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violet-eng · 5 months

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You teach Neuvillette what sex between humans is like. | Sub!Neuvillette x dom!fem!reader | NSFW🔞

someone asked for sub!Neuvillette so here I am.

Summary: You have a sort of crush on Neuvillette, and you've discovered that he's actually the Hydro Dragon. So one casual evening at his house, you slowly tempt him, and end up showing him that his horny human physiology isn't just used during mating season like dragons do.

Warnings: +18, reader!dom! Fingering, riding/cowgirl, piv, nipple sucking, unprotected sex.

MDNI

Average of 3k words ig.

🎨: hamusutaaa_ on Instagram

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Fontaine's Iudex had kept his true identity hidden with arduous caution for long enough... so the revelation of his true form had come as quite a shock to you. Neuvillette was the true face of the Hydro Dragon you had heard so much about as a child ... Now it all made sense, the pieces found their place and fit together perfectly. You had never met such a man before, with a cold gaze and unwavering mettle, fierce convictions and indelible fidelity.

That sense of justice that so tormented the Iudex, that detached perception he possessed about humans -as he called them-, his perspicacity and stubbornness, the truthfulness of his actions... all those attitudes and virtues were indeed incapable of coexisting in an entirely human body.

"It must be exhausting for you to have to coexist with creatures you don't know in their entirety" you say looking out the window of his house.

"On the contrary, I find it very enriching. I did not know such complex beings, or at least not with such closeness" he answers from his armchair, while crossing his arms.

"To that curiosity I owe then the constant storm of questions you ask me when you go to my library?" you ask walking towards him, with a slow step and the gaze fixed on his eyes.

While the revelation of Iudex Neuvillette's true form had shocked you, it had not stripped you of your feelings for him, after all, in your eyes he still looked like a human.

Neuvillette swallows saliva, failing to hide his growing anxiety beneath his stoic facade. He drops his gaze on your figure, which is advancing towards him, he runs his gaze over your face, your shoulders, the curve of your waist and hips... and your legs... he imagines them spread apart for him... he would know how to treat you if given the opportunity to...?

"It seems that Chief Justice is undergoing an inner trial" you whisper resting your hands on your hips, tilting them to the side and smiling.

"This human form is very different from my original form y/n" says the Iudex, voice subtly losing the firmness that always accompanies it, "It comes with sensations I am unaware of... and reactions I cannot control."

Having mentioned that, you notice the growing bulge in Neuvillette's pants, along with his flushed cheeks. Is he humiliated?

You can't help but laugh at the image of Fontaine's unyielding Iudex in front of you, erect and ashamed of his new physiology. Neuvillette rests his elbow on the chair and covers his cheeks with a gentle wave of his hand.

"I guess that doesn't happen to dragons often" you say, shortening the distance between the two of you, "you have nothing to be ashamed of, dear Iudex" you add leaning down, taking his hand and kissing the back of it.

He looks away pressing his lips together, turning only his gaze to observe your cleavage, where he can appreciate the shape of your breasts. He immediately regrets it, and berates himself for behaving like a pervert.

"I have to admit," you continue, moving closer to his ear, warm breath brushing against his earlobe, "that I've always wanted to cross certain boundaries of decency when I see you in my library.

"Y/n~," he lets out, stifling a groan, resting his hand against his length, just short of destroying his pants.

"Allow me to show you, Monsieur Neuvillette, that we humans do not only have sex when we are in heat... that we have sex when we want it and with whom we want it," you drop your hand to his, pressing against his throbbing member.

Neuvillette does not know how, in what way you have acted and why he is in his own bed, naked, completely exposed to you, who admire his figure from your position.

You are standing in front of his bed, observing the Iudex's gifted physiology, his elbows resting on the silk sheets, his hair on his scarred shoulders, his member raised, almost suggesting that you are coming to him.

You undress slowly, without taking your eyes off him, first your blouse, your stockings, then your pants and your shoes, remaining in your underwear. You watch Neuvillette, who can't control his breathing and seems to drip a little when he sees the thin fabric covering your breasts and your sex.

He wants you, fuck, he wants you as much as you want him....

"Since when do you have these feelings for me, Monsieur?" you ask as you remove the clasp of your bra.

"I... ah~" the Iudex can't find the words.

"Don't rush..." you reassure him as you undo your panties, which are sliding down your legs to the floor, you push them aside with your foot.

And when you are completely naked in front of him, you notice how he clasps his hands and puckered his lips, he's as instinctive as you thought.

"My dear Neuvillette..." you whisper as you crawl over and sit astride his form, "so pitiful... poor thing, you have nothing to be ashamed of," you say as you stroke his cheek.

You brush aside the strands of silver hair and tuck them behind his ears, admiring the soft fall of his hair, like a waterfall cascading down a mountain.

With your thumb, you caress his cheek, feeling the warmth of his pink, sweaty, smooth skin. His lips, they are thick and wet, begging you to take them and devour them without hesitation. And his eyes... fuck... you've never seen that pleading look in the Iudex, so fervent and devoted, so eager for you to use him at your whim.

How strange to see him in this state, when he is the one who is often in the position of power in court....

"Y/n..." he whispers, his voice cracking and his eyes watering.

"No Monsieur, don't cry... at least not yet, we don't want it to rain," you say, laughing.

You take Neuvillette's hands, much larger than yours, and place them on your thighs, letting him caress the warm skin under his palms. The Iudex lets out a choked moan, arching his back at the shock as his nipples harden.

You guide his hands over your waist and to the base of your breasts, causing him to squeeze the soft flesh and let out a distinct moan. His grip is precise, and the heat of his fingers makes a flame grow in your center.

"May I?" he asks, wetting his lips with his tongue as he stares at your breasts. You nod at his request, surprised at how quickly he catches one of your nipples in his mouth.

He sucks on your nipple like a hungry infant and bites your skin while making guttural and very embarrassing sounds if anyone else could hear. His hands anchor behind your back, shaping your waist under his nails, which dig gently into your skin in ecstasy.

You throw your head back as you guide his head to your other nipple, which also seeks the attention of his desperate tongue.

"Fuck, Iudex," you moan, clutching at his hair, the skill of his mouth was something you did not expect at all, the way his tongue ran along the tip of your nipple and traveled to its base, leaving soft nibbles on the underside of your breast.

Growing ecstasy makes you guide one of his hands to your center, his soft digits brushing the skin of your lower abdomen, the crease between your thighs and your womanhood.

You slide one of his digits between your folds, parting the wet, glistening vestibule. Neuvillette allows himself to feel the elixir flowing from your pussy, bathing his fingers and yours, the sound of the goo flooding his ears, his lobe reddening at the musical he encourages with the rubbing of his fingers against your center.

He is inexperienced, you know, so you help him find your clit, throbbing anxiously for contact, thirsty to be rubbed without propriety.

"Right there, Monsieur~" you whimper, throwing your head back. The pressure of his fingertips on your nub of nerves makes you roll your eyes and bite your lip, the sensation rising in your belly and your pussy aching to feel more of him.

Neuvillette's fingers are clumsy at first, clouded by the sweet song of your muffled moans, and eventually he loses himself in his own pleasure. He regains his composure and becomes quite apprehensive, sliding his fingers from side to side, in circles, at a steady pace, applying light pressure to your clit.

"Am I doing it right?" he whispers, his face pressed to your chest, the heat of his breath hitting your breasts, coated with his saliva.

"You are a... good apprentice, Monsieur~" you hold back the cry caught in your throat, the fruit of his good skill.

You move your hips slowly, back and forth, increasing the contact of his skin against yours, at the same time he accelerates the movement of his fingers, the fluid of your pussy drowning his digits that are about to bring you to your climax.

"Like that, just like that~" you almost shout, clinging to his back, your hips suddenly bucking over his hand, rather vulgarly, like a dog rubbing.

The heat grows in your belly and between your legs, flooding all your femininity, sending electric waves through your legs, fluttering unashamedly around the Iudex's hips.

"Ah! Neuvillette!" you scream as you feel the flame burst out, your nails digging into his shoulders, marking his pale skin, your core contracting and your substance leaving your insides.

Fuck... Did he make you cum just by rubbing your clit?

"It can't be," you whisper. It's the first time something like this has ever happened to you, and you sense confusion on Neuvillette's face.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks, frightened and ready to apologize.

"You have done nothing wrong, my dear Iudex," you say, caressing his cheek, brushing his lower lip with your thumb, circling the softness of that lovely fleshy feature of his that begs for a kiss.

You join your lips to his, it's a wet, passionate kiss, and between each nibble he moans for air. His shy tongue can't resist any longer and intertwines with yours, an erotic dance that reveals the animal side of the oh so subtle Judge.

"You've been a good boy, Neuvillette," you whisper against his lips, "let me show you how good boys like you should be rewarded," you say, pushing his shoulders so that his back slams against the sheets, feeling him almost swallowed by the silk of the sheets.

You lift Neuvillette's arms above his head, trying to grab his wrists with only one hand.

You tilt your head at the image, his muscles tense, sweat running down them, his shoulders defined, with the marks of your nails, and his hands, fingers glistening from the orgasm he just tore from you.

You look down at his length and...what?...you'd swear he wasn't this big a few minutes ago.

"It won't fit," you say to yourself...you've been with big guys before, but this was definitely beyond you. Maybe it's a characteristic of dragons...

"Please...it has to fit," whispers Neuvillette, whose heightened senses have allowed him to hear you, his voice, an almost muffled whimper, choked by his own ecstasy that has crossed his boundaries, completely taking over his human side and showing only his instinctive side.

"I'm going to ride you, Neuvillette, like you'll never be ridden again in your life," you interject abruptly, the words leaving your lips in a frenzy of anguish whipped by desire, the thought of having his thick cock inside you was eating away at your mind.

Your hand is not enough to cradle the base of his member, the fingers remaining spread even as you raise and lower your hand up and down its length. You align his throbbing manhood with your entrance, your pussy contracting against the nothingness in anticipation of what awaits you, your juices rewetting your center.

His cock slides in slowly, parting you completely, with inordinate amplitude. Your walls contract at the colossal invasion, and a moan falls from your lips, almost like a sob.

"So~" Neuvillette moans, his chest rising and falling in desperation, the sensation of his cock being devoured by your hungry pussy driving him wild. "So tight."

This provokes nothing more in you but your lust takes over completely, ignoring the pain, you let yourself fall all over Neuvillette's hips, his cock penetrating your depths, hitting that spot on your cervix that feels oh so fucking good.

You continue to squeeze him and he can only let out a grunt of pleasure, feeling that little pussy all to himself, gripping his length completely, you had been brave to take that risk.

Fuck. What a good time the Iudex was having.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, eyes closed and lips parted, lost in the pleasure you were provoking in him, the way you were using him to your advantage, he had never been in a position like this before, he was always the one....

"Fuck, y/n!" his thoughts were shot down by the circular movement of your hips, the friction of his member against your walls, the oil bathing you both, the sweat falling on your breasts, you are a goddess to him and you ride him like one.

The Judge was vocal, fucking vocal, the jerky movements of your hips, the way you jump on his member, tearing loud moans from his lips, hoarse howls, deep, raspy moans. Your name, overflowing from his bruised throat, makes you move with greater speed, resting your hands on his pecs, nails marking his skin again, making him yours and yours alone.

"Tell me you like the way I ride you," you command, your movements relentless, merciless.

"I~" he babbles, "I like the way you ride me y/n~" he flatters.

Neuvillette becomes a storm of praise as you bend further over him, giving him as much access to your loins as possible. He clings to the sheets, hiding his face in his shoulder.

"Say you're mine," you whisper, your hand around his throat, forcing him to look into your eyes.

"But..." he hesitates. The Hydro dragon cannot belong to anyone, especially a human, it disturbs the free and wild nature of its kind... that means shame and...

"Why do you stop moving?" he asks, almost like a small child, terribly worried.

"I won't let you cum until you tell me..." you say flatly, almost coldly, your gaze hard, almost unrecognizable.

"Please," Neuvillette pleads, grabbing your hips and trying to move them in a pathetic attempt at self-pleasure. "Y/n!," he begs fervently.

Neuvillette is not humiliated by the situation as he thought, damn it... this attitude of yours does nothing but turn him on beyond measure, drowning his insides in flames of desire, of desire to belong to you, to ignore his nature and abandon everything just for you, for your pussy that takes him so well.

"I belong to you, completely, for eternity. My being does not deserve a lover as fervent as you, I refuse to disappoint you in the future, to disappoint or deny you. My fidelity is totally pervaded by you, by your wishes and commands. My dearest y/n, you are my lover, the only one on this earth who can have control over me," he pauses, waiting for you to respond in some way to his plea.

Hours have passed and Neuvillette continues to cum in your insides. His eyes are rolled back, completely empty, tearful, he has come out of himself, your movements have brought him to paradise.

Outside, Fontaine is inundated by torrential rain, the inhabitants unaware that the rain is not due to the season, but to the fact that their respectable judge is getting the fuck of his life.

It's almost inhuman what you've endured on his cock, but the way his seed overflows inside you has proven to be addictive. He is addictive.

"Neuvillette~" you moan, resting your hands on his knees, his tip abusing your G-spot, your pussy inflamed from the abuse of the last few hours.

"I think I'm going to... Ah!~" your last moan is almost a cry of desperation, your I don't know how many orgasms of the night have overtaken you, and this time it is indeed your last.

You let yourself fall onto your lover, who wraps you in a warm, trembling, restless embrace, stroking your hair and your back. You hear the raindrops on the roof of the house, and you lean on your hands to look into Neuvillette's eyes.

You gently wipe away his tears, kissing his cheeks and the remnants of the sobs that the pleasure you gave him caused him.

"Why didn't you do this before?" the judge asks.

"I didn't have the courage," you answer, falling back to rest on his chest, exhausted as he is.

Your heart beats slowly, your muscles succumb to the abuse and your eyes close, lulled by the soft fall of the rain.

"We should do it again tomorrow," the Iudex says.

"Judge's orders?" you ask teasing.

"Tomorrow I'll show you how the hydrodragon fucks that little pussy of yours, " he decrees, his voice firm, the one he uses to deliver the verdict during trials, "you won't be able to walk for days".

#neuvilette smut #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette #neuvilette fanart #neuvilette genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact

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heartpascal · 10 months

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or is it loneliness?

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

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

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

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

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

MASTERLIST , part one

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you to deny her that?

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

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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

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

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

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

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

Who do these people think they are?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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aphroditelovesu · 4 months

Text

Yandere Akatsuki Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ — 🍥 lady l: something I thought about for a while and decided to do it now. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️🖤

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of death, yandere themes, stalking and jealousy.

❝🍥pairing: platonic yandere!akatsuki x gender neutral!reader.

Becoming part of Akatsuki was an important decision and one you knew shouldn't be made lightly. They were wanted and dangerous criminals. Once you decided to join, there would be no going back.

You were not innocent, you had already killed and committed some minor crimes and you were a well-trained ninja. That's why you decided to join Akatsuki. You just didn't know that your life would turn out completely different than you initially thought it would.

Pain was a little wary of allowing you to join Akatsuki, as not only did you not have a little-known reputation but there was something about you that unnerved him. That attracts him. But he decided to agree, after talking to Konan.

That's how you joined the world's most wanted ninja, Akatsuki and became their obsession.

Pain is the leader of Akatsuki and has a god complex. He is serious and distant, rarely approaching other members except to give him missions or orders. However, when he is Nagato he is totally different. Kind and shy. You and Konan are the only people who really know him as Nagato.

Regardless of your identity, he is very protective of you. He sees you as something good, as one of the few remnants of goodness, even if you are a criminal, you are still better than everyone. Besides being quite possessive of you. He wants to become a God and he will, but he sees no point in becoming one if you are not by his side.

Konan possessed a calmness, an admirable and frightening control. She has enviable self-control and this is visible in the way she deals with you. She is very calm around you, offering a kind smile and seeking any form of affection she can get from you.

She is desperate for affection, but she will never admit it. Konan is very intelligent and knows how to manipulate you. Stoic and cold-blooded, she will kill anyone who gets in her way, in your life other than herself and the other members. She takes whatever time she can have by your side.

Tobi has lost a lot during his life and these losses have shaped him into who he is today. He never expected to get attached to someone again, to love someone else after being deprived of someone he loved. This made him paranoid and very overprotective of you. Obito already lost someone he loved once, he won't lose you too.

He is introverted, however, and tries to avoid social interactions with the other Akatsuki members as much as possible, but with you, he is more sociable. Tobi is very possessive and always has one eye on you, especially when you are around the other members.

Itachi is calm and reserved, his feelings for you, the obsession he harbors, are very well hidden behind his mask. Not even the other members know Itachi very well, as he is enigmatic and mysterious. He deals with you the same way he does with everyone else, calmly and without showing much of how he feels. This makes you more distant.

However, he is not a really bad person. He did bad things, things he will regret. He sees a second chance in you, he trusts his intuition and you a lot. Itachi has a strong sense of empathy towards you and he is the one who notices the most if you are uncomfortable or upset about something, usually offering you comfort. He is possessive, however, because he has already lost a lot and wants your attention to him.

Kisame is a tailless tailed beast, a shark in humanoid form and he has strong predator instincts. He is very aggressive and can often be dominated by his bloodlust and desire for death, but he knows how to control himself when he wants to or when ordered to do so. You are one of the few people who can convince him to have mercy.

He's very perceptive, though. Kisame is always on alert and is aware of any danger and his first reaction is to take you away from danger. He is very protective and is also great at analyzing people and will know when you are bad.

Kakuzu only cares about money and himself, an avaricious and greedy man. He used to be like that until you joined Akatsuki and he started to care about you, but like a possession. Something that belonged to him, something to be controlled.

He often says that you can only trust him and money, the only two things you can rely on. Kakuzu is very attached to you and cares in his own way. He has a violent temper and becomes obsessed easily and you are his biggest obsession. He gets jealous very easily and reacts harshly to it.

Zetsu is a duality and only a manipulation, a difficult one to read and understand. White Zetsu is the easiest to deal with, he is playful and carefree, and he loves to tease others. He is very calm and loves to have fun with you, but he is very protective of you and although he doesn't usually use violence, he will.

Black Zetsu is the real problem. He is very intelligent and is the real brain behind many plans, serious and experienced. He is a great manipulator, appearing trustworthy and loyal, but his true loyalty is unknown to you. He is very possessive and a born stalker and will kill anyone who gets too close to you. He gets into several conflicts with White Zetsu because of this.

Deidara is extremely proud and fully believes that the greatest art form is destruction. He does not accept defeat and will always seek revenge. He is very reckless and even impulsive, often acting without thinking and that includes you. But he is not stupid, but rather calculating.

He is easily jealous and no one can insult you around him, as he will go crazy and be willing to sacrifice even himself to destroy the offender. Deidara protects you fiercely and his possessiveness leads him to states of madness that only you or Sasori can control. His favorite activity is the art of explosion with you.

Sasori is devoid of any human emotion, has no feelings of affection and is even considered inhuman. He doesn't feel anything, he never cared about anyone or anything, until he met you. Cold and distant, Sasori just watches from afar, preferring to keep his attention on his puppets.

You made him feel something for the first time in years, someone he could finally have the love he always wanted as a child. Sasori, although distant, still stays close to you when it suits him. He became possessive, even threatening the other Akatsuki members over you. He doesn't care about anything or anyone except you. And he won't let you be taken from him. Even if he has to turn you into a puppet. You will stay together.

Hidan has no respect for anything or anyone, insulting everything and everyone that suits him. Not even his own leader is safe from his insults, considering he doesn't respect him at all. Although a religious ninja, Hidan acts in a manner completely contrary to a religious person. He kills everything and everyone without any remorse.

He is quite easygoing towards you, his insults are never directed at you and he will eviscerate anyone who dares to insult you. Hidan is a sadist, finding pleasure in causing pain and killing his victims in the most painful way possible. He definitely wants to teach you how to be like him.

Akatsuki became more united when you joined and although there will always be conflicts between them, you became the missing piece. Pain would never let you leave, not when you were true peace. You're stuck with them forever.

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kafus · 6 months

Note

i wont feel offended if you ignore this ask btw, i get that its asking something kind of personal! but can i ask what you mean by the internet treating DID as magical?

hi i actually enjoy DID questions don't worry LOL and i'm in the mood rn

when most people think about DID they are usually thinking about very overt cases with very distinct alters with vastly different personalities, different names, gender identities, etc. while this is a popular angle to imagine DID, overt cases like that are actually a pretty small percentage of what DID tends to look like. (of course, social media can push people's presentation to become more overt, which isn't fake/bad or anything, humans are social animals and the way we interact with each other can affect even our mental illnesses. additionally some people will become more overt after receiving therapy while they start communicating with alters for the first time. but my point is DID is not usually that strikingly obvious)

this popular perception also leaves out a lot of the rest of DID which falls in line with what people consider more "typical" disorders, PTSD symptoms galore, dissociation/dissociative amnesia, somatic pains and illness, comorbid conditions and physical disabilities. i think if people had more of an understanding of the non-alter parts of DID, it would ground the disorder a lot more and make it a lot less "magical" seeming.

but overall it all comes back to like... people not understanding that DID is just an extension of PTSD and other parts-based disorders. the same psychological process that makes PTSD/C-PTSD happen, BPD, etc, is what causes DID, it's just pushed to a far extreme due to when the trauma is experienced (very early childhood) and other factors surrounding that trauma, such as the length of time the trauma occurred over, or whether or not the child had stable caregivers and/or relief from traumatic events. DID is not some sort of completely separate category of mental illness - alters (the DID definition of them) may be unique to DID, but they come from the same place a ton of other mental illnesses do and there's a ton of overlapping symptoms between DID and pretty much every disorder caused by trauma.

i often see people act like DID is some far off life experience they couldn't even fathom or imagine living with, but if anyone just actually explained this shit properly i'm pretty sure most people, especially traumatized people, would go "oh that makes sense" and not feel so estranged from it lol. it's really frustrating because people continuing to see DID as this sort of magical, far-off experience, takes the disability/disorder out of it in conversation about it (people can only ever seem to talk about alters) and it also usually ends up spreading misinformation at the same time. there's sooo much bullshit about DID out there. good grief. it even hurts other people with trauma-based conditions that aren't DID

edit: wait also btw OSDD-1 is included in this conversation, i'm just using DID as shorthand instead of typing DID/OSDD every time and i am personally diagnosed with DID so lol

#kiki was here #asks #anonymous #by the way this isn't exclusive to singlets or whatever #other people w DID can be just as misinformed #or have lack of understanding of why their disorder is the way it is #lived experience alone is not education #i have been there before lol

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bg3-npc · 7 months

Text

No no no no thinking about how Wyll’s devil form did more than just change his appearance

Mizora altered the world’s perception of Wyll too. His name was already tarnished, but The Blade of The Frontiers was making progress. Seven years since his exile, he’s literally gone from a teen to an adult, it’s no effort to be unrecognizable. He could use his positive reputation as The Blade to help diminish negative associations with his title before he revealed himself. He could hide. Mizora has now made sure he’ll never be capable of hiding, in any form, ever again. He’s a devil. He’s The Duke’s exiled, demon-bound son. The Duke’s exiled, demon-bound son is now a devil. He could explain himself, but people would have to be willing to put their judgments aside first. He’s perceived as fallen before he’s even had a chance to make a stand. Yet another obstacle to in an effort to connect with those he’s sworn to protect.

Not to mention relearning his body! Aesthetically, anatomically, biologically, and physiologically Wyll has been changed. It’s not just his appearance that’s foreign, it’s his entire body. Skilled movements that worked in the past might not work now. He no longer desires common foods. Depending on his present company’s opinions on one’s diet, even meals will be difficult now. He even has a line where he says his genitals are different! Yeah it’s meant to be funny, but think about it for half a second. It’s one thing to have a weird dick cause you asked for it. It’s another for it to be altered entirely without your consent. One of the most physically intimate parts of himself, the most intimate body part to share with someone, is now foreign to him. God even a free resource of solo pleasure is different. He was already avoiding intimacy because of his sending stone eye. Wyll doesn’t even have privacy, he’s in a constant state of surveillance!

As soon as Wyll starts to figure out and establish who he is, something (usually someone) demolishes it and puts him even further back. How many more times will he have to start over? How many more times will he have a part of himself stripped away? How much more does he have left until he’s just a title, not an individual? How long before he surrenders any form of identity or autonomy? How can you pick yourself back up when there are no pieces of yourself left? How many more times can you break someone down before there’s nothing left to rebuild?

Why let people get close to you when you could be different in the blink of an eye? Why get close to people when you’d have to constantly prove who you are, that you’re still you? Why form any connections at all when identity can be taken from you in an instant? What’s the point of even having an identity? Every time Wyll sees his reflection, he doesn’t see himself anymore.

Hey Larian what the FUCK did you make this man out of, why is he doing this to me

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #astarion #mine #anyway i need to be sedated

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msfantasy-comics · 7 months

Text

The Opposites Attract

Dick Grayson x Reader

Summary: A Head Cannon on which Dick Grayson and Y/n oppose each other yet remain wholly compatible.

Warning: Y/n is depicted as angsty and a little feral.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Opposites attract they say.

Yet Dick and Y/n are such polar opposites surely their difference outweigh each other.

Despite it all, the two love birds gravitate each other due to their completing differences.

Extrovert vs. Introvert

Dick is insanely outgoing and is recharged by socialising. His perfect setting is in a crowded rowdy rooms where the conversation moves like wildfire. Wild and Abrupt.

Y/n on the other hand, prefers a quite space with one-on-one conversations.

In typical extraverted fashion. Dick adopts the introverted Y/n and encourages her to step outside her comfort zone and talk to others.

But it’s just not in her nature.

How the hell are you meant to jump into a conversation?

How are you meant to have a say on a topic when three other people are talking over each other to get their 2 cents in?

You gave up almost immediately and retreated back to your safe corner always from the shoulder bashing and elbow jabbing walk way.

Dick was initially disappointed to see you give up so quickly until he noticed that you were carrying on your socialising in your own way.

You sat silently as strangers poured their heart out to you.

Silently nodding and humming in agreement every now and then before the person sighed, thanked you for listening and walked off.

Dick really admires that about you.

Dick: “Need some company.”

Y/n: “Only if you bring me the good vibes.”

Optimist vs. Pessimist

Dick is a buzzing bundle of bountiful energy.

Dick is never short on absurdly positive outcomes despite all odds indicating otherwise.

Why live in a delusional state? You know the realities of life.

And the reality is that life can be shit and it doesn’t turn out well for everyone no matter how much they try or desperately scramble to achieve their hopes.

Hope is pointless.

There is just something obnoxiously wonderful about Dick.

How is it that your boy wonder lights a flame in you that fills you with certainty that all will be right as long as he is here?

You greatly admire how infectious Dicks positivity can be.

Y/n: “Why keep sending them to Arkham only to escape and ruin lives? Might as well just put an end to their burdensome presence.”

Dick: “Oh honey nooooo. Everyone deserves a chance at redemption. Snuffing out the life of a person doesn’t solve the root of the issue.”

Y/n: “Who cares! Nothing matters in the end anyway, we will all die and become obsolete. Only to let the next generation bitch and moan about the inequality of it all.”

Dick: “Ah, my precious little sunshine can be such a downer, yes you can.”

*Condescendingly pinches cheeks*

Secretive vs. Open

Dick just wants the best of both worlds.

To be the figure head for heroism, hope, peace and safety, without an of the consequences of having your image publicly known.

Dick would never want to endanger the lives of those around him due to his passions in crime fighting.

Therefore, he must maintain the secrecy of the bat and the mask.

You, however, don’t understand how or why your boy wonder hides his true identity.

It’s not like Dick Grayson is an every day normal civilian.

He’s a fricken heir to Gotham wealthiest philanthropist.

It’s not like he doesn’t have any privacy on either alter egos.

But the Bats secret is not your own to share.

So instead you live freely by your own rules.

You admit your identities and aren’t afraid to show the public your true self.

You honestly couldn’t care less about public perception.

Dick, admires your unapologetic lifestyle.

Aggressive Random: “You shouldn’t -“

Y/n: “Piss Off- no one asked you.”

Dick: “Ah sweetie… maybe you should listen to what they have to say.”

Y/n: “I couldn’t give a rats!”

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emblazons · 3 months

Text

"Dustin's non-conformist plot keeping him ideologically separate from his friends and Steve is something they just introduced in S4, idk why they would make him different than his OG self and then finally give him a plot related only to losing Eddie in S5" yeah...no.

Let's take a stroll through canon and talk about it.

forewarning: long / image heavy post

The lead up to Dustin hitting a "wall" about his non-conformity has worked its way into all the seasons leading up to this one in EXTREMELY clear ways, even outside of Eddie. Eddie is just the tipping point for that bent toward non-conformity traumatizing him.

Dustin was one of the FIRST of the party to experience a desire to conform, which we saw when he got to know Steve, and then tired to emulate him using Steve's hair spray & embracing his (toxic) ideology about girls—

—until he backed away from the "lie" of conformist confidence he was trying to project (post-rejection) & ended up encouraged by Nancy...and seeing how that upset the shallow girls even more.

We start S3 with that "lesson learned" and immediately end up with a Dustin who calls people out on their bullshit in S3 and S4 when they were behaving like 'conformists' in regards to their romantic relationships + is true to himself in romance and his interests—

—who then in Season 4 finds a specific kind of kinship with Eddie in particular, because he embraced the "non-conformity" in a way none of his friends had on the same level (including Mike in his own way).

Dustin found kinship with Eddie not just because he looked up to him, but because he reflected back his own personality. They bonded over something Dustin had already learned for himself (that behaving in a way that is dishonest to your true self is not how you should go about your life) and held to it even to the point of challenging his best friends—

—only to immediately lose him and that kinship in the most brutal way possible, when Eddie finds out about the supernatural shit that has been haunting him in secret and helps him fight it....only to then die right in front of his eyes.

Like. Let's be so honest with ourselves. As brutal as him losing Steve (king of high school, struggling EVEN NOW because he doesn't know how to be his authentic self) would be...it would not have even a modicum of the same effect on him given his current self-perception. It would hurt, lets be clear...but it's not tied to his own sense of identity the way Eddie had become, and we even see it in how Dustin regularly calls Steve's mindset and his behaviors foolish throughout S3-S4.

The loss of Eddie ties into Dustin's sense of himself in a way that has been building up for 3/4 of the seasons we've had so far—and him being left with Eddie's last words to continue that non-conformity as the impetus for him feeling isolated from his remaining friends while being haunted by Vecna makes perfect sense narratively if you think about Dustin as a character on his own.

just...you know. Some food for thought lmao

#Idk why I'm ON ONE about ST today. I think the majority of the people have forgotten how I know this show BACK AND FORTH outside of byler #also...here you are Bre. as promised LMFAOOO #eddie munson #dustin henderson #my st commentary #stranger things

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drchucktingle · 1 year

Note

any thoughts on the theory that you're chris pine?

i do not FULLY endorse buds trying to figure out identity of chuck because in many ways this would be outing someones sexuality and neurodivergence. when this pink bag over my dang head is off my bi way (and autistic way) are not outwardly visible, and while i would certainly say with pride YES THIS IS MY WAY to a close bud who asked, it is a very different journey in public.

however this has changed over time as i have gotten louder and louder in my bisexual way outside of chuck. i am more comfortable and one day we might chat without this mask who knows. maybe right before i board the lonesome train in many decades.

anyway ALL THAT SAID the chris pine theory is something that i find very moving and touches my heart. chuck said on twitter a while back why and i think i summed it up pretty well so i will post screenshots here

i just find it very powerful to see that perception of autistic buds like myself has changed to the point where buds will say 'yes chuck could be this sex symbol'. i think this proves love.

ANYWAY it is complicated issue and DEEP DIVES should probably not happen but maybe a surface skim for a little bit of fun is okay.

LOVE IS REAL thank you for question

#chris pine #chuck tingle #theory #love is real #tingleverse #star trek #autism #autistic #bisexual #bi #outing #identity

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torasplanet · 4 months

Text

❝𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝘼 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙔 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀.ᐟ❞

A. ARLERT + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you think armin's the sweetest boy on campus until you learn he's just like his stupid frat boy friends but it still doesn't drive you away from him. if anything it draws you closer.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, toxic!armin, college au, armin is lowkey a gaslighter, drinking, smoking, weed, degradation, praise, slut-shaming, false rumors, scumbag!eren, scumbag!connie mention of historia x ymir, couch sex, oral(m receiving), p in v, recording, mean!armin, orgasm denial, unprotected, relations between jean and reader hinted, arguing, gaslighting ig??, crying, dacryphilia, kinda manipulation, petnames(pretty, baby, slut), threat of leaking nudes, mirror sex??, kinda messy so don't mind if ur confused, skin color not mentioned

Armin Arlert was probably the sweetest boy on the entire college campus.

It was weird that he hung out with all the jerk frat boys like Connie, Eren, and Reiner despite his good reputation but anytime anyone asked, he’d tell them that they were childhood friends and they understood. You can’t really just ditch someone you’ve known since childhood over some stupid choice of the type of person they are in college so no matter who Armin associated himself with, everyone always saw him as the sweet little blonde who was a bookworm and cared about his grades more than anything.

Well, everyone that didn’t really know him thought that. All the people who were close to Armin knew that he wasn’t any of that, not anymore at least. Yes, Armin was kinder than any of them but he wasn’t a sweetheart. Just as Eren and Connie would meet up to smoke and talk about all the girls they fucked, Armin would be right next to them laughing evilly and rolling blunts, not that he let anyone know it. It was much easier for Armin to let people believe that false perception of him being innocent and an angel than being just like Eren, made it easier to get girls too.

You were one of the few people who knew this and at first, it freaked you out but you learned to adjust to it and you were right on his lap whenever he was with his frat boy friends lighting the blunt between his lips like the good girl you wanted to be for him, the good boy that just wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was.

But there’s always a part in you that wish you knew all of this before you truly got to know Armin or at least got to know it in a different way…not after being labeled campus slut by him and his stupid fucking frat friends.

It started off so simple, you just saw Armin at a party, one of Connie’s parties, and thought he looked cuter than ever and plus he had helped you on one of your tests before so you did owe him a bunch.

“Oh shit! Fuck!” Armin shouted leaning back on his palms and throwing his head back making his blonde strands fly everywhere, the blonde strands were identical to the bush on his pelvis that your nose was planted in except for the curliness of his pubes. Your hands held onto his thighs to support yourself as you continued to stare up at him through your lashes with his cock stuffed in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time you bobbed your head making you gag.

His blue eyes darted down to meet yours as redness flushed the color of his face. It didn’t matter how badly Armin acted behind the scenes or what he said, there would always be moments where he was just so submissive especially when he was getting the best head he’d ever gotten in a while “Don’t look at me like that.” He whimpered out embarrassedly closing his eyes not wanting to look at you as it made him more flustered than he was.

Armin would never say this, well not to your face but from the moment you walked up to him at that party, he thought you were a slut. The way you looked at him, how you talked, that filthy fucking smile on your face, it just told him that you wanted him to fuck you or at least wanted dick from him in any way you could get it.

Wasn’t like he was really surprised though, he’s heard the shit that you’ve done. Fucking Jean, fucking Connie and this one was probably false but the fact that the rumor even existed in the first place, gave Armin reasons to believe you were a grade-A slut. He knew how girls talked and how they would especially go out of their way to say bad shit about girls they didn’t like but Connie would say how it was true a lot so he kind of believed it. Armin thought you were too pretty to be such a slut. Well, a campus slut anyway.

“Fuck pretty…gonna make me cum…” Armin’s moans were so gorgeous, just like you thought they would be. As Armin got closer to the edge, he pulled out of your mouth and sprayed his cum all over your face making sure you closed your eyes before he did it so you wouldn’t get any in your eye. He admired the look of your lovely face covered in the leftovers of his orgasm and smiled sweetly down at you.

The cum that landed on the tip of your tongue tasted so sweet, it was only right that a boy as sweet as him has a sweet taste too. You’ve thought about what it’d taste like for almost forever but maybe you should’ve thought way more about it because just because someone’s cum tastes nice doesn’t mean they are.

Unfortunately, you weren’t going to get this until a few days later when girls started looking at you like you were walking around naked and so were the guys but you really wouldn’t get what was going on until Hitch told you.

Connie and Reiner were going around telling everyone how you blew Armin at the party and had to go to the bathroom to wipe the remains of it off your face and you didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time those guys have told people you fucked someone whether you did or didn’t but it only really did start to bother you when Armin didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything to you regarding the situation, he didn’t tell people to stop talking about it in the class you two shared, and he merely chuckled when he heard a girl call you the frat slut and mention how you probably have made your way around the entire frat house.

That pissed you off.

You knew it was true that you had sucked off Armin and you can’t really say much when it’s the truth being whispered into everyone’s ears behind your back and right in front of your face but when everyone was constantly insulting you, you at least expected Armin the sweetheart, Armin the kindest boy ever to say something to them or at least his friends for spreading it around. Why the fuck did he even tell them in the first place because no one saw you two leave that room and no one saw you go in the room with him, only walking up the stairs.

Fuck what everyone said about Armin being nice, about Armin being kind, about Armin being the sweetest boy ever because he was not. Nice boys don’t kiss and tell, nice boys don’t let people insult you when he wanted his dick sucked just as much as you wanted to suck it and Nice boys certainly don’t let their friends tell the whole fucking world and their mama that you sucked their dick once at a party.

Armin was not a nice boy and he wasn’t going to just get away with that shit without you saying a damn word and if he thought he would, he was fucking stupid. I mean he saw what you did to Connie after you heard he was agreeing with the false rumor, he even winced when you slapped the shit out of his friend and commented on how red Connie’s cheek was. If he thought you weren’t going to do that to him because he was ‘nice’, he wasn’t as smart as everyone perceived him to be.

But even with these feelings, you had a hard time going up to him during classes or whenever you saw him really and confronting him. Armin was always around people, people who would label you as the problem if you came up to the blonde and started to yell at him about something no one saw as his fault and that just made your hatred for him burn like a house fire inside of you.

You didn’t want to see his stupid face. You didn’t want to hear his name. You didn’t want to be anywhere near him at all! Nor did you want to be around the loudmouths that started the gossiping of your sex life and made it public.

So a few weeks after all of this, you decided to skip out on one of Connie’s parties and stay inside. You didn’t get how he could host parties practically every week, he was really trying to live those 2000’s romance movies that display college kids as people who party every night but then again, those movies weren’t exactly false because you ended up going anyway.

Not by choice, of course, your dorm roommate and friend, Historia had convinced you to come because she wanted someone to go with her to this party. You didn’t even know why she wanted to go so badly, the best idea you had was that it was because of this new girl, Ymir, she was talking to but that still did not give her any reason to shove you in the back of her car and throw a dress and pair of heels along with you.

“Stop complaining! It won’t be that bad, I’m sure you won’t even see him.” Historia reassured looking back at you through the rearview mirror as you applied mascara to your eyelashes using the camera of your phone to help you. How dumb did this Ymir girl make Historia? Of course, you’d end up seeing Armin. It was Connie’s party after all and he was bound to make himself known to everyone and probably including his ‘best buddies’ in it too.

A scoff left your lips as you rapidly blinked your lashes “Even if I don’t see him, I’ll see the others and they’ll probably be worse and actually talk.” If you ran into Eren, Connie, or Reiner, they’d definitely comment on what they had told everyone and add a snarky insult about if they could be next. The only one that possibly wouldn’t say anything like that was Jean and that was why he was the only one out of them except for Armin that you actually fucked.

“Yeah, all they do is talk. You know that (Y/n)...” The blonde woman said in an attempt to reassure you and to some degree, it did work. She was right.

All they did was talk, that was their whole thing but at the same time, their talking was the same reason why you were in this predicament in the first place. Fuck it, if they did start talking, you could always resort to throwing a drink in their face and laughing in Eren’s face as he yelled about his precious hair getting all wet.

Historia looked at you again noticing your lack of reply and you were already looking at her. As if she could read your mind, she smiled and looked away speaking simple words “Just don’t cause a scene, please? I really wanna have a good time tonight.” A wide grin stretched across your face making your lip gloss shine in the moonlight that peeked through the windows of the car and onto your body.

“With Ymir?” The blonde’s face went red at the mention of the brunette and her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly “Shut it! I bet if Jean’s here you’ll have a good time with him.” You would’ve laughed if you didn’t get embarrassed at her mention of Jean. He was a good guy, don’t get me wrong but you didn’t want that.

You didn’t know why you didn’t like that but it’s not something you wanted. There was a reason majority of the guys you’ve loved or had sex with were usually frat boys or just general dickheads, whether you knew it or not. You had no idea how you managed to snag someone like Jean, such a sweet guy. You almost thought that with Armin too until you figured out what was really going on.

But even with him being a sweet guy, you still wouldn’t have a good time with him, probably wouldn’t have a time at all. Not after he’s listened to his friends say how they’ve fucked you, the only one that was missing was Reiner. Eren couldn’t say he fucked you or you gave him head or anything because he only fingered you which didn’t really count plus you were pretty sure he and Mikasa had a thing going on so him bragging and telling everyone about some small shit like that was not do him any favors.

Thinking about what Jean must be hearing from his friends made you realize how much of a slut you were. But it wasn’t your fault that all the hot guys in college happened to be friends and frat guys…it wasn’t your fault either that they were all jerks! So there should be no criticism against her still thinking Armin was cute even after figuring out that the kind personality was just a facade.

I mean, it’s not like he took off a mask and revealed an entire different face right?

But just because you still thought he was good-looking didn’t mean you weren’t still upset about his blabbermouth.

So when you stepped into the house and the first thing you saw was Armin, Eren, and Connie all talking near the staircase while passing around a blunt, you audibly groaned loudly probably loud enough for them to hear. You wanted to burn the whole house down as soon as your eyes landed on their forms watching as they laughed about something that was probably stupid.

But…Historia asked you to not make a scene and you were going to respect what she wanted because just because you were all sad and upset. And a little pent-up if we were being completely honest. Though…you couldn’t sit at this party and not say anything to that blonde fuck.

Once Historia left, you made your way over to the three boys who had caught on to your sudden presence at the party just a bit after you started to go toward them “Woah, looks like she can’t get enough of you, man.” Connie said nudging Armin with his elbow as he took a drag from the blunt, Eren let out a small chuckle at this.

You stood in front of the three men just glaring daggers at Armin “What’s up?” Armin asked as if he hadn’t done anything wrong at all and it pissed you off more “What’s up is that we need to talk.” You got nothing in return but laughs coming from Connie and Eren who were making eye contact obviously thinking about something dirty.

“Like you talked all on his dick?” Connie asked between his laughs while passing the blunt to Armin who just stood there with a smile on his face looking as though he was resisting the urge to burst out laughing right in your face. You took notice of the cup in his hand and quickly made the decision to flip it spilling the alcohol all over his white tee.

“What the fuck (y/n)!?” Connie shouted a frown appearing on his face real quick as he looked down at the large stain on his shirt “You know what the fuck springer.” You said quickly as you grabbed Armin’s wrist and dragged him away from his friends hearing one of them call you a bitch on your way.

You didn’t look back at Armin to see what his face looked like as you dragged him to the nearest room to talk which happened to be a bathroom, he didn’t say anything as you two walked and he was probably still smoking. You wished you knew what Armin thought of you, if he had any empathetic thoughts toward you, or if he didn’t care at all.

It’s hard to know the answer to something like that when the person in question is a fucking liar. Though he never said to anyone that he was nice, that he was the kindest person in the world, he never stopped anyone from thinking that. He sure as hell didn’t stop you from thinking that when your face was coated in his cum.

“If you’re trying to distance yourself from that whole campus slut thing, taking me into a bathroom isn’t the best idea,” Armin said leaning against the wall and closing the bathroom door with his foot. At least he wasn’t going to pretend like he was that innocent little blonde when you two were talking alone, he respected you that much not to lie to your face when you both know what happened.

“You were the one that made everyone believe I’m a campus slut!” You said glaring at him your hands balled into fists. You didn’t know if you were upset about the fact that he was looking at you without a care in the world in those bright blue swirls that were his eyes while putting the blunt to his lips and letting the smoke escape through his nostrils or what he said the moment you two made it into this bathroom.

Armin looked down at the blunt as he removed it from in between his soft pink lips “No? I didn’t tell people that.” Well, you might as well throw that whole ‘respect’ thing out the window because he was acting like he didn’t know what he did. His lingering stare on your body made a million thoughts run through your head as you tried to find a way to respond that wouldn’t be socking him in his shit right now.

“But you told Connie and Eren that when you didn’t have to.” Armin simply shrugged as he met your eyes once more leaning his hip against the sink counter and planting his hand on the surface to support himself “I didn’t know they were going to say anything.” He said.

This pissed you off way more than you thought it would. Mainly because of his tone. He didn’t even sound like he was lying at all, he sounded as though he was telling the truth and you knew he wasn’t. It was fucking scary. “Yes, you did! They’re your friends and you know all the shit they’ve said about me.” You shouted at him while Armin just stared down at you. Anyone who was around the bathroom could definitely hear you yelling at him.

“Why are you mad at me? Connie’s the one that said all that shit, not me.” Yeah, he may have been right. He didn’t say anything but he still didn’t say shit when Connie started blabbering his mouth about you and Armin and he’s the reason why Connie had something to say in the first place. He knew how Connie and Eren were with anything that someone told them and he still said something when he didn’t have to.

Armin was pissing you off to a crazy extent but you didn’t say anything, you just stared at him. It was slutty and sick of you to be thinking about how hot he looked right now with the smoke blowing from between his lips while he was fucking with your head trying to make it seem like you had no right to be mad at him. “And it’s not exactly like they’re wrong about you being the slut…” You didn’t say anything and just continued to stare at him waiting for him to keep talking.

“You fucked Jean, fucked Connie and me…who knows who’s next? Reiner?” Armin said throwing one finger up with every name that left his mouth with a teasing smile reappearing on his face before placing the blunt to his lips and exhaling the smoke in your face making sure you knew that he didn’t give a fuck.

“I never fucked that short bitch Connie!” Armin let out a laugh leaning his head back against the wall, he clearly didn’t give a fuck but he didn’t have to laugh in your face making it clear that he also didn’t take you seriously at all “Still fucked Jean and gave me head. Not like anyone will believe that you didn’t fuck Connie with a reputation like that.” Armin said rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at you as if he was sorry that you had to deal with that but you knew he wasn’t. He was just trying to fucking play with your head.

It was working.

Looking at him through your mascara-coated lashes, you wondered if he believed that shit like everyone else did. If Connie told him the truth about nothing happening. Did he at least have the common decency to know his friend was lying?

You wished that Armin was that sweet boy you thought he was but then again you can’t say that because you were still thinking about how cute he was and what he thought of you even when knowing how he truthfully was. Pathetic. “Do you believe that?” You asked your voice lower than it was before looking away from Armin not wanting to see whatever mocking look he was giving you, it’d make you feel even more pathetic.

His white and blue Jordans came into your view blocking your gaze on the tile bathroom floor “Why would I tell you that? It’ll ruin the game.” Armin said mockingly soft. Game? Did he think all of this shit was a game? Something to entertain him? Why didn’t you realize this from the start of this conversation?

Because you were blinded by him that’s why and that’s probably what made it fun for him. Armin knew he was fucking with your head and he was probably smiling at you because of it.

“This isn’t a game. If it is, it’s not fucking fun.” You said looking back up at him with your brows furrowing in anger. Your hands plant themselves on his chest and push him back away from you, it didn’t seem to phase him at all and in fact he just smiled doubling down to walk even closer to you.

“We can make it fun,” Armin said with a smirk on his face and you wanted to say ‘fuck no’, you wanted to leave, you wanted to hit him but you didn’t because you didn’t really want to. You wanted to know how he was going to make it fun even though you already had an idea of what he was talking about and it was an idea that you weren’t opposed to.

It was really fucking pathetic but you can’t help how you feel nor could you stop the pulsing feeling in your cunt squeezing around literally nothing just wishing that the nothing was being replaced with him “We’re already in the bathroom together, I can make everything they’re about to say when you leave come true.” Armin continued and it took everything to not kiss him with how close his face was to yours.

You wanted to at least have some respect for yourself. You just got to this party, the first thing you did was grab Armin and take him to the bathroom which seemed wrong enough as it is not only from other people’s perspective but from yours too and if you started fucking him while in here when you were supposed to yell at him and tell him off, that’d just make everyone really believe you were a cock hungry slut including yourself.

Armin then backed his face away which confused you and you showed it on your face “But if you don’t want to…I won’t. You can go slut yourself out to someone you want.” That’s what threw you off.

You thought he was being sweet with wanting consent until the second part of his sentence left his throat. Even when saying something like that which would make a girl fall to her knees because of how kind he was about needing to know if you wanted it, he still found a way to slut-shame you like everyone else fucking did.

It was true, all guys were fucking dickheads.

“I thought you were actually a good guy…” You muttered feeling tears beginning to burn in your eyes and a smile just appeared on his face again “If you wanted a good boy, baby you should’ve fucked bertholdt. You’d probably still do it.” Armin said coldly with a chuckle coming from under his breath.

Your hands clenched into tight fists once again but this time you actually put them to use. Your hand went flying toward Armin’s nose making him step back going to hold his nose with a groan and without another word, you left the bathroom rubbing your knuckles leaving Armin in there by himself.

You didn’t know what you were thinking. You didn’t fucking need Armin to have a good time, you didn’t need him for dick either because if you really wanted it that damn bad, you’d find someone. Hell you might even go to Floch just to fucking avoid him, he’d probably be the only guy to want to fuck you without wanting to tell the whole world after Connie’s little lies of you being ran through by the entire Frat house he was in.

When the party was eventually over, you found yourself wandering down the hallway of the dormitories with your heels in your hand and alone. Historia had dropped you off with Ymir in the car adn they went their own way probably either to Ymir’s house or just fucking in the car which you respected so you went about your own way to go to the dorm.

Afterall, you were drunk but you weren’t that drunk. You could still stand, walk and think straight so you were going to be fine but it took a lot of convincing from you and Ymir that you were going to be fine and that they could just leave. You just hoped historia was enjoying herself with Ymir because you clearly weren’t with your horrible mood.

Your bare feet stepped along the carpeted floor of the dorm hallway with your heels clacking against each other in your hand. A frown brought down your face as you let out a sigh. You wanted someone right now.

You didn’t know who you wanted but you needed someone. You spent the entire party babysitting a red solo cup that got refilled probably every three minutes, you ignored the whispers and the stares from people and the snickers you got whenever the guys from the frat house passed by you and don’t even get me started on how you were whenever you caught a glimpse of the blonde man.

It was probably the saddest party you’d ever been to and it left you with a sad feeling resting inside of you, it was your fault honestly. If you weren’t so damn bad at picking out guys and always going for the scumbags and dicks, you wouldn’t be so sad almost crying while finding your way down to your dorm.

“No eren, I didn’t fucking take your weed.” You froze when you heard Armin’s voice. It was very muffled clearly coming from behind a door. Damn, you had forgotten that Armin also lived in the dorms and happened to be on the same floor as you were, it was how you managed to ask him for help for that class.

Your head turned to your right seeing that brown door that looked identical to every other door that was in this hallway except for that metal plate with the numbers ‘312’ that haunted you and made your skin run cold, goosebumps popping up on your exposed arms. Had it always been this cold in the hallway? You didn’t know if it was or the sudden known presence of Armin that was making you feel like it was freezing.

You didn’t continue walking or anything and just stood there staring at the door as if you were waiting for him to say more but he didn’t. He was probably just listening to Eren whine about that damn chain.

Without thinking, you allowed your feet to carry you closer to the door with your stare not faltering one bit. You needed someone so bad, you were just so upset hat you wanted to be in someone’s embrace no matter if it was sex or just cuddling and Armin shouldn’t have been the person you decided on. He was the one that made you feel like this in the first place along with his stupid friends.

But you still wanted him. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his blonde hair making an unruly messy of it, you wanted him to fill you up and making you feel so full, you wanted to smash your lips onto his. You wanted Armin so bad you thought it was going to kill you. Fuck being pathetic, fuck all that shit of feeling bad for wanting a mean guy, you’ll never learn to have fun if you spend all your time just feeling sorry for yourself and what kind of guys you like.

You were already known as a slut and starting to beleive it yourself, there’s nothing you could dp to make people stop thinking that so why not just fucking imbrace it?

You brought those same bruised knuckles that smashed into Armin’s nose up to the door and knocked on the wood gently a few times before dropping your arm back down to your side turning your head down to look at your feet “Eren are you at my fucking door? I told you I don’t got that shit.” His voice was louder than it was the first time and seemed less muffled.

You waited paitently and a little anxious that he’d just slam the door back in your face upset that you punched him in his shit. The sound of the door unlocking made you squeeze your eyes shut not wanting to even look at his shoes but after a few seconds of silence, you decided to look at him.

You slowly lifted your head making eye contact with Armin who was looking down at you, it seemed as though just you staring up at him was the thing that made him happy because a evil lustful grin formed on his lips as he watched you shfit your weight onto your other foot clearly nervous.

“I’ll call you back Eren.”

Moans bounced off the walls of Armin’s dorm as your nails dug into the soft plushness of the couch trying to hold back your moans though you weren’t really doing that good of a job at it “Why you hiding your moans from me baby? I wanna know how good I make my slut feel.” Armin said teasingly as his hands harshly gripped your hips while watching as he slid in and out of you with ease nearly drooling at the sight of how good you sucked his cock in.

Though Armin doubted that he should be surprised, you were so good at taking it down your throat, it’s only normal that you’re good at taking it in your pussy too “S-Sorry, mhm…” You whimpered as you snuck your hand down to draw circles on your clit only making more moans come from your mouth “It’s okay just take it like a good girl. I know you can.” His words made you basically melt onto the spot.

You wanted to be Armin’s good girl so badly, only his. “Uh huh…m’ your good girl.” Your words were just gibberish at this point, he was fucking you so good that you could barely comprehend anything that was going on only how he was ramming inside of you “That’s right, mine. All mine…” You heard Armin whisper possibly one of his hands slapping your thigh making a yelp come out of your mouth.

Your walls fluttered around him as you felt his violent pace slow a bit “Armin…” You were too busy lost in your dreams of pleasure to even notice the missing hand on your hips, the pad of your finger continued to draw circles on your clit bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm “Baby show me how good of a girl you are.” Armin’s words made you open your eyes with a sound of confusion and his phone was shoved in your face recording you; You could see yourself in the camera.

It was an extreme distinction from when you looked into the camera of your phone to fix your makeup, the mascara was running down your face in streams of tears, lipgloss smudged, and probably on Armin’s lips too, red rims around your eyes showing your crying from how good he was fucking you and your lips parted in an ‘O’ with moans slipping out.

His other hand left your hip and found its way to your neck squeezing just lightly and making you groan, he lifted you so your back was pressed up against his chest with him still thrusting up in you hitting your cervix “What are you?” Armin asked as you watched as your tits bounced up and down with each thrust he delivered to your cunt, his cock disappearing and reappearing inside of you.

Your hand still down rubbing circles on your clit which Armin caught onto “A-A slut…” You whispered watching as he set up the phone so it could stand on its own before putting his now free hand on top of yours “Whose slut?” Yeah, you were waiting for that. You didn’t know if he wanted you to automatically know that or if he wanted to hear you admit it after prodding for the answer.

You lowered your head gasping with your chest rising up and down with deep breaths feelings yourself come closer but then he grabbed your hand and tore it from your clit “Say it.” He said sternly with a tight hold on your hand watching you from the camera on the phone, you whined loudly wanting the attention to your clit to return as you were so close, his dick was enough but you wanted more. Like a greedy whore.

“Yours! I’m your slut armin, yours.” You shouted trying to tear your hand away from Armin’s but he didn’t allow you to and grinned at it, you saw it in the video. He looked at you like he was going to kill you like he had the evilest idea in his head “Please, I just wanna cum.” Armin only laughed under his breath at this and leaned down placing his chin on your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Well hold it,” Armin said gently biting down on your neck and hearing you whimper in response. You couldn’t hold it, how could he even begin to ask you that with the way he was fucking you? He was just trying to play with your head even in this intimate moment, if you can even call it that with the filthy noises that both of you were making “I can’t.” You forced out with a sob whining as Armin’s hand moved up to grab at your jaw harshly and force you to look into the camera and see yourself.

You saw a bulge in your stomach and reached your free hand down to gently press at it making both of you groan at the same time, yours sounded more like whimpering than his did. His moans were very different from the first time you heard them.

The first time, they were like yours. Whimpers, begging moans, small sobs as if it was his first time getting head and he just couldn’t get enough of it nor could he take it but now you were the one sounding like that with all of those feelings inside of you as he groaned and whispered filthiness into your ear calling you all types of things that just made you squeeze him tighter.

“Armin please…!” You whined louder hoping to get his attention and get him to understand that you really couldn’t hold it. Even without your fingers on your clit, you were still going to cum and you were trying your absolute hardest to hold it inside but your bubble was getting ready to burst “I swear to god, if you cum this video is going all over instagram.” Your heart stopped at his words and you let the tears fall onto your cheeks that already had dried tears on them.

You really wanted to try and hold it in but you just couldn’t. His threat must’ve turned you on more because you squeezed around his cock tighter watching in the camera as you came with a yell and Armin’s hold on your neck released and he allowed you to fall forward onto the couch.

His silence haunted you and the way his thrusts slowed made you even more terrified of what he was about to do. You breathed heavily as you looked up watching as Armin reached over and grabbed his phone “Don’t get too comfortable, we’re goin’ again baby.” He spoke and you almost smiled but when you remembered what you had just done and the things he probably was planning, you stopped yourself.

A sob escaped your throat at the thought "Keep crying, all it's doing is making me wanna fuck you more." Armin said and you could practically hear the grin on his face and you wished you could wipe it off with a kiss.

That night you and Armin went at it like fucking rabbits but he never said anything more of his threat. He never told you if he did it or not and you never saw anything on his instagram so you assumed he didn’t. The thought of him showing connie, eren and those other boys crossed your mind but they never said anything, no one did so he probably didn’t. Those fuckers couldn’t keep their mouths shut to save their lives but maybe they would if Armin told them that.

Though, it didn’t matter if he did or if he didn’t because you still would be sat on his lap all pretty as he smoked with Eren and connie like you were right now.

Armin’s hand was planted on your ass as you turned the lighter on watching as the fire erupted from the lighter before moving it toward the blunt that was in between the blonde’s lips just waiting for you. You felt the stares of the other two guys on you but you didn’t care, it didn’t matter.

Only Armin mattered and being his good girl mattered most of all. He wasn’t a good boy so someone had to be the good one. Armin inhaled before taking the blunt from his lips and blwoing the smoke out of his mouth making a ‘O’ with the smoke and your face fitting perfectly in the gap. You smiled at the trick that he often did “That’s my good girl.” Armin said with a grin on his face before passing the blunt to Eren who sat beside him.

Armin put out the lighter fire with the tips of his fingers as Eren and Connie laughed a bit to themselves at how you seemed to love his nickname for you and you really did. It made your day everytime he called you that and it may have been sad, pathetic or whatever those two said behind your back but you didn’t give a single shit.

You were Armin’s good girl and that’s all that mattered to you no matter what anyone said.

#torasplanet.ᐟ #aot smut #armin arlert #aot x reader #armin smut #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #toxic!armin #mean!armin #◛⑅·˚armin;p #marls-fics.ᐟ #aot college au #i hate this #wrote this listening to ultraviolence

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