city and PB has just had a DAY (derogatory) and is grumpy and bratty and upset and PA is all smiles and ‘yay it’s the weekend!’ and so when PB gets in the car it’s a literal “Kiss And Ride” as in ‘i don’t wanna fucking talk I want ur dick’ and PA is all ‘babe, babe, we’re 10 mins from home’ and ‘we’re gonna get picked up for publi—oh’ PB is ‘i don’t want to wait and idgaf what you say’ (#bratnation)

my brain absentmindedly made this evanstan for the first time ever and I REALLY THOUGHT I was gonna be able to keep myself away from RPF but…..y’all gave me the brainrot :/

((guess whom i’m imagining as PA? guess whom i’m imagining as PB? does it have anything to do with the fact that I started The Golf “Drabble” just before sleeping last night? I guess we’ll never know))

(aforementioned golf drabble here)

I can't say the US [derogatory], or at least the part I am in of the US, has that exact thing/has it and calls it a kiss and drop but that sounds very cute. And not just cute based on the scenario you just laid out 👀

I love that idea though! And it definitely makes sense as an RPF prompt because Chris and Seb certainly are always in different places, always then getting back together and, y’know, celebrating when they can finally get their hands on each other again, I mean what, see each other face-to-face again. (Also yes yes yes *rubs hands together* spreading the evanstan brainrot)

With the golf drabble in mind though...

I can imagine Sebastian having A Shit™️ Day at college only to collapse into Chris' expensive sports car at the kiss and ride; sighing at first, simply relieved to be removed from the real world and placed into his sugar daddy's (and boyfriend's) world. However...

He looks over and godfuckingdammit-

He didn't mean to get in the car and instantly lean over and start pawing at his lap, needing to get his mouth on that dick but what the fuck?

Why the fuck is his sugar daddy, his business suit and proper mannered, raised with butlers and private tutors boyfriend dressed like, like-?

A goddamn frat boy.

And why is it turning him on? He was just fuming after getting back from college - receiving a bad grade for a nonsensical reasons yet still feeling stupid as a result of the low score - and excited for the long, low-key holiday weekend and now-? Why is he suddenly thirsty for someone he could (in theory) see at school? 😫

What? Why?

Daddy's all smiley too, asking him, "y'excited for for the weekend, sweetheart? Y'ready to get goin'?"

And Sebastian doesn't even-

He didn't remember he agreed to go on a short road trip this weekend to one of Daddy's luxury cabins away from the city and now that he does... he doesn't even really want to. He wants to go home, suck Daddy's dick while he sips on his beer in front of the massive flatscreen TV, watching some football game highlights, then once Daddy’s cum down his throat and Seb has rutted a needy, good orgasm out against Daddy's shin crash in Daddy's unfairly comfortable bed. The best fucking memory foam that money can by. King size, making ultimate star-fishing possible. The mattress neverending and squishy and easily conforming around his body with the softest, nicest smelling sheets.

He doesn't want to drive for hours, bored and stewing in his own negative thoughts.

He didn't even get to pack his own clothes and he know Daddy did for him but... while normally he revels in seeing what Daddy bought him- what pretty things he bought and then packed for him (or more realistically, had one of his assistants pack on his request), today he wishes he could have packed his own clothes. Made his own decisions. Yet. He also just wants to dress up in whatever Daddy brought him and be told how stunning he looks and never see anyone else ever again. Just Daddy.

Ugh.

His brain is split into two.

😫

Sebastian is so caught up in his own mood™️ that he doesn't even register what falls out of his mouth until it's echoing back into his ears through the small space of the car, "the only place I wanna go is in your pants."

At first, Daddy laughs at his thoughtless pickup line. But when Sebastian leans across the center console before he's even pulled away from the kiss and ride, his hands finding their way to Chris' favorite red belt, Daddy suddenly has qualms about it, "Seb!" he squawks, trying to actually tell him not to when they clearly could get caught but still caught by surprise, half laughing.

Sebastian looks up, trying to give Chris his best, what? I'm innocent! puppy dog eyes as he looks rapidly between Sebastian and the road. And after a moment of contemplation, Seb settles on digging his hole deeper, whining, "I want your dick, Daddy."

"Not now."

"Why not?"

"If you wait until we're out of the city limits, I'll find somewhere to pull off and fuck you in the backseat, 'kay, sugar?"

"No, Daddy, I want your dick noww," he knows he's whining. And he knows he's being difficult. But... for some reason, he can't stop himself. Even if, yes, being fucked sounds like a good way to get his frustration out of his system. Better than a dick down his throat, forcing him to only focus on the feeling and taste of Daddy.

"Not now," Chris says again.

Sebastian ignores him, leaning over enough to mouth hungrily at him through his pants.

Daddy pulls his hair to get him to quit, pulling with enough conviction that Sebastian has to arch his neck and follow him up. Sitting up.

"Ow! Daddy!" He pouts. It doesn't really hurt. He's being dramatic.

"Sebastian-"

"Just want your dick now," he's really pouting now. Pushing out his lower lip and everything, "'lease?"

"I said no, I don't want to be charged for public indecency. You know what that'd do to my reputation."

Sebastian shudders, remembering how much of a big, popular, powerful man Daddy is before he huffs, crossing his arms and finally sitting straight up; acting more pissed than he feels. He turns and looks out the side window, arms crossed over his chest.

"God," Chris says under his breath, perfectly loud enough for Sebastian to barely hear, "you're spoiled," but Sebastian can hear him. And he can hear his smirk. It frustrates him more. The slight slight sting of tears rise in his eyes, so he squeezes them shut, he won't cry for not getting dick. He won't cry over a bad grade, he's not a middle schooler.

"You spoiled me, so it's your fault if you don't like how I act," he retorts back, feeling a little pathetic as he does the equivalent of sticking his tongue out at the other, older man.

Chris doesn't take his bate. He just reaches over and places a hand over the back of Sebastian's neck, holding then squeezing him there. Seb, despite his best efforts to cling to his bratty mood, deflates under the touch. "I might've spoiled you," Daddy reminds him, "but you're still easy. C'mon now, sugar, what's gotten into you? Tough day? You need some attention? Tell Daddy what's wrong."

Sebastian turns away farther, tears prickling in his eyes for different reasons now. Daddy cares about him...

Daddy squeezes his neck again, scruffing him in such a way that makes him sigh and go boneless.

Daddy's hand drops from his neck to his lap when he feels Seb's tension leave him. Driving one handed. "You tell Daddy what's wrong and you can have an orgasm. If not... I'm sure I'll be tired from driving when we get to the cabin. And tomorrow I can fill the whole day with activities... jus' 'cause we're alone all weekend doesn't mean Daddy's gonna fuck you all weekend. You don't wanna have Daddy all to yourself, all his attention on you and not work, and waste it, do you? You said you wanted dick, baby. Daddy doesn't have to give you any dick at all, y’know."

Sebastian feels his bottom lip tremble. Rapidly cracking he shifts to sit normally in his seat, looking ahead. Not twisted around. "Dunno," he sniffs.

"You don't know what's gotten into you?"

"No."

"Tsk tsk," he starts to remove his hand from where it was rubbing his thigh. Up and down. Up and down.

"No!"

"What, baby? You know. Tell Daddy. Be a good boy."

His cheeks burn. "I- I," he really doesn't want to go an entire three days without Daddy’s dick in his hand or mouth or cunt. "I don't know. Just... I don't know. I just feel bad."

"Bad like sick?"

"No. Jus'-" he pauses, whining, "I don't know. School sucks."

"Mmm-hmm."

"School sucks and there's this stupid fucking professor and he gave me a shit grade when I didn't deserve it. I worked so hard on that paper and I don't even think he read it all the way through. I knew he wouldn't like my view point because he's fucking like that. He only wants you to spit back his own opinions to him. He doesn't want you to think for yourself. And I thought. I thought really hard! I thought my argument was smart and good and- I dunno know! A good argument! But it wasn't his side so... he graded me down," he rants, hardly stopping to breathe.

"Aw, I'm sorry, baby," Daddy says, meaning it wholeheartedly. Empathizing with him while also pressing his hand against his (so far) soft dick. Massaging his dick with the heel of his hand. "I never liked school and I especially never liked professors or teachers like that. Shouldn't be teachers," he clicks his tongue, "they aren't encouraging learning, they're encouraging thoughtless robots. They don't listen either. It's fuckin' bad teaching."

Sebastian feels his dick start to fatten up further, swelling as his heart thumps thumps thumps, feelings vindicated that Chris agrees as well as horny. He can't help it. Daddy starts touching him and... yeah. He's easy. He always falls apart. So easy.

#asks #chris evans #sebastian stan #rpf #real person fanfiction #evanstan #fandomfluffandfuck

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 2 years

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You KNOW i'm here to ask about Cat 📝👀 🥵🧠👀👂😍💘🦴💞🔥💐

You've really got the brainrot, huh? Honestly, same.

Anyways! Let's get these answered, under a cut cause it's gonna be beefy. And if anyone wants to ask more, here's the questions!

🥵 : Is your OC perceived as physically attractive to others? Is it at first glance or is it something that takes more time to reach fruition? It's kinda 50/50. She's 6'8, roughly 300 lbs of muscle, scar tissue, and friendliness. Not everyone's into big and there's plenty of folks who are happy to make that her problem I'm not projecting, but for the folks who do like that sort of thing, she's a dream come true. Isn't she, hon? 😏

🧠 : What is your OC’s most mentally attractive attribute? Her openness, I'd say. Very free with compliments, happy to chat with a stranger about whatever, naturally kind and friendly, quick to offer her help and her trust, etc. She wears her heart on her sleeve regardless of how many times it gets torn off and stomped into the dirt and just radiates Friend Energy.

👀 : Does your OC believe they are attractive? Do they use that to their advantage? That's... a complicated question. She's personally very happy with her body, likes how it looks and what she's capable of, is happy with her vibrant, meticulously matched hair and lipstick and haphazardly smudged-on eyeshadow, but given her experiences with other people and choices she made with her transition, she doesn't believe she's particularly attractive to anyone else. And no, partly because you can't use what you don't know you have, and partly because she's not inclined to take advantage of anything really.

👂 : Does your OC have an attractive voice? I don't know how to describe it, but short answer, I'd definitely say so. In my head she sounds like Natasha Lyonne. Between that and her main real life reference being Natasha Aughey, she's got a lot of Natashas in her influence.

😍 : What does your OC find irresistible in others? Kindness. Not necessarily on the level she gives, and not necessarily niceness. In fact, she's a sucker for someone who's kind, but also a massive bitch about it. Someone who can draw a line and enforce a boundary better than she can. The ability to see past what she does, to why she does it? If they understand she's what she is by choice and that nice doesn't always equal happy, on top of being right there next to her to help someone who needs it but also more than willing to get catty at the ones who are dicks about it, she's probably already smitten. Also, strong legs and pretty eyes.

💘 : Is your OC a very good flirt? Are they charming? A good flirt? Not fuckin' remotely, at least not on purpose. She's definitely charming though, especially when she's not thinking about it. Very free and easy with affection and touch; hugs, holding hands, casual arm around a shoulder, sat next to someone and leaning on them while they're each doing they're own thing, etc. Good listener even if she has no idea what people are talking about, friendly and honest, always willing to help and forgive, etc. She's had a fair few secret admirers (in part only secret because she's dense as hell) because of it.

🦴 : Does your OC have much sexual experience? What are they like? Not remotely. She's kissed a few people, sure, but not many. Had a serious relationship with a girl back home that... didn't end well. They got to the clothes-finally-coming-off part of things and she kinda flipped out at Cat being trans and not telling her (because Cat didn't really realize the specifics of what was in her underwear was gonna be such a big deal). Then-girlfriend said a lot of not-so-kind things all at once and then never said anything to her again after storming off. She hasn't really trusted anyone to get that close since. As for what she'd be like, after getting over the initial nerves and getting some experience under her belt (heh), she's enthusiastic. Swings between fast and eager enough to forget her own considerable strength, or slow and careful, bordering on full on worship like she's trying to memorize her partner. And if someone else wants to take the lead and give orders, she's more than happy to benefit from their experience.

💞 : Do they treat sex casually or do they view it as something with a lot of emotional weight? It's not full-on "Only With The One" levels of serious, but there's definitely some weight there. Again, given her experiences, her lack of experience, and her, uh, choice of equipment when she had her magic-fueled transition, there has to be at least some level of genuine trust there. It doesn't have to be True Love or whatever, but it's gotta mean something, even if it's just "hey, you're my friend who's had my back in all these other things, I know you won't hurt me here either."

🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered? What isn't??? If it's overt enough to get through to her that someone isn't Just Being Nice, she's gonna turn pink and forget half the words she knows. She's not used to any kind of romantic gestures; whether it's gifts, dates, or just being made to feel pretty, she's hopeless. And again, anyone who bothers to look past the smiles and apparent naivete to see the sheer amount of work she puts into choosing to be kind, that heart is no longer being worn on her sleeve, it is in their pocket now and let's hope they take care of it.

💐 : What is their courting style? How would they woo someone? She's not really one to do the pursuing, partly because by the time she's noticed that someone's interested, it's because they beat her over the head with it. If she likes someone enough to get over the crippling depression and self worth issues Make A Move, it's very nervous, kinda overthinking, Sticking To The Basics. Flowers, gifts, maybe ask them to dinner, all in that awkward, endearingly clumsy way she does anything she thinks too hard about. Might miss the mark trying to Stick To The Rules of courting rather than actually remembering what the person likes, and may have to be reminded to relax a few times, but her heart's in the right place and she's doing her best.

#answers to questions y'all actually asked #my ocs #cat noble #although in these iterations it's gonna be cat jameson #ask meme #kade

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