#inferior flames

[bittenbyyou]

Inferior Flames (1)

MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn, lil cute moments

description: Your father wants you to knock Peter down a peg. OR Peter is bitter because you’re an Avenger and he’s not.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: Tony Stark being your father is already a warning as to how ridiculous he could be lol, mentions of Spider-Man: Homecoming, references from Captain America: Civil War, idk where this would fit in the MCU timeline per se b/c I’ve only recently started watching all the Marvel movies. 

a/n: maybe it’ll be a series? idk, if you like it, lemme know!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Firefly, I need a favor.” Your father plopped onto the couch next to you, so you paused your show with the TV remote.

“What is it?” you asked, turning your body to give him your undivided attention.

“You know Spiderling, Spider-Boy?”

“Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Yes. How do you still not know his name?”

“My names are better.”

“Uh huh. Wait, he’s the one that rejected your proposal to become an Avenger.” You nudged him with your elbow, flashing a smirk.

“No, no. I don’t do rejection.”

“But he did turn you down.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate his frustration. “Sure. Whatever. Anyway, the kid wants to be an Avenger now. Been texting Happy nonstop about when’s the next mission and he’s wanting to see me tomorrow.”

You blinked twice and stayed quiet, a blank stare on your face as to why this was an issue. When he didn’t say anything, you gestured for him to elaborate.

“I don’t think he’s ready,” he added, crossing one arm over the other.

“You’re serious? Dad, you’ve never shut up about him ever since you gave him the suit. Even when I was abroad, I’ve seen what he can do. He’s amazing. You wanted him to be an Avenger.”

“I’m aware. But he said no and now… the ball is in my court.” The shit-eating grin on his face was soon replaced with a chuckle that sounded almost sinister.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, he turned me down and now he wants me back. God, I’m making him sound like an ex-girlfriend.” He shivered in disgust and you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I get to turn him down now. It’s great.”

“So you’re turning him down because he turned you down first. Petty much?”

“Hey, that is not what’s going on here.” He turned his attention to the paused TV screen instead of meeting your judgmental gaze.

“Dad, that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re really letting your pride stop you from recruiting someone as amazing as Spider-Man? Let Peter join.”

“What, are you in love with him or something? You think he’s so amazing?” he asked while doing jazz hands at the word “amazing.”

You wouldn’t call it love; it was more along the lines of admiration. During your time abroad, your father filled you in on all his adventures and antics so if anything, it was his fault as to why you were somewhat enamored with Spider-Man. Deep down, you knew your father adored Peter, so it was only natural you did too.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“You can’t date anyone until you’re 21.”

“I’m telling Mom you’re being ridiculous.”

“I already told your mom and we’ve already established that I’m ridiculous,” he said proudly, as if it was a badge of honor.

“You told me you were proud of his decision to lay low.”

“I am. I was. But now the tables have turned and what kind of person would I be if I let him in so easily? The others think I’m crazy recruiting a 15 year old.”

“16 now actually,” you corrected.

“God, this is like deja-vu.”

You giggled. “I’m the same age as him and you’ve been wanting me to join too.”

“Don’t remind me. You were the first person to ever turn me down and I’m still recovering. I’m waiting for you to crawl back and beg me, saying ‘Dad, please! Let me be an Avenger!’ Like the kid is doing now,” he said, using a high-pitched voice when he was imitating you.

“Good luck with that. I have no interest in being an Avenger.”

“See,” he said, pointing his index finger at you, “that right there is why I need your help.”

You crossed your arms in the same way he did, skeptical of where he was going with this. “Go on.”

“I want you to pretend to be another recruit who wants to be an Avenger. I’ll tell him there’s only one position and make him work for it.”

“Dad…” you said sternly.

“What? He doesn’t know you’re my daughter. And I’m trying to protect him too. The kid’s been going off doing things on his own and not thinking clearly. He can wait on becoming an Avenger.”

“He stopped Vulture. He kept looking for those weapons when no one else would.”

“He’s reckless.”

“You’re using me to make him jealous.”

“A little,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also looking out for him.”

“Uh huh.”

“He’s coming here tomorrow and I want you to battle him. If he beats you, he’ll get to join.”

“This is so stupid.”

“It’s genius, really.”

“You’re making a kid fight for something that you already want to give him.”

“No. Not yet.”

“You know he can’t beat me.”

Your father leaned in and pecked you on the forehead. “Exactly. Him losing will help him work harder to be better. This’ll give him that push he really needs. So will you help me?”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to fight Peter Parker and make sure he loses just so he doesn’t get to become an Avenger even though deep down, you want him to be one?”

“Precisely.”

“That’s the stupidest idea ever. And it’ll hurt his feelings.”

“No, it’ll build character. He needs to understand it’s not that simple. You can’t ask to become an Avenger and get it.”

“... But he can… because that’s what you wanted in the first place.”

“He turned me down so it’s only fair that he proves to me how much he wants it. Like a test. I’m testing him.”

“No. Dad, I’m not doing that.”

“I’ll enroll you in school right now instead of waiting for the following year.”

You sighed, contemplating his ridiculous proposition. He had adopted you when you were 10 on one of his missions overseas and has kept you a secret from the public. As much as it pained him, he could not bring you home right away because you required guidance on using your powers responsibly. You had to remain abroad for a while longer until the adoption forms went through and your mentors felt you were ready to leave the tiny village where you resided.

However, he and his wife Pepper, kept in touch and always checked in. He showed up every birthday and made it his mission to be a part of your life. Now that you were in high school and your powers were restored, he flew you into New York City right away.

It’s been a few months since your transition and you absolutely loved it. The Avengers who resided in the compound were very welcoming and so far, they were the only ones who knew of your existence along with your mom. Your father had yet to announce your identity to the world because he didn’t want the spotlight to overwhelm you. Originally he planned on having you relax a bit and then enroll you in public school next year, but going earlier was enticing to you.

“... Which school?”

“Spider-Man’s.”

“... Fine.”

“You do have a crush on him.”

“Shut up, Dad.”

The next day…

Upon entering the foyer of the Avengers Compound, Happy led Peter to where Stark was. The man stood in the middle of the main entrance hall, sporting a classy suit and sunglasses. Peter clenched his fists in determination, carefully reciting the words he wanted to say in his head since the car ride over.

“Hey kid. What do you want?”

“Mr. Stark,” he squeaked. He shut his eyes in humiliation, clearing his throat and lowering his voice a bit to sound more confident. Once his eyes fluttered open, he puffed out his chest and said, “I changed my mind.”

“You changed your mind,” Stark deadpanned.

“Yes. I want to be an Avenger.”

“You understand why I’m skeptical.”

“Um… yes, but—”

“Look, you turned me down last time and am I used to rejection?” Peter opened his mouth to answer but was immediately cut off. “The answer’s no, but I respected your decision. All that talk about looking out of the little guy—great—so what changed?”

“I’m ready for more than that now.”

“No, you’re not.”

“That’s not what you thought when I took on Captain America,” Peter argued.

“Trust me, kid. If Cap wanted to lay you out, he would’ve.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows at the realization that he got off easy, questioning his entire existence.

Stark pressed his palms together and pointed at him. “You really want to be an Avenger?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. “See, here’s the thing: there’s someone else.”

Peter’s face fell, heartbroken at the thought of being replaced. “What—What do you mean there’s someone else?”

“Well, after you turned me down, I recruited someone else. If you really want to be an Avenger, prove to me you’re better than her.”

“Wait, her?”

“Yeah. You think you got what it takes?”

“Well it’s rude to attack a lady—”

“No. Gender equality’s a thing, right? You beat her up, she beats you up. You both end up in casts—”

“Casts?!”

“Suit up and let’s go.”

With no other choice, Peter obeyed and did what he was told. His thoughts were racing at the thought of battling someone to prove his worth. But this was his dream and he had to get out of his own head. After he finished suiting up, Happy led Tony and him to the outdoor training area that featured a wide-opened space with reinforced surfaces.

It had strategically placed obstacles to encourage agility and tactical thinking during battles. Additionally, the area incorporated holographic projectors to create any virtual landscapes to simulate specific scenarios for the Avengers to train in.

And that was where Peter’s eyes landed on a figure in the distance. You, who was practicing your combat skills with a large kung fu spear. The way you moved was calculated, graceful, like a beautiful yet deadly dance. You performed many high kicks and flips, mesmerizing Peter as your hands maneuvered the spear so flawlessly around your body. Your father and Happy watched you, proud smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“That’s who you’ll be battling today,” Stark said, clapping his hands together once to catch your attention. You stopped what you were doing and landed in a perfect split with the spear parallel to your body, noticing your father and Happy’s presence. You got up and rushed over, your eyes quickly finding its way to the boy in the iconic red and blue costume.

“Hi D-... Mr. Stark. Happy.” You turned to Peter, loving the fact that he didn’t have his mask on yet so you could finally meet him as him. He was far cuter in person, you weren’t going to deny that. “I’m [Y/N].”

Your dad wanted this “test” to be authentic, so you couldn't tell Peter you were, in fact, a Stark. Plus you didn’t look like a Stark anyway, with you being adopted and all. It’d be a cinch.

“P-Parker, Peter. Parker Peter—I mean, Peter Parker,” Peter said softly, shaking your hand. God, you were so pretty that it made him a fumbling mess. He wondered if you two were the same age.

“Great. Now that both you kiddos are here, you both know what you have to do, right?”

You and Peter looked at each other and exchanged awkward smiles. “Mr. Stark, I’m not comfortable battling a… um…”

“Girl?” you finished. “I’d be more worried about yourself, darling.”

The way the word “darling” rolled off your tongue caused Peter’s face to redden like a cherry.

“I’m not saying girls can’t battle, I’m just saying I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Are you going to hold back if the enemy is a woman?”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but to no avail.

“You said you wanted to be an Avenger. There’s only one position available, so we’re going to be testing you both. Happy will launch the simulation sequence and then you two will be fighting one-on-one,” your father explained.

“Good luck,” Happy said, trying hard not to laugh. The two men walked a safe distance away where they could observe you both.

“What’s the simulation sequence?” Peter called out before putting on his mask.

“We’re going to be launching drones at you,” Stark called back from afar with cupped hands.

“Drones?!”

“Yeah, we want to see how much you’ve improved!”

“In 3, 2, 1!” Happy shouted as he pushed some buttons on his phone.

You and Peter both stared up at the sky as a swarm of drones lined up in a similar fashion as the game Space Invaders.

“May the best Avenger win,” you said, sending him a wink. He laughed nervously as you immediately launched yourself in the sky. Peter gasped in awe.

“She can fly?!”

Hovering in front of the drones, you closed your eyes and pressed your index and middle fingers together, forming a "V" shape. Bringing the fingers perpendicular to your forehead, it felt as if you were beckoning an unseen force. With unwavering focus, you opened your eyes, and the spear you held multiplied tenfold, floating effortlessly beside you. Extending your arm forward, you pointed confidently at the drones, issuing a resolute command for the spears to launch their attack. Explosions scattered throughout the sky as you managed to wipe out half the drones with one attack.

“And she can multiply things. Great,” Peter huffed, launching a web at one of the drones to join you.

“She’s going to destroy him,” your father said, chuckling to himself.

“Kid, come back. Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Peter shook his head while removing his mask, muttering self-deprecating thoughts to himself at his performance. You watched as he walked away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Did I go overboard?” you asked, a tinge of guilt eating away at your conscience. Your father chuckled and waved off your concern with a flick of the wrist.

“No, you did great. He’ll be fine.” He went after Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going any further. “Hey. You put up a good fight.”

Peter spun around, exasperated and using his hands to express his frustration. “I lost. There was no way I was going to win. She can fly, she can multiply things, she can use telekinesis, she can breathe fire—is she part dragon? How was I supposed to compete with that?!”

You saw him pointing at you from afar, giving him a small smile but was only reciprocated with a frown.

Tony put on a contemplating face. “Is she part dragon…?” he mumbled. “Anyway, I told you that I had to find someone else after you said no. And she’s earned her place. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but you lost fair and square.”

“But—”

“No buts. You aren’t ready. So lay low, be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and work your way up. Go to school, focus on classes, and finish that homework you’ve been putting off.”

“I don’t need to go to school.”

“Yes. You do. Even she goes to school,” Stark said, pointing over in your direction.

You went over to where Happy was, your eyes still glued on your father and Peter. “Happy, he looks so heartbroken.”

“I know. But it’s for the best. Kid’s too eager and knocking him down a peg might do him some good.”

“I feel bad.”

He patted your back and gave you a reassuring smile. “He will be okay. Your father appreciates your help.”

You immediately straightened your posture when you saw Peter come over with your father.

“Anything you want to say to [Y/N]?” your father asked, giving Peter a gentle nudge from behind.

“Congratulations,” Peter said, mustering up as much strength as he could to give you a smile. Because he really was happy for you, but it hurt for him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and the pitiful gaze in yours wasn’t helping.

“Thanks. You did really well.”

“Yeah, but I have all the bruises,” he joked, pointing at his face in a circular motion. You took a step forward and placed your palm out in front of his face.

“May I?”

His eyes widened in confusion, but he nodded anyway. An ember glow emitted from your hand and all his bruises healed in a matter of seconds.

“You can heal people too? What on earth can’t you do?” Peter was both fascinated but also very annoyed at your perfection.

“I can only heal minor bruises,” you said quickly.

“Of course,” he muttered.

“Happy, take him home for me.”

“Got it. Come on, Peter.”

“Bye Peter,” you said, giving him a shy wave. He only gave you another meek smile before walking away. You glared at your father, who only let out a sigh of relief.

“Great job, kiddo.”

The next day at school Ned practically crashed into Peter, who was at his locker minding his own business.

“Dude, dude, dude!”

“Whoa, what is it, Ned?!” Peter said, a hand on his chest from the sudden heart attack that was his best friend.

“There’s a new girl and she’s so cute. Have you seen her yet?”

Peter closed his locker shut, wracking his brain for a moment when he saw an unfamiliar face today. “No, I haven’t. What’s her name?”

“Uh… I can’t remember. Was it [wrong name]? Or maybe [another wrong name]?”

Peter looked down the hall and somehow amongst a cluster of students, he spotted you walking towards him. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes somehow went straight to you and only you. Irritation overcame him as he remembered the battle from yesterday. How you beat him so effortlessly, so ridiculously cool and being all perfect. And now you’re at his school? What, were you mocking him?

“Ned,” Peter said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Is that her?” He pointed at you and nodded his head in your direction.

Ned looked over in your direction and snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That’s her.”

“Dude, that’s the girl,” Peter muttered.

“Huh? What girl?”

He thought about how he sulked on the apartment balcony, venting to Ned about you. “The… girl… remember what I told you over the phone yesterday?”

It took a few seconds, but Ned’s brain finally clicked. “She’s the one that beat you? Her? Oh my god, you didn’t mention how cute she was!”

“Will you keep your voice down? She’s coming this way!” Peter opened his locker again and hid his face behind it. Ned shook his head in disapproval.

“Are you embarrassed? Come on. Challenge her again.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“No, dude, stop. You aren’t supposed to know about her. Mr. Stark will kill me.”

“But she goes to our school.”

Peter hid his face in his locker until you finally passed. He let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. That was, until Ned shouted out, “Hey! New girl!”

You stopped at the familiar label people were referring to you as. Once you turned around, you saw Ned’s huge smile while Peter still cowered in his locker. The boy you were walking with scoffed at Ned’s boldness.

“You don’t need to engage with them. They’re nobodies.”

“That’s not very nice, Flash,” you said, frowning at his poor choice of words.

“If we’re nobodies, why is she friends with Peter then, huh?” Ned exclaimed loudly. If a black hole could open up and swallow Peter whole, now would be the time.

“What, you know Penis Parker?” Flash asked you, incredulous at the new information. Peter carefully pulled his head out of his locker enough to take a tiny peek at you. He wondered what you were going to say.

“Yeah. I know Peter, Flaccid Flash,” you replied, bumping into his shoulder deliberately as you made your way over to Peter and Ned. The entire hallway filled with laughter at your stinging remark.

“Hi. I’m [Y/N]. I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over?”

Peter looked at your extended hand as if it was a foreign object, standing still as a statue. When his brain finally registered what you said, Ned had beat him to it, shaking your hand so fast like he was in the presence of royalty. “We would love to start over. I’m Ned. Peter’s best friend.”

You let out a laugh. “Hi Ned. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Without thinking, Peter grabbed your other hand. “Come with me.”

You didn’t have time to react and he led you to the nearest empty classroom, thankful class hadn’t started yet.

“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, letting go of your hand. You leaned against the wall, crossing one foot over the other.

“I go to school here now?”

“But why here?”

“Because… it’s a nice school?”

Peter placed a hand on his forehead, his jaw clenched as he thought of what to say next without sounding like an ass. “Look, you beat me and you’re an Avenger fair and square. I’m happy for you, really.” His words became soft and broken towards the end. “But seeing you reminds me that Mr. Stark will never be impressed with me. So can you give me space?”

His voice was frail but sincere. You got off the wall and gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.”

Before Peter could leave, you asked him one last question. “Sorry, but could you tell me where gym class is? I have it first period.”

It took everything in Peter not to curse out loud. He had to fight back his bitterness and said through gritted teeth. “Yeah. I have it first period too.”

You smiled to yourself, trailing closely behind him as he led you both to your first class. Together.

Reblogs and thoughts are appreciated! Thank you!

Update: I might be in the middle of writing a part 2. :) Your support means a lot!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker #mcu spiderman #peter parker mcu #peter parker x you #peter parker e2l #peter parker x oc #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #stark!reader #tom holland peter parker #inferior flames #my writing

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 10

“Don't Worry Baby" by Lorrie Morgan feat. the Beach Boys

#song of the day #I fell asleep on the couch yesterday and never did the song of the day #I got a little ahead of myself on the 8th I think because really the song for yesterday ought to have been Cosmo Canyon #but then I missed yesterday so I'm going to say that I get to pick two songs for today and apply one retroactively (I am cheating) #anyway the two songs are Roche's battle music from FFVII Rebirth #(using 'Ignition Flame' from the Remake OST as my placeholder until we get the proper Rebirth remix. got his same driving beat) #(that's not meant to be a pun--or at least it wasn't by me. probably Nobuo Uematsu did it on purpose) #and this song by Lorrie Morgan and the Beach Boys (I always want to say the Beastie Boys which is hilarious #I cannot think of a less Beastie Boys sounding song) #we had our final race with Roche today. he won :'( #unrelated to today's battle is my vindication! I finally looked up his voice actor and I was right! same voice as Gladio from XV #my guys <3 #and then also I got back to my house today and my plants are fine! Duncan took good care of them I'm so relieved #the succulents are the Don't Worry Babies you see so that's where the second song comes in #it's sort of a cover--the original version of the song only has the Beach Boys but it is far inferior to this Lorrie-led version

[bat-the-misfit]

i always dream that i'm burning alive bc of my erythromelalgia. it's my brain's dumb way to say "hey you're in the middle of a flare right now wake up bitch"

HOWEVER today i woke up from the same dream but i was completely normal, no flare

bitch the brain is weird

#my mom said it's bc i'm always quick to anger #but in my dream i was scared not angry #like i was trying to run away from the fire #me and many people #in the end the fire got us and i felt the pain of burnt #it makes sense the anger thing especially with everything that happened these past years #i feel so many emotions but the only one i tend to show is anger #i transform all these emotions into angry outbursts (hello my fellow people with inferior Te lmao) #but the fact i wasn't angry in the dream is what make me disbelief that this is about my anger #i also thought about the “passion” to live the “flame” inside of us to make us want to live #i used to compare my will to write stories as the “flame” in my heart and that it died after all these shit happened #but again i don't think my “passion” will come back bc i wasn't happy in the dream #ok enough scary shit #i may be used to have this nightmare but i get scared every time #but this one was weird bc i got no flare!!! #like what the hell!!! #well aNYWAY #tio morcego tá tagarela

[tsui-no-sora]

Nooo :(( why do people dislike Jiang Cheng he's literally just a little guy full of problems he and his siblings were born on a sewer underneath a bridge all on their own one lonely night full of storms he's like an injured cat you find on the side of the road he's never done anything wrong

#my Jiang Cheng my Jiang Cheng they just dont understand you like I do #he misses his brother so much but who his brother is has damaged him time and time again #he wishes to go back to a time where everything was more innocent and happy #the world around him has fallen apart and crumbled to dust he was left behind with no place and no people to call home #for over a decade #with all the responsibility to try to live up to expectations he couldn't that everybody told him he couldn't while handling the weight o #of an entire sect and family on his shoulders #he always felt inferior and unloved while loving and looking up to his family members he's unable to properly express his love for those #close to him and lashes out in anger and in worry and in fear and in desperation because hes lost so much already and hes a strong man but #he thinks not strong enough never strong enough #at his core Jiang Cheng is a scared boy whos lost everything he ever loved whos trying to rebuild it while feeling completely incapable #and who cares so much for others that it comes off as fiery passion that's difficult to understand #a person who wants a home back a home he watched go up in flames

[cassiefromhell]

The Game

Nanami x Wife!Reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: f!reader, mdni/18+, smut, teasing, ROUGH, manhandling, gentle choking, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering a/n: this is a combination of my reaction to the latest jjk ep and a general need for manhandling nanami.

You know exactly what is coming for you.

You can feel his eyes on you from across the room. Watching you. 

Watching his pretty little wife play games that she’d lose. 

Because you have one goal in mind: piss off your husband, Nanami Kento.

Which is not an easy task. But you had pissed him off once before, a few weeks ago, and had been insatiably craving more. His reaction that night was… his hands in your hair, throwing you back against the bed, the words out of his mouth—

You can’t help but blush a little at the memories that flood your head now, as you speak to a man twice your age at this party. You know this man thinks he has a chance with you. He came up to you earlier, and is now flirting with you relentlessly, seeming blind to the ring on your marriage finger which marks you as claimed. 

You giggle a little at something he says, taking your poker and stabbing at the fire. You sip the glass of wine in your hands. There’s no need to look over your shoulder to confirm; Kento is most decidedly watching you.

And that fire? It’s growing.

You can feel the way your white silk mini dress has ridden up your thighs a little, but you don’t do anything to fix it, no matter how much the skin on the back of your thighs sizzles and sears under his scorched gaze.

All it takes is for the man to reach out, try to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and the flame explodes.

Hands are on your waist in an instant, a cotton-covered, firm chest pressed against your back. You know that chest. Those hands.

“I think it’s time for us to get going, don’t you think, dear?” Kento grits out, his thumbs digging into your skin. A warning.

“Oh,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him. You’re met with a hard-set jaw and cold eyes, as your husband stares down the inferior man who got a centimeter too close. “But it’s raining. We’ll have to wait for it to slow down a bit, or have a valet bring the car around, we’re parked a block away—”

“We’ll walk. Goodbye,” he flashes the tightest, fakest smile you’ve ever seen, and then turns you towards the elevator, pushing you in that direction.

And what choice do you have? You half walk, half stumble forward, his hands never faltering in their iron grip the whole walk over. He stops you in front of the elevator.

“Button,” he commands, jerking his chin towards the panel with two buttons, one an up arrow and the other down.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“It seems that if I let you go for half a second, you’ll run off and let yourself get eye-fucked by a nobody in a cheap suit. Button,” he growls, his hands tightening their grip, causing your sides to protest.

You whimper softly, reaching out and pressing the down button. It glows a soft blue, and you tilt your head to the side, gazing up at your angry, blond man. “What’s got you in such a frenzy? I was socializing—”

He scoffs. “Socializing. Sure. I know the game you’re playing, and might I remind you that it’s a game you can’t win, darling.”

You swallow hard, fighting back a flinch as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. 

Empty.

Kento shuffles you both inside, and holds the ‘close doors’ button so hard that you’re afraid it might actually crack.

The elevator doors slide closed, and he releases you, taking two steps back.

Suddenly, the air is so thick that you can hardly breathe, and the thought of the fingerprint bruises he’s likely left on you fills your head.

“Ke—”

“No. No more words from you,” he spits out, practically punching the ground floor button.

You pout, and take a step towards him. “‘Nam, c’mon,” you poke that damned fire again, just waiting for it to burn you.

And it does.

His arm snaps out, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “I said, quiet.”

That sharp anger in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, abdomen tensing. You bite your bottom lip, and try your luck. “You’re a little angry, huh?”

Your back is against the wall before you can even process what’s happened, before you recognize that he’s shoved you into the corner of the elevator, one hand gripping your neck and the other pressed firmly against your hip, keeping you in place. His body is fully pressed to yours, and the straining bulge you feel is unmistakable.

“Angry? You have no idea,” he says, his voice having dropped to an eerily calm tone. “I want to throw you onto the ground of this damned elevator and make you suck me off right here, right now. I want to fuck your throat, and then that kinky little cunt of yours, until you are sobbing and begging me to stop.”

Your breath catches in your throat— no, it completely stops. You’re no longer breathing.

“Then do it.”

He gives a breathy chuckle, suddenly spinning you around, a hand knotting in your hair and shoving your cheek against the wall. And then he leans down, presses his lips against your ear, and…

“No. You’d like that too much.”

You whine, straining against his grip on you. Kento is usually ever the gentleman, the perfect white picket fence husband. He brings you roses each Friday and a piece of your favorite cake every Tuesday, and fucks the shit out of you each day when he returns from missions. But he’s so… polite, all the time, his touch gentle and his voice soft. He’s the type to rest his hand on your thigh while he drives, and carry you bridal style into the house.

But this Kento… This Kento is the reason you’re trying to piss him off. Because you unlocked the manhandling, relentless Kento once, and now can’t get enough of it.

Suddenly, the hand on your neck drops down, down, down to your thighs, and then up under your skirt. Kento’s fingers ghost over your bare pussy, straight up laughing when he realizes you’re wearing no underwear. But the laughter is harsh, and sends shivers down your spine.

“You really planned this, didn’t you dear.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“Can you blame me?” You murmur, trying to grind down on his hand, the hand which is now cupping your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand juuuust below your clit. “Please.”

“We’re almost on our floor,” Kento suddenly releases you, fixing your dress with a soft touch and taking two steps back. 

You open your mouth to complain, but right on cue, the elevator doors slide open. Kento presses a hand against the small of your back, forcibly guiding you out of the elevator, and across the plaza, out to the main doors.

Where it’s pouring.

You pause outside the glass doors, crossing your arms across your chest. “No. It’s pouring.”

Kento sighs, but looks you over, and realizes it at the same moment as you do; you’re wearing white.

And Kento is a gentleman.

“I’ll bring the car around. You stay right here, you understand me?”

You nod, and he’s out the doors in an instant.

You find yourself shifting on your feet as you wait, your heels really starting to do a number on you. You keep fixing your dress, trying to ignore how you’re wetter than the rain outside.

Your feet have not moved an inch when your familiar white BMW M8 pulls up to the doors, and your husband gets out of the driver's seat, umbrella in hand.

And he is soaking wet.

His blue shirt sticks to his chest, not hiding any of the rippling muscle along his entire torso. He’s discarded his gray suit jacket, but the pants have darkened a shade due to the rain. His hair sticks to his face, blond locks drenched.

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks when you realize how close you are to being able to make out his dick print, and that only worsens when he walks through those doors, headed straight for you.

“I didn’t move,” you murmur as he takes your arm, gripping your bicep tightly and heading for the exit once more.

“That earns you no brownie points tonight.”

Kento opens the umbrella as he drags you outside, holding it over your head. Not a drop of water hits you as he escorts you to the car, and then opens the door to the back seat.

You raise a brow. “Backseat?”

“So you can’t touch me,” he replies, and then promptly sweeps your feet out from under you, catches you, and tosses you into the back seat.

You yelp as your back hits the leather, and the door is closed immediately. Kento is in the driver’s seat before you can blink, staring at you in the rear view mirror. 

You buckle yourself up, and he seems satisfied, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot at a speed that’s probably too fast.

You chew your bottom lip, watching his hair drip onto his face, watching his hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, watching his foot press the accelerator.

“You’ll catch a cold,” you murmur, leaning forward and running a hand over his hair, trying to squeeze some of the water out.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your fingers away from his head. “No touching.”

You pout, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward, pressing your face against his neck. “Kentoooo…”

You feel the change in his demeanor immediately. He tenses, and reaches back to grip your hair, yanking your head away from him.

“That’s it,” he hisses, and pulls the car into an empty parking lot, putting it in park.

He’s out of the driver’s seat instantly, coming around to the back, and climbing into the back seat.

You have to fight back your victorious grin, but he doesn’t have the same plans as you do, because he grabs you, and pulls you out of the car and into the rain.

“Kento—”

His mouth crashes into yours, and he grabs your chin tightly, his other hand holding your waist to his. You whimper into his mouth, trying to ignore the cold rainwater that’s certainly making your white dress translucent.

He pulls away just when you begin to shiver, then drags you around the car, putting you into the passenger seat and slamming the door. He appears back in the driver’s seat in an instant, his jaw once again set and eyes cold as ice.

“What happened to the no touching rule?” You grin, kicking off your heels.

“Better idea.”

He pulls back onto the road, eyes staying on the path ahead, all while his hand starts to make its way under your skirt.

You realize what he’s doing just as a finger plunges into you, sliding easily with your wetness. You groan loudly, whimpering as his thumb grazes your clit.

He slides in a second finger, and starts pulling them out and pushing them back in, all while stimulating your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for you to be whimpering and grinding against his hand, gripping the door for support and leverage.

With a few more strokes and swipes of his thumb, that coil in your abdomen begins to tighten, your cunt clenching around his fingers. “Ah— oh, shit…”

Kento withdraws his hand, and you open your mouth to protest, then realize he’s pulled the car into your garage, and is putting it in park.

And he presses the garage door closing button.

And then waits, both hands on the steering wheel, as the garage door closes.

The second that the concrete meets the door, Kento turns his head to look at you, all needy and desperate with pleas begging to escape your lips.

“You really want me to be rough with you?” he asks, his brows stitched together in concern.

“Wherever would you have gotten that impression?” you drone, raising a brow sarcastically. “I want to get the ever-loving shit fucked out of me.”

“You want to be hurt?”

“A little. I liked last time,” you murmur, allowing your mind to slip back a little bit, back to that night that had left you both bruised and begging for more.

“There are better ways to go about this than pissing me off,” your husband narrows his eyes, jaw clenching.

“This is the authentic way.”

“You’re spoiled, you know that?”

“You’re hard as fuck, you feel that?” your eyes flick to the bulge under his pants zipper.

That’s enough to send Kento flying out of the car, and before you know it, he’s opening your door, dragging you out by your bicep.

You yelp, stumbling forward as his grip on you — which is covered in your slick — remains firm. He pulls you into the house, and your back is pressed against a wall immediately, his mouth on yours, hand around your throat.

Kento pulls you up the wall, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching cunt against his shirt. He roots his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to be a bit painful.

Clearly he’s done waiting, because his dick is out within seconds, and he’s pulling up your dress. You whimper once the fabric is bunched up around your waist, gripping his shoulders.

“Please…”

“You think that’s enough?” he scoffs, tugging your hair and tilting your head back. “You flirt with another man, nearly let him touch you, act like a brat, and you expect me to just give it to you?” Nevertheless, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the slightest bit of pressure. 

“Fuck—” you whine, groaning softly. The hand holding you up digs into your skin. “I’ll be good— jesus, please. I need you.”

Kento slaps your ass, and then thrusts nearly his entire thick length in at once, causing you to cry out, tears coming to your eyes. He immediately starts a bruising pace, fucking you into the wall so god damn hard that a picture frame nearby rattles.

You whimper as his cock reaches that sweet spot once— and then again, and again, until you’re matching each thrust with a tilt of your hips and a moan.

“Fuck— there you go, baby,” he grits out, yanking on your hair. “Take it all.”

That familiar cool begins to tighten, your abdomen tensing as he picks up his pace even more, and you wonder how it’s possible — untll you look down and realize he’s using the tiniest bit of cursed energy to fuck the actual shit out of you.

“Cum for me, come on. You wanted this so bad, so cum on my dick.”

And that’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge, stars flooding your vision and a long string of curses leaving your lips like a prayer.

His thrusts grow a little sloppier, and he spills himself into you with a hiss, leaving little nips along your jawline. 

“I’m not close to being done with you, just as a fair warning,” he growls, and then tosses you over his shoulder.

At this point, you’re half dead.

But also half alive, kept awake by Kento’s hands rubbing circles along your skin, the bubbly bath water tickling your breasts. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to a bruise on your shoulder.

You give a half-babbled response, leaning into his warmth more.

“Full sentences, please.”

“Mm.. I love you,” you manage, turning to face him. You press your face into his neck and inhale his scent.

“I love you too.”

A long pause comes, with Kento just rubbing circles into your bruised sides. Then, he speaks.

“Now, what did we learn?”

“That pissing off the husband results in mind-blowing sex.”

He draws a sharp breath in, and smacks your shoulder gently. “No, no. We learned that we don’t have to piss the husband off, we just have to use our words and plan a date for these things.”

“That’s not very authentic.”

“Do I have a shot at winning this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright.”

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x wife!reader #smut #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #f!reader #second person #cassiefromhell

[thebreakfastgenie]

What is your s'mores theory?

It's not a theory about s'mores so much as a theory of s'more-making.

Graham crackers. Nabisco from the red box are ideal. If you can't get those, the Honey Maid ones are acceptable, but inferior.

You need mid-tier chocolate. Hersheys is perfect. Lowest-tier store brand chocolate is no good, but chocolate that's too fancy doesn't work either. The one area where I'm willing to diverge from 100% classic s'more is that in my opinion dark chocolate pairs better with marshmallow than milk chocolate does. However, milk chocolate has a lower melting point so it melts a little better. It's personal preference. Also you really want to pay attention to the shape of the chocolate, because it has to fit on the graham cracker and it has to be the right thickness for melting. The classic full-size bars are the best (half a bar per s'more), two minis will work in a pinch. Don't fuck around with fancy shit like Reeses cups. That's not what we're here for.

Classic marshmallows only. This is so important. They NEED to be ROUND so you can rotate them and make them roast evenly. Those square ones are an abomination unto the lord. The ones coated in coconut just don't roast as well (they are delicious though). You MUST roast the marshmallow on a WOODEN stick. Metal heats up too fast and the inside melts before it's done cooking and it falls off the stick. Sad! Also I'm sorry but the people who say they like to set their marshmallows on fire are just too impatient to cook them properly. It's pure cope. You have to cook them slow to make them puff up!!! If they're not puffing up they're not cooked right!! They should be gooey and melty on the inside and toasty and crunchy on the outside. I like a dark brown exterior it must be said but you will get that by roasting. It works best to roast over coals, not a big open flame, which does kill the bonfire aesthetic a little but oh well. Have two fires or build the fire back up after you make your s'more idk.

S'mores CANNOT be recreated indoors. They never taste right. It's not just about the chocolate+marshmallow+graham cracker combination. For one thing roasted marshmallow is a completely different flavor and it can only be achieved over an open flame. Melting a marshmallow in the microwave will never give you that. Secondly it is also about the TEXTURE and the TEMPERATURE. It's a whole experience. It should also be dark! You should be outside!

S'mores WILL be messy. As god intended. That thing WILL ooze when you bite into it. You WILL have marshmallow all over your hands, face, in your hair. If you're not prepared for that you're not ready for S'mores.

Seriously don't try to make them gourmet! I've tried it! It's never as good! You cannot beat the classics!

[project-sonadow]

happy hour drabble #3

Sonic pushed a milkshake into Shadow’s hand. “Try this one, it’s chocolate, strawberry, and a hint of vanilla.” 

Shadow looked unimpressed. “You need to stop walking in here like you own the place. They’re giving me looks.” 

“They’ll forget in a day,” Sonic said. “Come on, lemme know if I’m onto something here.” 

“You’re getting sloppy, we’re supposed to be undercover.” Shadow took a sip of Sonic’s milkshake. “It’s fine.” 

Sonic rolled his eyes. “See this is why you can’t cook, ‘it’s fine’ doesn’t tell me anything.” 

“I can cook!” Shadow felt the flame of competitiveness ignite in his chest. “Your taste is simply inferior.” 

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say.” Sonic snatched the milkshake from Shadow’s hand and took a sip.

“Disgusting.”

“You’re too uptight.” 

Sonic’s ear flicked towards the door. Footsteps were approaching the breakroom. He grabbed the collar of Shadow’s uniform and pressed a kiss to Shadow’s cheek just as one of the shop workers walked in. Perfect timing. He winked and strode out of the room like he’d belonged there the whole time. 

Shadow pointedly did not make eye contact with his coworker. His gaze landed on the table, where a Speedy’s labeled paper bag sat in front of him. He had eaten breakfast, and had no need for another meal so soon, yet Sonic kept insisting on leaving a lunch behind no matter how many times Shadow informed him of his superior metabolism. 

His coworker tried to comment on the exchange, but Shadow ignored them, almost violently grabbed the grease-stained bag, and stormed out of the breakroom, thoroughly embarrassed. 

#project writes #happy hour au #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #heehoo yippee!

[plutopitou]

◇ Cry for me

gojo satoru x female reader

genre: smut, angst

Gojo is not the type to love so easily. Every falling tear you spill he revels in like a moth to a flame. What did you have to do for him to stay? Easy. Just cry for him even harder. | MDNI 18+

word count: 1.4k

warnings: yandere!gojo, sadistic gojo, degradation, dacryphilia, dub/con, smut, rough sex, dumbification, not for the lighthearted, he’s mean oof, he has a god complex, you have an inferiority complex

im back everyone, please enjoy what rots my infected brain <3

“Go on..” he urges in a lulling whisper.

“Cry for me.”

He wanted to laugh in your face as your wails and whines wisp into the air- his favorite sound to hear out of you.

Gojo couldn’t help but admire just how beautiful you looked when you cried.

It fueled his stomach to spit such vile and callous words while pounding your sensitive pussy, watching the tears bubble up beneath your wet lashes as you latch onto him even harder to match his vicious thrusts.

Carnal instinct takes over to jackrabbit your aching hole with sharp plunges as your face becomes wet on your flush cheeks.

He holds a harsh grip on your chin, forcing you to meet his sweet and cold eyes. “Are you shy? Don’t look away from me..” He gasps out, his heavy breaths constricted from the sensation of fucking your soft plush body.

His words convey a playful tease but is laced with threat. You’re too fucked full to feel his energy shift to something more sinister. Your eyes feel heavy and your mind feels high. Feeling him slide in and out as you focus on his snow-white hair rustle against his pale sheen forehead.

Moaning and writhing beneath him, you’re entranced by his lean and milky body arch and maneuver in such an obscene manner that pleases you infinitely. The glimpse of his back muscles constricting and relaxing as he pushes forward another hard thrust leaves you aching.

Each pump into your soaking pussy has meaning.

He grips onto the soft, fragile flesh of your neck, sending shivers up your spine from the dominance of his touch.

Your vision is drunkenly hazy. His mouth is moving and you can barely make out the muffled words from his soft lips.

Look at you moan baby..

You gotta like this, don’t you?

C’mon, tell me sweetheart..

He liked you so much he just wanted to practically hurt you. Watching you mewl to stop while still begging for more as he bullies your insides was like pretending to throw a ball for an eager dog. You both loved every second of it.

It was so good he almost convinced you he actually loved you - loved by thee Satoru Gojo.

Gojo Satoru was not the type to love or be loved so easily.

He was a white rose with thorns. It irked him why you always seemed to not get the hint you were supposed to keep away.

Months of trying to redirect you away from his path, you still always ended up following his pace. His red flags looked green if you were infactuated enough.

Your fingers are pricked and you bled and bled trying to get a firm grip on the stem, no matter how much it hurt.

Can anyone really blame you for following him like a lost puppy?

Everyone knew a man like him belonged in the middle of a marble museum. He’s always been the main attraction. The center of an exhibit of a series of the most exquisite, bodily sculptures there is. He was the type to be guarded by red velvet rope, so tempting to be touched and admired by anyone who looked, but never touched. Tempting to run your finger through the cold and hard ridges of his abdomen and muscle that was attentively carved.

Satoru Gojo is a man that was carefully crafted by god himself.

A type of man rumored to have some of god’s power as well.

To think someone so divine as him would settle down after he got his fill was a joke. Did you think you were special?

Yet with every pump to your leaking hole you started to doubt if your uncertainty was warranted.

Gojo pulls out and rolls you onto your stomach, wasting no time as he pushed himself right back into your pussy with a gasp, squeezing his shaft from tip to base so good it makes him lightheaded. He grips the base root of your hair, keeping you flat down, the perfect position to keep fuck how he wants, how he needs.

Your eyes are lidded, a euphoric buzz down your body as your tears soak into the pillow..

“Look at your pretty pussy cry for me, too, baby..”

Gojo shuffles his hand to grip onto your lower pelvic, pushing and massaging your sensitive area. “Does it feel good right here, hm? Does it?” You flinch from the sudden arousel, fueling the claps of your skin and squelch of both your sex. You whine feeling yourself drip down your thigh to the white sheets below as you lazily try to push his hand away.

“Don’t you feel pathetic, sweetheart? How easy you make this?” He whispers against the shell of your ear, panting. “Does it feel good to be used like this? Like a fucking fleshlight?”

The sounds of his pelvis hitting your ass echos against the walls of the room, the sound bouncing back into your ears just as aggressively as he’s fucking you.

“Are you gonna be my good baby and hold all my cum in like one, too?”

“Mhm.. I wanna take all of it-“ You mumble, forcing yourself to sound coherent, face still laced with tears.

Tilting your head to the side you wanted to look at him. You wanted to see how he made you feel what you are feeling. How every light touch of his sent shivers down your back and every raspy word made your tummy flutter.

You could shed down that power into tiny fragments from one sensual look and didn’t even know.

He couldn’t let himself fall apart like this.

You yelp as he pushes your head back into the fluffy pillow before you can see past his shoulder. His force and sudden demeanor to not just make you moan, but to make you scream.

He revels in it.

Your pillow soaking in every teardrop and moan, muffled to try and hide your eager desperation. Your ass pushing back on his hard cock, both of your arousel building at the base.

His restricted moans vibrate down your sheen body. Gojo bends his arm to grip your neck, the light sensation of his abs hits your back with his carnal digs to kiss your cervix and give it a sweet gift.

“I want it, please, I want it.” You breathe. Your stream of tears roll down to his hand, and he found it erotic.

“Should I finish, huh? You want my cum, baby?” He prods. “You want me to cum right here?”

God, for your subservient nature there was no other place meant for you. You let this happen to yourself, and he never had a problem letting himself be a little selfish.

“Yeah, you’re gonna take all of it. It’s the least you could do..” Through your encased ecstasy you can hear Gojo’s brief repeated mumbles of just how much you owe him this.

Such a compromising position you were in yet you’re the one still begging.

Gojo couldn’t stop himself from wanting to send himself over the edge. He basked in that euphoric feeling of rapture with every drop of his cum pushed into your pussy, letting his hips roll back in for safe measure.

Little drips of your cum mixed with his seeps out the corners of your hole.

Lifting his weight off your back, you roll to the side in exhaustion. Catching your breath, you feel a sudden clasp on your hand.

He softly guides your fingers down to where your cum is mixed, letting the soft pads run through your slippery folds. Such a lewd position he puts you in. You can feel where his cum runs down your thigh.

Gasping, Gojo pushes your fingers into yourself. “What do you say?” He murmurs softly. His face can be read as expressionless, but his words are condescending.

For a second, you wonder how many more tears you have to spill until he realizes they are more than what he thinks.

Did you have to bottle them up in a jar as a gift for him to see you will give everything you have for his assurance and love?

It is a rocky climb up the pedestal of which he is the center of.

All you wanted was to be by his side.

He watches you carefully for your next choice of words, following the last stray tear tumbling down your flushed cheek.

“Thank you.”

These past couple months have been so rough for me mentally, i struggled to write but im glad I was able to finish this :)

This was inspired by twice’s cry for me who I recently saw on tour and they were amazing.

Ok love you guys hopefully I can finish Dabi, sorry for the absence, I will work harder!

Please like, follow and reblog ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #yandere gojo #gojo smut #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #tw.dumbification #tw.dubcon #tw.breeding #tw.dacryphilia #tw.dark content #tw.smut #tw.manipulation #tw.degradation #tw.yandere #pitou.fics #pitou.writes

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Chaos Creator's Chapter 282

Brief summary: Ryan goes on a rampage after realizing his plan failed. Cale prioritizes purifiying the black liquid. Lock meets the Blue Wolf in a vision and awakens.

==========

Today was Lock's awakening chapter. It was so funny seeing Ryan having so much of an inferiority complex. 😂 He realized that his plan to become god failed, and hated the fact that a young inexperienced kid like Lock was going to become a god instead of him.

Cale became a rear supporter this time as Lock took the lead in this fight against Ryan. Lock was the focus today that Cale's purification of the black liquid was just mentioned happening in the background.

We also got to know why Ryan decided to corrupt the divine item. He met a demon trader in the past who told him stuff about the gods. The gods oppressed the demon race because the demons knew about the weaknesses of gods.

Divine items were important to gods such as the god of beastmen and the god of dwarves. A god who become alienated to their divine item would receive the divine item's grudge or resentment. And the more of this resentment the gods receive, the more their powers as a god weakened.

So Ryan alienated the Blue Wolf to their divine item, Howl of the Sunset, by corrupting it with the ritual execution of beastmen.

Back to Lock, when he ate the essence of the divine item, he got a vision. He met the Blue Wolf in a form of a small wolf wrapped in blue flames. Lock acknowledged that he was a coward, but that was also why he was doing his best to overcome his cowardice. And when his hand touched the blue wolf, he got his awakening! 🥰

I'm laughing at how all the beasts were bowing to Lock as if he was their god. 😂 Even more so when Ryan thought that all the beastmen would soon worship and treat Lock like a god. 🤣🤣🤣 It looks like Lock will become a god first before Cale. 😂

Ending Remarks I like chapters that focus on a character and their personal growth, so today made me really happy. Gone is the timid wolf. Our Lock now is the top predator wolf who is happy to find his prey. Do it, Lock! Beat up that Ryan!

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

[cheeekycharchar]

"Shame and guilt have followed humanity since Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden."

Good Omens; a story of an Angel that can't accept love because of shame and a Demon that can't accept forgiveness because of guilt.

"It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one."

An in-depth analysis of an Angel suffering from shame and a Demon wracked with guilt.

Let's dive deeper below the cut!

[Now I'm going to lay down a lot of facts, definitions and minimal psychological babble and I want you, as the reader, to view this through your GO nerd glasses. Also, I want to express that I am not a therapist or religious in any way- this was all done as academic research for the fandom's sake cause I can't shut my brain up. I tried to organize it the best I could. ..sorry it's so long but I swear it's worth the read through! ;)]

-------=======-------

• Shame is the painful emotion you have when you perceive that you are not good enough in some way. Entirely self imposed and only known to you, shame can be an unpleasant self-conscious feeling often associated with negative self-evaluation. When shame is chronic, it makes you believe that you are fundamentally flawed, defective, dishonorable, immoral, or improper.

• Guilt is a negative feeling of worry or unhappiness that you get because you have done something wrong. It's a moral emotion that occurs when a person believes or realizes- accurately or not- that they have compromised their own standards of conduct or have violated universal moral standards and bear significant responsibility for it. When guilt is chronic, it can be a toxic emotion that could cause a person to take on unjust responsibility if things around them go wrong. They are quick to accept that everything is their fault even though it isn't.

While guilt is about wrong actions, shame is about being wrong as a person.

-------=======-------

In academic psychology, shame is associated with avoiding failure and its consequences while guilt is connected with forgiving and improving one's self, along with making amends.

Guilt and Shame are often confused for each other but there’s a big difference between the two. Guilt can help you understand how your actions impact others, but shame is an inward-facing emotion that reflects how you feel about yourself. (And I do realize that Aziraphale may, at times, feel guilt and Crowley can also feel a sense of shame. But the main motivation behind majority of their characterizations and actions throughout the series are both coming from these two different feelings.)

Guilt can help you move forward while shame keeps you stuck in the past. [such as the "We could have been.. us." and "You go too fast for me." scenes] And the only way to rid themselves of these negative emotions is through recovery with unconditional love and forgiveness.

-------=======-------

• How Aziraphale represents the concept of shame •

Shame tricks you into believing that you aren't good. That you are worthless. Not that you've done something bad, but that you are bad. Ever since Aziraphale gave away his flaming sword, he started to question himself. But it wasn't until he outright lies to his fellow Angel's about the true fate of Job's children that he truly believes he has fallen- that he violated God's word and lied (again). He believes there must be something truly wrong with who he is as an Angel. He's a flawed creation of God and he feels a dreaded sense of deep shame from this.

Feelings of shame can also present itself in different types such as, Chronic Shame (negative emotions all the time that you aren't good enough), Performance Shame (feeling as though you are inferior compared to others) and Shame from Unrequited Love (this is a feeling of not being good enough for another person T^T).

Shame is a harmful, negative emotion that when internalized enough can result in an overly harsh evaluation of oneself.

-------=======-------

Next, let's take a closer look at what defines shame and how it operates through Aziraphale:

• Being Defensive is a way to avoid taking responsibility for our behavior.

"I don't need you." "And the feeling is mutual!"

• Perfectionism is the unrealistic desire to be perfect and is often a defense against shame. If we’re perfect, no one can criticize us; no one can shame us. We keep up a front that looks good to the world. We may spend a lot of time attending to our dress and looks.

"I do have standards."

• Apologizing constantly. Shame can prompt us to be overly apologetic and compliant.

"I did the 'I was wrong' dance in…"

• Procrastination can occur from a deep hidden shame. If we consider pursuing something and it doesn’t turn out well, we might be paralyzed by that feeling. If we never try, then we don’t have to face possible failure and subsequent shame.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley.."

-------=======-------

Next are the four category behaviors resulting from shame:

• The Hot Response These are things you do when you feel ashamed and defensive, such as lashing out in anger or attacking the other person to deflect attention from yourself.

"I don't even like you!" [always resorts to being defensive in any argument]

• Behaviors to Cope With or Conceal the Shame These behaviors include doing things to make yourself feel small, trying to avoid being the center of attention, or not sharing your thoughts or feelings. Concealing yourself is a method of self-protection.

[always awkward and can't speak openly around other Angels]

• Safety Behaviors to Avoid Shame or Being Discovered This category of shame behaviors might be things like apologizing, crying, or avoiding conflict. People who have a tendency toward being emotional or avoiding conflict may be more likely to engage in safety behaviors.

"Why? What's wrong? I mean.. if there is something wrong.."

-------=======-------

The Impact of Feeling Shame:

• Makes you feel like you are flawed or there is something wrong with you

"I'm like you now. A demon. I'm a fallen angel.." • Can lead to social withdrawal

[spends most of his time in the bookshop alone] • May cause you to become defensive and shame others in return "I'm an angel! And you're a demon!" • May cause you to inflate your ego to hide the belief that you don’t have value

"Well, I am a great deal holier than thou. That's the whole point." • May leave you feeling empty, lonely, or worn out

"But I thought you said it wasn't [lonely]?" • May lead to lowered self-esteem

"I'm.. soft." • May make it harder for you to trust other people

"Obviously, you're lying. You're a demon. That's what you do." • May lead to perfectionism or overachievement to try and counteract your feelings of shame

"If I can just reach the right people and resolve all of this-" "That's not going to happen! How could somebody as clever as you be so stupid!?" • May cause you to engage in people pleasing

"Doing good again, Angel? "Oh, hardly counts. Purely for selfish reasons." • May cause you to avoid talking because you are afraid to say the wrong thing

[trying to explain to Metatron in S1 without revealing too much] • May cause compulsive or excessive behaviors like overworking, excessive cleaning, or having too high of standards in general

[non stop research all day and night to look for the antichrist by himself]

-------=======-------

• How Crowley represents the concept of guilt •

Guilt is what you feel after committing a specified or perceived offence/crime/bad action.  It's typically attached to a feeling you experience when you do something wrong on purpose or accidentally and can regret that action. Guilt can be morally ambiguous.

"Well, maybe there is something to be said for.. shades of grey?" "..Shades of dark grey."

Signs of guilt are unique but these are the most common (again there are many but these I thought related to Crowley the best):

• Low self-esteem

*sighs* "Don't bother..."

• Excessive attempts at reparation [Crowley always trying to secretly help humanity when he can]

• Being unable to meet someone’s gaze

[Covering his eyes not only hides his snake eyes but also his guilty feelings]

• Anxiety "We are fucked!" [and we all know TV!Crowley is 100% more anxiety ridden than Book!Crowley is lol]

• Trouble sleeping [Sleeps too long (100 year nap from book). Or can't get comfortable sleeping (from S1 deleted scene)]

• Depressed mood

"What's even the point.. everything seems.. pointless.."

• Avoidance of people, places, or events linked to the cause of guilt "I'm not going to be joining their team and neither should you!" [doesn't want to return to Heaven or Hell and is "on his own side" to avoid them further] • Shifts in energy levels [can be giddy/jumpy one second to morose/moody the next, etc]

• Emotional outbursts

"I'm just so angry!"

• Appetite changes

[took up drinking alcohol even though its unnatural to]

• Making amends [spends every moment since Eden trying to secretly do good despite the hellish consequences]

-------=======-------

Defense mechanisms against feeling guilty can become an overriding aspect of one's personality. (These are also related to trauma response.)

• Displacement is a defensive tool that may take the form of blaming the victim or taking your feelings out on others.

"You know what you've done. You've disappointed me."

• Projection is sharing the unacceptable feelings/qualities onto others, thereby being less alone with it.

"But that sounds.." "Lonely?"

• Self-harm may be used as an alternative to compensating from one's past transgression. Not just physical self-harm but not allowing yourself to enjoy opportunities or benefits as a result of uncompensated guilty feelings.

[always holding himself back for 6k years from saying what he truly feels and won't allow himself to be with Aziraphale the way he really wants]

• Repression is subconsciously blocking or forgetting harmful/traumatic memories. "Right.. looking at where the furniture isn't.." [doesn't remember his time in Heaven in detail- whether from trauma response or just had his memory wiped]

-------=======-------

Behavioral responses to guilt can be associated with the moral of their character. Feelings of guilt can prompt virtuous behavior.

"You shouldn't test them to destruction.."

People who feel guilty may be more likely to: • Exercise restraint [holds his true feelings back for Aziraphale for centuries]

• Avoid self-indulgence [only really has his car and plants in the end]

• Exhibit less prejudice [is more open and accepting of other's sins - such as helping during the Scottish bodysnatching scenes]

-------=======-------

Guilt can prompt reparatory behaviors (actions to make amends) to help alleviate these negative emotions. People tend to engage in these reparatory behaviors toward the persons they wronged. Some religions theorize that forgiveness of sin (even those committed by accident or ignorance) is exclusively through repentance.

Crowley, being the wily serpent that tempted Eve to eat the forbidden apple of knowledge and subsequently getting her and Adam kicked out of paradise on Earth- and thusly creating the first sin of humanity. Right away, Crowley feels guilt from this.

After all, he was just told to stir up some trouble and had no idea the consequences of his first temptation on the future generations of human existence. Ignorantly doing something considered wrong and getting exiled.. this mistake would forever haunt him. He knows the pain and trauma from unwittingly doing something insignificant and being punished severely for it (such as asking questions or eating an apple) yet he accidentally made the first of God's new creatures "fall" in their own way from Eden. It's because of this guilt that Crowley spends the next 6000 years secretly rebelling against Hell to help humanity in any way he can to redeem himself.

-------=======-------

That's why their first conversation (post Fall from Heaven) on the wall of Eden was SO important to their relationship with each other and themselves.

"Oh, I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "It'd be funny if we both got it wrong. If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." "No. No! It wouldn't be funny at all!"

I think the reason Crowley always seems to be one step ahead of Aziraphale (in more ways than one) is because, in a sense, guilt is easier to resolve from than shame.

If you acknowledge your mistake and the person chooses to take the steps to improve and change for the better, then they can recover from those negative feelings. They can work through the guilt by repairing the transgression or learning from it.

Whereas shame can only intensify inwardly and be harder to face because your mind is telling you that you are the bad thing, that you are the mistake. This makes it harder to overcome. And the only way to truly recover from shame is unconditional love and forgiveness- for yourself.

-------=======-------

“Instead of your shame, you shall have double honor, and instead of confusion, they shall rejoice in their portion. Therefore in their land, they shall possess double; everlasting joy shall be theirs.” (Isaiah 61:7)

And in S2.. we can see they both hold regret for their actions at the end of episode 6. If you look at every choice, ever misstep, every argument and their occasional confusion in understanding one another, you can see how Aziraphale was written with shame as a main part of his personality and Crowley written with guilt.

Two feelings that are often confused for one another but differ slightly in their own ways. The motivation behind every word they utter and every action they make throughout the series is built on the foundation of these two fundamentally negative and often traumatizing feelings.

There is a possibility to recover from shame and guilt and I have a feeling that S3's plot line will be all about recovery.

And that's what the concept of that Second Coming storyline might be all about. The New Testament says, "In Jesus Christ, God took upon Himself the sins of the world and died on the cross to pay mankind's debt" (Rom 6:23). "Those who repent and accept Christ's sacrifice for their sins, will be redeemed by God and thus not guilty before Him. They will be granted eternal life which will take effect after the Second Coming of Christ" (1 Thess 4:13–18).

A second chance. Forgiveness and Recovery from Sin.

And what is the story of Adam and Eve if not about humanity's Original Sin?

-------=======-------

Remember, after all is said and done, the antidote for shame is love, and guilt is cured through forgiveness.

Two things a certain Angel and Demon struggle with accepting from each other but are more than willing to give to one another.

-------=======-------

[…There! I made myself sad again, lol. Thank you for reading this far! Sorry it was crazy long but I really enjoyed putting this all together into semi-comprehensible words (though stupid tumblr made me delete a bunch of pictures I had as examples…). Also, on a final side note- if you are ever experiencing overwhelming shame or guilt in anyway (which can result in depression or worse if not dealt with) please make sure you reach out to someone or seek professional help in some way. Take care, everyone! ^-^]

#Good Omens #Good Omens meta #Good Omens theories #Good Omens speculations #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #Crowley #Aziraphale #sorry it's so long.. it was longer #and had more pictures #but stupid tumblr restricted me lol #give me season 3 or give me death #good omens analysis #Neil Gaiman #Terry Pratchett #david tennant #michael sheen #I THINK I CRACKED THE CODE lol

[bittenbyyou]

Inferior Flames (2)

MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader

genre: angst, some comedy, e2l (rivals to lovers really)

description: Your father asks you for another favor: keep an eye on Peter. Yup, this definitely can’t go wrong considering you two aren’t even friends.

word count: 7.4k

warnings: OC has superpowers, OC is a temporary Avenger, references to Spider-Man: Homecoming, MJ, Betty, and Ned are here, fake IDs, clubbing, fight scenes/battle scenes, muscle “enhancers” (dr*gs), burn wounds (nothing too graphic), angst, mentions of death, tension

a/n: Part 2 was highly requested! Please let me know what you think, it really motivates me and all writers. :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Mom said you needed me?”

“Yup. I need another favor, Firefly.”

You stepped into your father’s workshop, admiring the random contraptions cluttered on the work tables. 

“If you want me to build something,” —you picked up a bizarre piece of machinery— “hard pass.”

Tony set down the soldering iron and swiftly plucked the metal from your sticky fingers. A pout formed on your lips when your beloved toy was taken away. “Yeah, no. Last time you nearly blew up the compound.”

“Sorry that I can’t carry on your legacy, pops,” you said, only half-joking. He put down the device and immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into an affectionate side hug. 

“I don’t expect you to, Flameling.” He gave you a smooch on the top of your head. “It’s too much work and your mom’s got it. I would never pressure you to do something you don’t want to.”

You embraced him tightly, closing your eyes to savor the moment. A mix of emotions swirled within you, and the weight of potentially letting him down added heaviness to your heart. His words meant a lot to you and gave you the assurance he would love you no matter what.

“You pressured me to beat Peter,” you joked, breaking the tension. He let you go but kept you at arm’s length, an amused smile spread across his face.

“I think deep down you enjoyed beating the arachnid.”

“Eh. I do hate spiders.”

A mischievous smirk spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but catch a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Well, don’t hate them too much. I’m going to need you to get close to one. The Spiderling to be exact.”

You pushed him off you, shaking your head and firmly crossing your arms in front of your chest, forming an ‘x” shape as a gesture of refusal. “No.”

Your father put on an innocent facade, lifting both of his palms upward as if to say, ‘What?’ 

“Whatever you want me to do with Peter, I refuse. He hates me.”

“Oh, he does not hate you,” your old man assured, waving his hands sideways in a dismissive manner. “The Avengers and I will be out of town for a while. Your mom’s also busy with her business meetings abroad, but I know the authorities will be okay handling things here with Spider-Man’s help.”

“But…?” You pulled up a nearby swivel chair, anticipating this conversation would take longer than expected. Your father copied your actions and sat across from you. 

“I want you to keep an eye on him. Stay close by. You know, just in case he needs help. Be friends.”

“Friends? He’s depressed every time he sees me. All because he thinks I’m an Avenger, which I’m not. If people found out I have powers, I can’t live a normal life.”

“Pfft, you’re my daughter. Your life will never be normal.” You didn’t laugh at his remark, so he leaned back in the chair and let out a ‘hmm’ sound. “You’re not happy. Is that it?”

“I am happy. I love being here. But if people find out I have powers let alone that I’m your daughter, I can’t go to a normal school.”

He started listing reasons to counteract your statement and used his fingers to keep track. 

“1) No one’s going to find out you’re my daughter unless you want them to. 2) You have a suit.” Leaning in closer, he playfully flicked his fingers against the shiny metal bracelet adorning your wrist, creating a delightful tinkling sound that danced through the air. “3) I need you near Peter. 4) If all else fails, you can get your GED.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, putting two and two together. “Wait… is that why Peter’s in so many of my classes? Did you do that?”

Tony simply shrugged. “Coincidence.”

“Dad, I’m not an Avenger. Stop trying to make me one.”

“I’m not. I’m basically asking you to babysit. But I am curious…” His voice took on a more grave tone. “What’s the real reason why you don’t want to be an Avenger? Don’t say school. Don’t say normal life. What is it?”

You casted your gaze downward, your hands fidgeting in your lap while your leg anxiously tapped the ground. The softening of your father’s gaze mirrored the festering guilt within his heart as he saw the evident disappointment on your face. Yes, he may be your father, but there was still so much he didn’t know about you. 

“Hey. Don’t worry about it,” he said, patting your thigh. You looked up to see him getting up out of his chair. “But I am asking you to help Spider-Boy. So will you? How’s school?”

“It’s good. The American TV shows you made me watch were pretty accurate. Except the kids actually look like kids and not adults. Most of them are nice with the exception of some jerks. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“See? You’re perfect for the job. Who else would be mighty enough to tackle the horrors of high school?”

You let out a laugh. “Alright, I’ll do it. But you promise me you’ll come back safe from the mission.”

“You know I break promises often.”

“Promise me you’ll try to come back.”

“That I can do.”

You hopped out of your chair and hugged your father again. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Firefly. Remember, don't do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

It’s been a few weeks since you kept your word about leaving Peter alone. Now were you successful? You’d say about 80% of the time. It’s not like you were completely off his radar as much as you’d try to be.

Chemistry

“Peter, you got a 99 on your chemistry test. Congratulations.” Peter held the test paper in his hands, a proud smile gracing his features. The teacher walked past him and handed your test to you next. “And you got a 100, Ms. [Y/N]. Impressive.”

You saw Peter's intense grip on his test paper, causing it to crinkle right before your eyes.

Gym

“Does she smell nice? I bet she smells nice.” Ned lent his support to Peter by resting his hands at the juncture of Peter's thighs and the undersides of his knees, providing the stability needed for him to execute each sit-up with precision.

“Shut up.”

“Do you know if she has a boyfriend?” 

“Shh.”

“Can I help you beat her?”

“What?”

“I’ll be your guy in the chair telling you where to go. Like where to find the most dangerous criminals. I’d be better than K.A.R.E.N. That way Mr. Stark has to recognize your talent and realize his mistake. You can beat her.”

“Ned, no, shut up.” Peter was speeding up his reps without realizing it, annoyance laced in his tone. “I don’t need to beat her.”

“Looking good, Parker,” Coach Wilson said, pointing a finger at him. Peter immediately slowed down, easing himself down onto the mat with an expression of exertion etched across his face. “You too, [Y/N]. Look at her go!”

“Thanks Coach!” you exclaimed from afar.

Peter's gaze shifted to his left while Ned looked to the right, catching sight of you perched atop the climbing ropes suspended from the ceiling. Flash, who was on the rope beside you, pointed an accusatory finger at you for cheating, suggesting that you started climbing before he did and demanded a rematch. Peter and Ned gave each other a knowing glance. 

“You/I need to beat her,” the boys chorused.

Pre-Calculus

Peter’s mind raced as he calculated and strategized, determined to outpace his opponent, which in this case was you. Both of you gripped the marker tightly as you two meticulously scribbled numbers, your hands dancing across the whiteboard.

There was an electric energy in the air, a palpable tension as you and him worked through the problem. Occasionally, a competitive glare would be exchanged, fueled by the desire to come out on top. As the final calculations fell into place, a triumphant grin from Peter marked the completion of his work.

“Done!” he cried, slamming the marker down into its holder. You continued working diligently, unable to leave a problem unfinished. 

The teacher took a look at the board and shook her head. “Nope. [Y/N]?” 

Peter’s face contorted with a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and a touch of disappointment as the realization of the incorrect math answer settled in.

You got your final answer and set your marker down. “Is this right?”

“Excellent work!” your teacher praised you. “Can you explain why Peter’s answer was incorrect?”

You pointed at the error in his work on the board, giving him a shy smile. “Um… you forgot to factor the 6. Here.”

“Thanks,” Peter grumbled. 

“See Parker, being the fastest isn’t always the best if you are wrong,” Flash called out from the back of the class. Everyone (including the teacher) rolled their eyes at his hypocritical remark, but it affected Peter more than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, you’ve done an excellent job leaving Peter alone. However, with your dad’s latest request, you weren’t sure how to keep an eye on him now without being creepy. 

“What’s your deal, [Y/N]?”

You looked over at the other end of the cafeteria table to see MJ staring at you. Despite her poker face, the intensity of her narrowed eyes left you feeling exposed, as if she possessed the power to unravel your defenses layer by layer.

“Didn’t see you there, MJ…” you said, taking a sip of your water bottle. “I don’t understand your question.”

“You’re staring at Parker. Like, a lot.”

Your eyes darted over to the table that was on the opposite end of the cafeteria from you, hoping MJ’s voice didn’t carry far enough for Peter to hear. Once you saw milk shooting out of Ned’s nostrils and Peter laughing his head off, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“I’m not,” you lied. “Are you into him or something?” MJ scooted down until she was seated across from you, effectively blocking Peter’s face with her own. 

“I’m not obsessed with him; I’m just very observant. If you’re not staring at him, you have no problem sitting with him, right?”

“No!” you shrieked. “Okay, I was staring.”

“I know,” she said, smirking at your easy confession. “You like him?”

“No. I mean, he’s cute, but it’s not like that. Why do you even care?”

“You’re my friend. Aren’t friends supposed to talk about their crushes or whatever?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the declaration. “We’re friends?”

“You’re the only girl that isn’t tone deaf our section. Or are we only friends in choir class?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m honored.”

“Good. Now that we got that out of the way, what are you going to do about Parker?”

“I’m not going to do anything.”

“Aren’t you two friends? Ned announced that pretty clearly on your first day here.”

You groaned while taking a bite of your food, swallowing before replying, “We’re more so… acquaintances. Maybe even rivals.”

“Oh?” MJ leaned forward, curiosity brightening her features. “I love rivalry. Spill.”

“Uh…” You had to come up with something on the fly. “Well, you know how he has the Stark internship?”

“Yeah. He leaves a lot because of it. Dude’s always busy.”

“I might’ve gotten it too. Might’ve even taken it away from him in a way.”

MJ clasped her gaping mouth with her hand, shocked. “No way!”

“Keep it down,” you urged, seeing some students in your vicinity glaring at you both.

“Sorry, but I’m confused. Can’t Mr. Stark have both of you as interns?”

“I mean, he didn’t kick Peter out. It’s more like I got assigned a higher position than him.”

“So he feels inferior.”

“I suppose…”

“Has he been mean to you?”

“No!” you said with your hands up. “Never.”

“Hmm…” MJ said while rubbing her chin in thought. “I’m going to ask again. Why were you staring at him then?”

You bit your lip. “I want to be his friend, but he sorta hates me? I guess.”

She clapped her hands together. “Got it. Get up. Come with me.”

“MJ no,” you hissed, flailing your hands around for her to stop moving. 

“Trust me.”

Reluctant, you grabbed your lunch box and followed her, your heart rate beating so loudly like it was battering around in your chest wanting to pop out.

“Sup losers,” MJ said, taking the seat in front of Ned. You sat next to her, which meant you were in front of Peter. He pressed his lips together tightly, the silent sign of unease not escaping your observant gaze. “[Y/N] has no friends, so we’ll be sitting here from now on.”

“MJ,” you said through gritted teeth. “I have you.”

“I’m sorry, was I hallucinating when you said you wanted to be friends with Parker or…?”

“MJ!”

“Of course we’ll be friends,” Ned said happily. Peter grabbed Ned by wrapping an arm around his shoulder, facing away from you and MJ to whisper-yell at him in private. 

“What are you doing?”

“Keep your friends close and enemies closer. She can’t be as perfect as she seems.”

Peter groaned. “Dude, even her lunch is better than mine. How can she even beat me at lunch?”

“... Because you can’t cook.”

The death glare Peter shot him shut him up real quick. The two of them turned around the same time you and MJ were done talking. He gave you his brightest smile, hands placed on the table with his fingers intertwined like this was a business meeting. 

“Yup. We’d love to be friends,” Peter said. Ned copied his body language and smiled just as brightly. 

“With no ulterior motives,” he added. Peter stomped on his best friend’s foot beneath the table. “Ow!”

“Shut up,” he said in a low voice. You smiled to yourself and high-fived MJ under the table.

Having lunch with you was bearable for the most part. Sometimes MJ would probe him about the Stark Internship and feelings of inferiority would resurface, but at least you didn’t rub it in Peter’s face. You even offered to share your food with him, which he had to admit was delicious. Especially those orange chocolate cookies, ugh. He hated how tasty they were. 

Meanwhile, keeping an eye on Peter proved to be easier than you had thought. He usually went straight home after school or sometimes stopped at his favorite food spot to get some gummy worms and a sandwich. If there was crime going on, it’d be the typical theft or car chase. Nothing you had to personally get involved in.

However, you noticed an unusual pattern in Peter’s behavior a week later and the AI your father gifted you, D.A.W.N (Digital Assistant with Navigational Intelligence) aided in helping you figure out what was going on. You rarely used the AI unless you deemed it to be necessary, wanting to give Peter some privacy because come on, you were already invading it.

You put on the glasses and pressed a button on the side of the frames.

“D.A.W.N, what’s Peter doing with Betty Brant?” you said quietly to yourself while sitting on the football field. The AI zoomed in on Betty and Peter sitting far too close to each other on the bleachers. 

“You sound jealous,” your AI remarked. 

“Can you focus?”

“Certainly. It appears Betty has given Peter a false identification card in exchange for some money.”

“What on earth would Peter need a fake ID for? Is he trying to get alcohol?”

“Would you like me to replay a conversation he and Ned had two days ago? A fake ID was mentioned.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything, D.A.W.N?” 

“You told me not to invade his privacy too much. This conversation took place when they were in the boys’ bathroom.”

You sighed. “I meant unless he’s doing something dangerous. I’m definitely telling Dad you need an upgrade. Please replay the conversation.”

“Ned, guess what?”

“What?”

“I caught this thug destroying city property for no reason and he kept on shouting ‘I’m the best! I’m the champion!’ over and over. He was jacked, like even more than Captain America.”

“No way!”

“Yeah, he definitely was on something because those muscles looked unnatural. I got him to confess that there's an illegal fighting ring going on at this club on the other side of town. Everyone there uses muscle enhancers and it’s killing them. I gotta go take them down before it gets more out of hand.”

“But dude, you’re not old enough. You would need a fake ID.”

“Shoot. Do you know how I would get one?”

“Leave it to me, your guy in the chair at your service.”

“Conversation over,” D.A.W.N stated. 

“Oh my god, he’s crazy! D.A.W.N?”

“Yes?”

“Find me the nearest clothing store. I’m going to need a new outfit.”

Peter kept checking the time on his watch every five minutes, unable to contain his excitement. This mission would be huge because no one knew about it except him. Of course he cared about the innocent lives of people being under the influence and wanting to save them, naturally. But getting credit on something you knew nothing about was the cherry on top.

Once it hit midnight, he opened his window and snuck out, shooting one of his webs at the nearest building. Swinging allowed him to get to the other side of town in no time and he landed in a dark alleyway to fix his hair back into place, making sure his clothes weren’t too wrinkled. 

When he stepped out of the alleyway and made it to the entrance of the club, he noticed there wasn’t a line. The only people outside were two bouncers adorned in black suits. He gulped, singing words of encouragement under his breath.

“Spider-Man, Spider-Man, will he die tonight, yes he might. No, no that’s not right. I can do this.”

Just as he was about to talk to the bouncers, you tapped on his shoulder from behind. He whipped around, his eyes widening to the size of marbles. 

“[Y/N]? Whoa, what—you look gorg—what are you doing here?!”

You gave him a once over in his outfit, trying your best not to ogle. He wore a slim-fitting, black button-down shirt that accentuated his lean physique. His shirt was tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans that hugged his frame comfortably paired with black leather boots. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, giving off a laid-back vibe but all you could see were the veins on his forearms. And his hair? Styled with a casual yet intentional tousled look, making his stupidly handsome face more handsome.

If his goal was to look slightly older, he accomplished it and you had to try your best not to drool. 

“What am I doing here? What about you? You shouldn’t be here!” You leaned in closer, causing his breath to hitch and whispered, “I know about the enhancers.”

Peter leaned back and stared at you, taking in your outfit first and words second. You had chosen a form-fitting sleeveless black jumpsuit paired with a cropped leather jacket in a fiery red shade, symbolizing your powers. For footwear you opted for ankle boots in stiletto heels, which were a pain to wear, but you’d manage. You also did your makeup, making sure to not overdo it and still show off your natural features. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter bluffed once he snapped out of his daze. He pivoted on his heels, coming face to face with the bouncers whose figures resembled towering boulders but with scowls on their faces. “Hey fellas, I know what you’re thinking. This baby face fools a ton of people, but you’re smart enough to know I’m 18, right?”

The men gave a skeptical look to one another, his lie painfully obvious, but before they could apprehend Peter, he whipped out his fake ID from his pocket and showed it to them. 

“We good now?” he asked them, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. While they didn't appear entirely convinced, a sigh escaped them as they motioned for him to proceed. “Thank you. And oh, the girl behind me? She’s basically my stalker and is super crazy obsessed with me.”

“What?!” you shrieked, hands on your hips and fuming. 

“Yeah, she’s kinda in love with me, but I don’t date minors,” he teased, sticking his tongue out a bit at you, relishing in your ire. “She’s a feisty one, so keep an eye on her for me?”

The bouncers apprehended each of your arms, which triggered your fight or flight response. With precision, you targeted specific acupuncture points on their shoulders and chest using your index and middle fingers. Instantly, a wave of paralysis surged through their body, rendering them immobile. They staggered and ultimately collapsed to the ground. Peter blew a small raspberry from his lips.

“Oof… sorry fellas. Told ya she was feisty.” Peter flashed you a mischievous grin before entering the club, not bothering to hold the door open for you. As you stepped into the club's chaotic atmosphere, your senses were immediately overwhelmed by a cascade of stimulation. 

“I’m not in love with you!” you said, shouting over the blaring music. 

“What did you say?!”

“I said I’m not in love with you!”

“I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!” 

Peter left your side and dived into the dense crowd. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, hating how the place reeked of weed and smoke. It was difficult to navigate through the swarm of sweaty bodies and just as you were about to be engulfed fully, Peter reached out and firmly clasped your hand, swiftly pulling you into his embrace. Time seemed to slow down in that moment, each passing second passing feeling like eternity, as he delicately guided your arms to rest around his neck while his hands gently found their place on your waist.

“Bodyguards,” he whispered, his voice serious and husky. “They’re looking at us. Gotta blend in.”

“Right. Blending in… oh boy.” His cologne had your head swimming. You stared into his eyes while swaying to the music, gulping from the intensity of his longing gaze. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Isn’t that what Avengers do? Dangerous things?”

You scoffed at the audacity of this boy. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“How did you even know I’d be here?”

“... Mr. Stark told me to keep an eye on you while he’s out of town.”

Peter poked his tongue against his cheek in disbelief. “So he doesn’t trust me.”

“He just wants to make sure you’re not in over your head.”

“Yeah. By babysitting me through you. And here I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“I do…” you said earnestly. 

“So you were stalking me.”

“Not like I enjoyed it.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“Probably betrayed. Now can we please get out of here? I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“You can leave. I’m staying. There are people dying because of those enhancers and I’m going to put a stop to it.” He let go of your waist once y’all reached the bar, where it was barely quieter than the rest of the club. 

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Do you even have a plan?”

“Pfft. Yeah. Of course. Um…” His eyes settled on an unoccupied beer glass, thinking of ways to create a diversion. His plan was to shoot a web at the glass and propel it at a random dude’s head. However, the webbing took an unexpected turn, adhering onto an innocent woman’s shirt instead. “Uh oh…” Once Peter pulled on the web, the shirt was ripped off, leaving the girl’s boyfriend seething with anger, misdirecting his fury towards the nearest male presence. The unfortunate consequence led to a brawl. 

Peter watched in horror and awe as the whole club erupted into chaos. But hey, at least the bodyguards were occupied. He ran to the back of the club and you followed along. 

You both ended up in a dimly lit hallway, walking side by side in matching tandem. You let out a couple of chortles, trying your best to contain your laughter.

“Don’t say it,” Peter warned. 

“Is your aim always that bad?” you teased.

“I was distracted.”

“By what, the woman’s breasts? At least ask a girl out before you start taking her clothes off. If you’ve ever made it that far, that is.”

Peter’s cheeks reddened. “I’ve asked girls out before.”

“Was that before or after the stripping started?”

“What, are you jealous?”

“No. I don’t date perverts.”

“And I don’t date stalkers.”

You two exchanged friendly smiles before laughing out loud. At the end of the hallway was a door, but you intercepted before Peter could open it, placing your hand on top of his.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“We should go back.”

“Why? We’re so close.”

“What are you going to do exactly? If there really is an illegal fighting ring here, how will you find the goods?”

“Easy. You participate in the illegal fighting while I find them.”

“What?!”

“Listen, I want to prove to Mr. Stark I’m ready for more. This is it. Something bigger than petty bicycle thieves or bank robberies. And you’re stronger than I am. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“And what if I can’t?”

He held you by the shoulders. “Look at me. You can. You’re… pretty incredible. Annoyingly incredible, actually.”

His voice was sincere, eyes shimmering with sweetness. “Had to add in the annoying part, huh?”

“I could’ve left out the incredible part.”

“Then you’d be calling me pretty.”

“You are pretty.” You blinked twice, wondering if you were the only one who heard what he said. When Peter’s face switched to one of realization (which was quite adorable), he let out an awkward cough later. “So will you help me?”

“You’re going to do this even if I say no.”

“Yup. And you’re the one who said it. Mr. Stark wants you to keep an eye on me.”

Peter gave you a toothy grin as he opened the door. Unlike him, you didn’t have a Spider Sense, but your gut was screaming for you to go back. However, he already entered and you knew you had to follow. You tapped on your metal bracelet in a specific way to activate your suit and helmet, letting the magical material envelope your body.

As you entered, boisterous shouts and jeers from a large crowd of people confirmed that you had found the right location. Their hands were gripping wads of cash, flailing it about like lightsticks at a K-Pop concert, all while a chaotic brawl unfurled at the heart of the room.

Once you ventured deeper into the scene, you got a better glimpse at the two challengers, who were almost as big as the Hulk, going at each other relentlessly. Their grunts were arrogant and feral, their eyes blazed with a rage that wasn’t human. 

“Okay Peter… what do I do exactly?” When he didn’t reply, you did a full 360 to confirm he was indeed absent. “I’m going to kill him.”

With the ding of the bell, the brawl had finally come to an end as one challenger collapsed onto the floor. An employee rushed out to drag the loser’s body out of the ring. Up on the second floor was an announcer who had a microphone headset. His upbeat voice boomed throughout the room when he said, “Our undefeated champion!!! Will the next challenger be able to defeat him? Is there anyone out there daring enough to fight him?!”

“Me!” you called out, launching yourself into the fighting ring with a front flip and landing gracefully. Murmurs from the crowd were heard as confusion spread. You ignored remarks about your gender, using it to fuel your determination to show off your skills. 

The announcer tilted his head in confusion. “And who are you, Miss?”

“You can call me Ember.”

An employee rushed over to the announcer, whispering something in his ear. You noticed him nodding in understanding and flashing you a huge grin. “Alrighty! We’re going to have Ember challenge our unbeatable champion tonight!”

You got into a low forward lunge, extending your arm to the side with your palm facing out. One second later, your trusty kung fu spear appeared out of nowhere. If the club didn’t allow weapons, they didn’t say anything. You figured they cared too much about the hype of betting on blood to do something about it.

“Begin!” The bell dinged and you immediately went on the offensive, giving it all you got. 

Meanwhile, Peter ditched his prior outfit so he was only in his suit and mask. He found a vent he could sneak into, navigating his way to finding a hidden room. Through the slits of the vent cover, he spotted a tall man wearing some form of mystical clothing that glowed purple. And the dude had a cape, so Peter inferred that had to be the big bossman. 

There were some bodyguards with the tall man, so Peter waited patiently for you to do your part before he could intervene. He spotted the silver briefcase on the table and noticed glass vials inside containing a powder of sorts. 

“Boss. Ember defeated the champion,” one of the henchmen informed. The boss grinned like he expected that outcome. 

“Excellent. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.”

What? Ember? Is that [Y/N]? Does she know this guy? Peter thought to himself. He had to put his questions on hold because now with the boss gone, he could easily take down the remaining guards and snag the briefcase. Carefully lifting the vent cover, he crawled around on the ceiling, strategically ensnaring each henchmen with intricate webs, one by one. Every move carried purpose and he made sure to time it right to ensure nearby men remained oblivious to his presence. It wasn’t until there was one man left that Peter used a web to descend into the room upside-down.

“Hey man.” The guard whipped around and Peter waved hi. “I’ll be taking that.”

He launched a web at the briefcase and yanked it hard, resulting in it slamming right into the last guy’s face, effectively knocking him unconscious. Peter landed rightside up and held the briefcase close. 

“That was easier than expected.”

It was then he heard people screaming outside when he dashed out to see the commotion. At this point, the crowd of people had diminished and there in the middle of the ring was a girl in a shiny red suit and helmet similar to that of a Power Ranger. Peter sensed it was you, but his sixth sense was more focused on the threat before you. The tall man from earlier transformed into his true self, which was a man with three dragon heads. 

“You’re all grown up now, Ember.”

You pointed your spear at him, prepared to slice him in half. “You ate that man.”

“Yes. And I’m about to devour you next.”

“No, you won’t. That’d be a stupid move on your part.”

The man’s snarl echoed through the air as his three heads snapped toward you, moving in a sinuous and serpentine pattern. You took a defensive stance, twirling your spear with a propeller-like motion to keep your distance from his elongated necks. In that moment, your helmet opened partially and you took a deep breath, feeling the flames ignite in your lungs. You held your spear steady and unleashed a mighty blast of fire, causing the man to cry out in pain from the scorching attack. However, the fire soon dissipated, revealing that the cunning dragon heads had managed to swallow your fire. They were prepared to unleash your own flames back upon you until Peter reacted, swinging into action, his grip tightening around your body as he swiftly whisked you away from the clutches of the menacing demon.

“Spider-Man,” you breathed, stunned by his perfect timing.

“I got you.”

You quickly took notice of the briefcase. “No. Take the case somewhere safe. He’s mine.”

You wriggled free from Peter’s grasp, propelling yourself backward towards the villain, determined to finish the fierce battle. The sharpness in your words, dripping with venom, unsettled him. As he landed near the exit, he made a choice to disregard your request. 

Carelessly discarding the briefcase, his attention was immediately drawn to the sight of you suspended in a mesmerizing electrical orb, hovering midair. 

“Oh Ember… it’s cute you think you can defeat me,” the man taunted. You stabbed the orb repeatedly but to no avail. Each poke only unleashed a surge of electricity throughout your body, making you scream in pain. Seizing the opportunity, Spider-Man executed a flying super kick at one of the dragon’s heads. The blow infuriated the creature, causing it to release its grip on you and you crashed heavily onto the ground with a resounding thud.

“Ow…”

You pushed yourself off the ground to see Peter effortlessly swinging around, pretty much playing a game of tetherball with the dragon—except Peter was the ball in this unconventional match.

"Hey Mr. Dragon, three heads are better than one, but not when they're all after me!"

“Spider-Man, be careful!” you warned. 

As Peter swung around the 3 headed dragon, narrowly avoiding its fiery breath, one of the heads caught him off-guard with a lightning-fast swipe. The impact sent him crashing into a nearby wall, leaving him momentarily disoriented and with a throbbing pain in his side. You rushed over and kneeled on the ground by his side.

“I told you to go!”

“Well, you know,” he said, groaning from trying to sit up. “I have a habit of sticking around.”

The man was growing impatient. His three heads parted their jaws wide, erupting with vivid purple flames as he launched a devastating attack toward both of you. Peter reacted quickly and shielded your body with his own, hugging you in a protective embrace. The searing pain coursed through your bodies, but as the initial shock subsided, you summoned the strength to put up a temporary barrier shield. Peter’s weight pressed upon you as he collapsed and you knew that retreating was necessary. 

You watched as the man withdrew his three dragon heads, assuming his original face once more. “You know what I want, Ember. Give me the pearl.”

“Never.”

With a commanding gesture, you used your hands to bend the earth, causing chunks of concrete to rise from the ground. You hurled the makeshift projectiles at the man with precision. In that fleeting moment, you seized the opportunity to carry Peter to safety. You initially believed he had lost consciousness, but he had enough strength to shoot a web to secure the briefcase, ensuring the mission wasn’t for nothing.

“Are you the Avatar?” he joked in a weak voice.

“Shut up and let’s get out of here.”

You carried Peter back to the Avengers Compound, where there was a dedicated medical facility. However, you were aware whatever was causing Peter pain wasn’t something that could be solved by science. You laid him on his stomach on a medical bed, examining the burn marks all over his back. The heat singed his suit, leaving a patch of reddened skin and irritation. Tender patches of skin glistened with a subtle sheen, evidence of the residual heat that had seared his flesh. 

“Well, I guess my superpower is now officially 'Extra Crispy Spider-Man.' I should probably trademark that before KFC steals it.”

You had half a mind to press your thumb on his burn wounds. “How can you be joking at a time like this?! You’re lucky it’s not more severe.”

You began rummaging through various drawers to find an ointment until Peter interjected with, “But you can heal me. Right?”

You slammed the drawers shut, taking in deep breaths to calm yourself down. He’s right. You could. You hoped you could.

“You idiot. I can only heal minor wounds. These flames aren’t normal,” you informed him. “But I’ll try.”

You extended your hand over Peter’s back, channeling all your energy into a healing aura. The radiant glow from your palm casted a spotlight-like illumination on his injured area. With precise movements, you guided the healing energy around to alleviate his pain. Unfortunately, it only healed a part of the pain and required further care. Not that Peter could tell, he was too busy ahh-ing at the temporary respite.

“That feels nice.”

“It’s not enough, I have to use something else. Wait here while I find it.”

You ran to your designated room at the compound, unlocking your safe to grab a black velvet box. With it in hand, you hurriedly made your way back to Peter.

“What’s that?”

“Something to heal you with.” You opened the box to reveal a luminous pearl the size of a large marble. With it in your palm, you could amplify your powers and fully heal his back. 

“What does that do—oh—OH!—Oh, that’s nice.” He melted into the mattress of the bed and shut his eyes in bliss at the cooling sensation of your healing powers. With the treatment complete, you delicately returned the shimmering pearl to its designated box, taking a moment to regain your composure by sitting down. Peter, now revitalized, got up and instinctively reached back, his hand grazing over the spot where his injury used to be, a look of relief evident on his face. “It even fixed my suit! Wow. What is that?”

“It’s mine,” was all you said, holding it close to your chest.

“Right. Well, thanks, I feel so much better. Oh my god, that was so amazing!” he exclaimed, taking off his mask. “I fought a 3-headed dragon and secured the enhancers. Mr. Stark is going to flip out when I tell him.”

Your helmet vanished with the snap of your fingers. “Peter…”

The boy kept pacing around the room, rambling nonstop. It was as if he had never been injured at all. “You were all like ahhh with your fire breathing and then he slurped it all up like,” —he demonstrated a sucking motion as if he was sipping from a straw—“You’re lucky I was there.”

“Peter look—”

“That was the best mission ever. I get the credit though. Oh, we have to hunt him down and come up with a plan to catch him! We’d probably need a sword, right?”

“Peter!” you shouted, fists clenched. He finally stopped pacing around and stared at you with curious eyes.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you leave when I told you to?”

“That’s a weird way of saying ‘thanks for saving my life Peter’, but okay. Um… I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

His smile was so sweet, yet it pained you greatly. “I could’ve handled it. It was reckless of us to even be there tonight. What’s worse is you got hurt. ”

“Yeah… but you healed me. We did it,” he said, lifting up the briefcase from where he had left it. “I’m fine. We make a pretty good team.”

“No. No we don’t,” you countered. “You got hurt and next time it could be worse. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t risk it.”

You held your head in your hands, hunched over in the chair. 

“You’re grounded. Mr. Stark was right, you’re not ready to be an Avenger.”

He lowered the briefcase and let out a half-hearted laugh. “What?”

You stood up, mustering enough strength to continue. “This mission was too reckless.”

“I don’t understand. The mission was a success. Are you really so against me being an Avenger? Are you threatened by me?”

You let out a frustrated groan. “Will you get it through your head that this isn’t about some competition?”

“It sure doesn’t feel that way to me. You’re already an Avenger and that’s all I want right now. Were you sent to watch me or sabotage my chances?”

Your face twisted into one of hurt. “No!”

“Then why are you being like this?” he asked, pointing his hand at you with his palm facing upward. “God, it must be nice being all perfect. Sorry that I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a chance.”

“I’m not as perfect as you think I am.”

“Yeah. Because I saved your life.”

“I didn’t ask you to save me! You should’ve left!”

“What, do you have a death wish?!”

“No! But I don’t need you to go after him. Stay down. You did great tonight, yes. But it stops here.”

“It’s because you want the credit, huh? I guess me getting the enhancers is one thing but stopping the big boss man is another. Of course. Little Ms. Perfect has to have it all.”

You winced at the impact of his words, feeling a sharp pang of hurt. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I just wanted to be like you,” he said, desperate and sincere. His defeat was palpable, and witnessing it shattered your heart."

“Why?” you breathed. “You don’t want to be like me.”

“Because you have it all. You’re strong. Your powers are far better than anything I can do. I mean, I have to make my own webs. You are your own webs. Which doesn’t make sense, but you know what I mean.”

“Peter…”

“You’re smart,” he continued. “You can cook. You treat others well. Mr. Stark is clearly impressed by you. I’m so jealous and I know I shouldn’t be. But I am. Everyday when I see you, I understand more and more why Mr. Stark chose you. And it hurts. You’re so perfect.”

“Please stop. I’m not perfect.”

“You are.”

You turned your back towards him. “Stop.”

“Why? Why should I? It’s true!”

“Because I’m not an Avenger!” you confessed, hanging your head low while resting your hands on the medical bed. 

“What do you mean? Mr. Stark said—”

“It was a test. He asked me to beat you in our battle so that you’d stop asking about becoming an Avenger. Just until he feels like you’re ready.”

Surprise washes over him as the realization sinks in, followed by a hint of disappointment and perhaps a touch of betrayal. 

“Wow… Mr. Stark really went the extra mile this time. And you agreed to it?”

“Yeah… I did.”

“But if you’re not an Avenger, who are you?” You didn’t know if you should tell him the truth. Peter thought about what the dragon man said to you, how his flames were similar to yours except they were purple while yours were red. “Wait… that guy back there called you ‘Ember.’ Like he knew you. Are you related to him? Is he… your father?”

You spun around to face him, battling your desire to shout at him. “He’s not my father. He killed my birth parents when they sacrificed themselves to save me.”

Realization hit Peter like a tidal wave. This was personal for you. And he said quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve at this point.

“[Y/N]... I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt tonight. I can’t deal with anyone sacrificing themselves for me. Not like this.”

“I wasn’t going to let you get burned to a crisp.”

“And I can’t stand the thought of losing you!”

You two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. “... or losing anyone. I can’t stand the thought of someone dying for me. Not again,” you added quietly.

Peter reached his hand out towards you, but you shied away. “[Y/N], please. Tell me what’s going on.” 

“You’ve done enough. Just leave me alone. And don’t go after him or I promise I will tell Mr. Stark to never consider you for the team.”

“Okay,” he said, retracting his hand back. “But I’d do it all over again.”

“Do what?” you asked, captivated by the sincerity in his eyes.

"I would save you," he declared, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "As many times as it took.”

“I know. Because you’re Spider-Man.”

With a heavy heart, Peter reluctantly put on his mask and silently made his way out of the compound.

Extra a/n: If anyone’s curious, OC’s powers are based on a drama I watched when I was little called The Red Kid (2005) as well as the villain. I also based this chapter Dekaranger episode 26.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are appreciated so, so much! Hope you love this couple as much as I do.  ₍˶ˆ꒳ˆ˶₎✼:♡*ﾟ✿

Tagging: @elicheel​ | @mininjageek |

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker #mcu spiderman #peter parker mcu #peter parker x you #peter parker e2l #peter parker x oc #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #stark!reader #avenger!reader #tom holland peter parker #inferior flames #my writing

[snailsrneat]

Yandere Epel Felmier Headcanons

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

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

Ooooh boy

If he becomes your yandere I feel sorry for you

Epel doesn't really understand his feelings for you fully

All he really understands is that around you his body gets weak and his heart beat rises a lot

In short you make him feel inferior, and he doesn't like that one bit

He despises the way you make him feel.

And he definitely shows his distate for it constantly

He finds that bullying you makes him feel better. Makes him feel superior.

He always makes sure to point out any sort of flaw on your body or clothing, and laughs when you give him a dirty look

He always makes sure to seek you out. Even when you started avoiding him, he kept on actively trying to find you.

He especially loves you give him angry reaction, it adds fuel to his flame.

"Hey nerd! Why do you keep running from me? You scared? Think I'm soo terrifying that you can't even come face me?"

For awhile he thought he hated you, despised you, that was until he saw how close you and Jack were.

You and Jack decided to have lunch alone together outside instead of inside.

Epel had been looking for you, as he always was. The moment he saw you and the wolf-boy sitting so close, your faces less than an inch apart, his body filled with the most intense rage he's ever felt.

Rage so intense he started to physically shake.

Epel stomped all the way back to his dorm room, slammed the door shut, and started to throw the biggest fit in history.

Epel knew that Vil was going to yell at him but he couldn't care less right now, he needed to get all his anger out.

Once he's done with his temper tantrum he sits in the middle of his room, thinking.

Mostly thoughts about you, he could never stop thinking about you.

You with that dumb smile, you with your stupid pretty eyes, you and your shiny hair..

He can't deal with all the emotions going on in his head, but he can realize one thing.

He wants you to be his and he'll do anything to have you.

From that moment forward Epel becomes a lot less rude, he still makes snide remarks from time to time but he's way nicer to you than before.

He still constantly seeks you out too, but it's welcome this time around.

"Hey nerd! You wanna go eat at the monstro lounge after school? Just you and me."

Eventually when you guys get close enough to eachother and you start to open up to him he makes sure to keep notes of everything in a secret dairy he has.

Honestly he takes a lot after Rook.

He keeps notes of your deepest darkest secrets, fears, trauma, literally anything he deems useful blackmail.

Once you guys get close that's when all of your other friends start to get distant.

You don't understand what happened or what you did to make them not like you all of a sudden but you get lonely pretty quick.

Good thing Epel is there to keep you company.

"They did what!? Oh no, don't cry. They never deserved you anyways. I'm still here, remember? I'd never leave you."

He's so extremely possessive he can't let anyone be close to you but him.

He'll even make sure you get a schedule change and everything.

Now you're with him in every class, he couldn't be happier.

If you start failing some classes? Oh don't worry about it Epel can give you his notes.

Even if you start to oppose him and want to get away, you can't.

Why?

Well cause if you do then he'll get upset, and once he gets upset that's when he brings out his pen.

He doesn't want to do this but if you keep threatening that you're going to leave, what else can he do?

Now look at what you did to yourself, all bruised and beaten.

We were so happy then you tried to leave and now look.

"It's better for you to stay here with me. Without me you're too weak to fight even the smallest amount of magic."

"You need me."

#So originally this was supposed to be the entirety of pomefiore #But uhm #I may or may not have gotten carried away when it came to Apple boy #But hey atleast I had fun writing this. #Might write one for Rook #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #epel felmier #epel x reader #Epel headcanons #twst headcanons #Twisted Wonderland headcanons #twst x reader #twst imagines #Yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere epel felmier #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #interactions are appreciated

[hntnsshi]

Voice

Azul Ashengrotto had always have a peculiar fixation with your voice.

You weren't the one to talk much to begin with in public's eye. You answered with either physical gestures, hums, or grunts most of the time. You did talk at times when needed, but you preferred to shut your mouth if you are not familiar with who you were talking to from what Azul observed. It took you some time to be able to adjust working with the Octavinelle dormitory's students at Mostro Lounge because it was 'awkward' for you to communicate openly.

"It's tiring," you complained one day when Floyd nagged why you didn't really talk much if you weren't using yout phone, "I talk only if I have to, but shouldn't you feel grateful that I actually talk a lot with you guys? I love you afterall~" your laugh afterwards was supposed to be irritating, but Azul couldn't do anything but to get flustered merely out of your teasing (even if he knew that was probably only a joke).

Azul has a pretty light pitched voice. Everyone had praised him for his smooth way of talking. Afterall, he had worked hard to appear as a flawless figure in front of people. His expectation could be labeled as high, so he felt no remorse when he confiscated the Ramshackle dorm while stating that you, the magicless prefect, didn't have any royalty blood nor a melodious voice like how the young mermaid princess had to bargain with for a contract. The Octavinelle head dorm didn't feel any guilt whatsoever at that time. It wasn't his fault, you didn't talk much anyway, so he has no expectation towards the strange newcomer.

(Or in short, he was glad that there was an additional inferior mob character that he could crush under his power once again)

But the great seven really wouldn't going to let that slip by, would they? Azul couldn't remember when he started zoning out on his tasks just to focus his hearing senses on your low murmur when you were doing your assignments. He was left breathless when you lowly chuckled, or when you actually could laugh freely around him. And what the lilac young man loved the most, was when you called his name without any formalities each time the both of you were doing Mostro Lounge's paper works in his VIP room.

You couldn't sing, you stumbled upon your sentences a lot, and your intonation was mostly monotonous. But Azul wondered why his heart pounded each time you whispered in a husky way, presence lingering right beside him while your bodies pressed with each other just so you could reveal the true intents of his customers based from your observations.

Jade once sneered at him, enjoying how desperate he was just because you didn't come to the lounge for three days due to a team project with the two Heartslabyul first years.

"How does it feel to be hopeless once again, Azul?" The eel merman taunted, earning sharp glare from his childhood friend, "-oh? What's with the look? I was asking out of curiousity. No need to be that hostile." The sharp grin he sent was unnerving, but Azul was already used to the teal haired student's antics.

His obsession was getting to the point where desperately, Azul decided that making a deal with Idia for the sake of fulfilling his dreams of getting pampered by your voice would be beneficial for his mental health in the long run— which sounded extremely creepy and illogical if the old Azul were to know his intentions. The woes of a lovesick man.

"... You want me to do WHAT exactly?"

"You heard me loud and clear, Idia," Azul's gloved hand was raised to fix his glasses' position, he gazed right to the flame haired senior that was setting up a board game on the table in front of them (he also saw dices, but he would complain about that later after they had started the game), "I would like to ask for your service. Are you worried because I might not give an exchange you desire in return?"

Idia Shroud nervously bit his lip, "n-no, that wasn't what bothers me the most! I don't care much about payments!" He then pointed questioningly at the lilac haired male, "I was asking why would you ask me to make a synthetic voicebank of the prefect! That- isn't that considered as creepy if you don't have their consent?!"

The bespectacled student frowned, "rude," he remarked shortly, "you do not ask questions about your client's personal reasons."

"Yeah, but making a synthetic voicebank out of someone else's voice and not yourself..." Idia gulped, what's wrong with this guy's head? Why would he need someone else's voicebank for? "What are you going to do, Azul? Making the prefect say 'good morning honey' or 'I love you so much, senpai~' so you can hear it without having to meet them directly?".

The Ignihyde head dorm's question wasn't actually serious. He had only seen something like this in his otome games- especially the psychotic obsession ones. Idia didn't think his junior would admit or agree with his statement- it might be for business stuffs? He didn't want to pry further. He didn't know and he didn't want to know.

But the visible red dust on Azul's pale cheeks was enough to proof his blatant questions was pretty much spot on.

Idia paled. Oh for the great seven's sake, this was getting more awkward than it should had been.

#twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #yanz writing #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #reader insert

[mikavlcs]

Blonde

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Despite being opposites, your and Wednesday’s relationship is great. There’s only one problem: you’re not very smart. 

Warnings: you’re stupid, a (bad) attempt at comedy, ooc!wednesday but you guys should be used to that

Word count: 1.1k

Notes: someone asked for a story about a dumb, bubbly reader, i tried my best to deliver. so i hope the anon that requested this enjoys<3

Masterlist

Wednesday had never understood the phrase “opposites attract.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She understood what it meant in a scientific context. Two like magnetic poles repel each other but opposite poles attract. Thus is the Force of Attraction. But she could never grasp what the laws of magnetism had to do with romantic relationships.

Until she met you.

She was introduced to you, rather hesitantly on her part, by Enid. You and Enid were twin flames, two peas in a pod, soul sisters—and all the other stupid phrases Enid used to describe your bond. 

You and Enid were inseparable which meant that you were virtually inescapable for Wednesday.

And she hated it at first—hated you, at first. You were similar to Enid personality-wise, but somehow you managed to be even more bubbly and upbeat than her living rainbow of a roommate.

Wednesday couldn’t stand the way you were always smiling, always waving at and greeting people in the halls or the quad. She despised the way you always complimented everyone around you, including Wednesday. She loathed the fact that your giggles were a constant presence in her life now. And most infuriatingly, she hated the fact that nothing she ever said could phase you.

None of her subtle jabs, scathing insults, or even her most vile threats could dampen your spirits. You were unbreakable in your vivaciousness and in a weird way, she respected that.

But over time, Wednesday came to realize that it wasn’t hatred that brewed in her gut whenever you smiled at her. It wasn’t disgust that painted her cheeks a nearly imperceptible shade of red when you complimented her.

No, it was something else. Something downright reprehensible.

Wednesday…liked you.

She was positively repulsed at first (and to a degree, she still was) but she begrudgingly accepted these feelings and even embraced them when you confessed to experiencing the same terrible affections for her.

So over the months, she got used to your cheerfulness. She adapted to your compliments, your hugs, handholding, cheek kisses, and all the other sickening forms of affection you showed her.

(She would never, under any circumstances admit it, but she dared to say that she even began to enjoy them. Disgusting.)

The only problem she had was that you were…well…not the smartest. Like, at all.

It honestly astounded Wednesday how inept you could be at times. One time in class the teacher was showing a documentary about cavemen and about twenty minutes in, you leaned over and whispered, “How did they get the cameras back there if they hadn’t been invented yet?”

Wednesday could only stare.

She had been cooking with you once, teaching you how to make a traditional Addams family recipe and it called for a pinch of salt. You turned and, completely serious, asked, “Do the measurements of a pinch vary by hand size?”

It was one of the very few times in her life that Wednesday had been rendered completely speechless.

There were other, smaller things you said in passing sometimes that baffled her.

“Wednesday, if you eat peanuts really fast it tastes like peanut butter!”

“Hey, Wen, wouldn’t it be cool if Halloween was on Friday the 13th this year?”

“Wednesday, how do the birds not get confused during daylight savings time?”

It was truly mystifying.

Wednesday couldn’t help but wonder if her insults only never affected you because you simply didn’t understand them.

Surprisingly though, your intellectual inferiority was not a deal breaker for Wednesday. She usually prided herself on not wasting her time with what she deemed the lesser of her species, but with you it was different.

She would even say that, at times, she found it…somewhat cute.

(She shivered in despair the first time she caught herself mentally using that revolting word. The effect you had on her was truly disparaging.)

But that didn’t stop it from being bewildering and even worrying at times, no matter how comical it could be.

Wednesday figured that she would one day happen upon you endangering your life in some way—not on purpose, but because you simply didn’t even realize that you were doing something unsafe.

And, well, she was right.

-

Saturdays were quickly becoming Wednesday’s favorite day of the week.

The two of you had a tradition where you would go to the Weathervane every Saturday morning for a coffee outing then spend the rest of the day in Jericho together. You insisted on calling them “Saturday coffee dates” which Wednesday never approved of, but she didn’t have the heart to tell you to stop.

Like usual, Wednesday went to pick you up from your dorm but, unlike usual, you didn’t answer.

A pang of worry crept up in her stomach, but she pushed it down, deciding to search your dorm to see if you were around anywhere. And indeed, you were.

She found you in the small dorm kitchen. You looked to be fiddling with something—a toaster maybe—and Wednesday went to greet you but you moved over, granting her full view of what was happening. Wednesday’s eyes widened at the sight before her.

You were trying to get something out of the toaster…with a metal fork.

Wednesday immediately ran over and snatched the fork out of your hands. “What are you doing?”

“I-My toast is stuck. I was trying to get it out,” you explained slowly, glancing back and forth between Wednesday and the toaster.

“With a fork?!” She nearly shouted.

“…Yes?” You sounded genuinely perplexed by the panic Wednesday was displaying. Wednesday heaved a sigh.

“Listen,” she began slowly, “you can’t put metal in the toaster because it could cause a short circuit. If that happens, you will get an electric shock or even start a fire. It is extremely dangerous.”

Your eyes widened in realization, mouth dropping open as you leaned your head back. “Ohhhh, yeah I forgot about that.”

Wednesday said nothing, her disbelieving gaze boring into you. You shrunk.

“I-um, thank you. For stopping me,” you sputtered and looked away, cheeks darkening in shame. Against her will, Wednesday’s demeanor softened.

“You’re welcome. Now, how about you leave that,” she looked pointedly at the toaster, “here and I will buy you something to eat at the Weathervane.”

You brightened up instantly. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t serious about it.”

Wednesday felt her lips tug upwards at the way you clapped in excitement.

“Let’s go!” you squealed, your prior shame forgotten as you dragged Wednesday out of the kitchen by the hand.

Wednesday noted how you didn’t drop her hand once you entered the hall, instead interlacing your fingers together while you gleefully greeted every student that passed. The smaller girl was busy glaring at the people you greeted (a balancing act) when you looked back at her.

“I know I’m not the brightest knife in the drawer, but you still love me,” you giggled as you skipped down the halls, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

Wednesday couldn’t even bring herself to correct you.

#fun fact: that halloween line is something i’ve actually said #yes i’m also stupid #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

[creature-wizard]

New Age is a poisoned chalice.

MASSIVE CW for racism and genocide up ahead. So, New Age ultimately goes back to Theosophy, which was primarily founded by Helena Blavatsky. Here's a paragraph Blavatsky wrote herself in her own book The Secret Doctrine: Mankind is obviously divided into God-informed men and lower human creatures. The intellectual difference between the Âryan and other civilized nations and such savages as the South Sea Islanders, is inexplicable on any other grounds. No amount of culture, no generations of training amid civilization, could raise such human specimens as the Bushmen, the Veddhas of Ceylon, and some African tribes, to the same intellectual level as the Âryans, the Semites, and the Turanians so-called. The “Sacred Spark” is missing in them, and it is they who are the only inferior races on the Globe, now happily— owing to the wise adjustment of Nature which ever works in that direction—fast dying out. Verily mankind is “of one blood,” but not of the same essence . We are the hot-house, artificially quickened plants in Nature, having in us a spark, which in them is latent. This is the kind of sentiment the New Age movement came out of, and it's not any better today - New Agers are still simping for genocide, whether they're looking forward to people dying from climate change or eagerly awaiting the day Trump and his loyalists enact a second Holocaust. You don't have to dig very far at all to find videos and blogs expressing these very sentiments. New Agers, by the way, are the people pushing things like: -Soulmates and twin flames -The Law of Attraction/Law of Assumption/Manifestation -"Low vibrational frequency" vs. "high vibrational frequency" -Karmic debt -DNA upgrades/DNA activation/light code activation -Ascension to 5D -The existence of Atlantis, Lemuria, and Mu -Ancient aliens -Starseeds So yeah, watch out for this stuff (it's unfortunately all too common on witchblr and WitchTok), and be aware that though it might look harmless on the surface, it's all rotten underneath.

#helena blavatsky #theosophy #genocide #racism #occult #occultism #esotericism #witchblr #witchtok #spirituality #spiritual eugenics #the secret doctrine

[iberiancadre]

Los cronistas de otros tiempos decían que podía recorrerse Cuba, a todo lo largo, a la sombra de las palmas gigantescas y los bosques frondosos, en los que abundaban la caoba y el cedro, el ébano y los dagames. Se puede todavía admirar las maderas preciosas de Cuba en las mesas y en las ventanas de El Escorial o en las puertas del palacio real de Madrid, pero la invasión cañera hizo arder, en Cuba, con varios fuegos sucesivos, los mejores bosques vírgenes de cuantos antes cubrían su suelo. En los mismos años en que arrasaba su propia floresta, Cuba se convertía en la principal compradora de madera de los Estados Unidos. El cultivo extensivo de la caña, cultivo de rapiña, no sólo implicó la muerte del bosque sino también, a largo plazo, «la muerte de la fabulosa fertilidad de la isla». Los bosques eran entregados a las llamas y la erosión no demoraba en morder los suelos indefensos; miles de arroyos se secaron. Actualmente, el rendimiento por hectáreas de las plantaciones azucareras de Cuba es inferior en más de tres veces al de Perú, y cuatro veces y media menor que el de Hawaii. El riego y la fertilización de la tierra constituyen tareas prioritarias para la revolución cubana. Se están multiplicando las presas hidráulicas, grandes y pequeñas, mientras se canalizan los campos y se diseminan, sobre las castigadas tierras, los abonos.

Las Venas Abiertas de América Latina, Eduardo Galeno

Early chroniclers told of traveling across all of Cuba in the shade of giant palms and through leafy forests abounding in mahogany, cedar, and ebony. Cuba's precious woods may still be admired in the tables and window frames of the Escorial and in the doors of the royal palace in Madrid, but in Cuba the sugarcane invasion sent the best virgin forests up in smoke. In the same years it was destroying its own timberlands, Cuba became the chief purchaser of U.S. timber. The extensive plunder-culture of sugarcane meant not only the death of the forest but also, in the long run, the death of the island's fabulous fertility. With forests surrendered to the flames, erosion soon did its work on the defenseless soil and thousands of streams dried up. The present-day per hectare yield from sugar plantations in Cuba is more than three times lower than in Peru and four and one-half times lower than in Hawaii. Irrigation and fertilization of the land are priority tasks for the Cuban Revolution. Large and small hydraulic dams are multiplying, fields are being irrigated, and fertilizer is being scattered over lands weak from centuries of punishment.

The Open Veins of Latin America, Eduardo Galeno