#goes into hiding

[stinky-toons]

That thing where you like an artist and then you make small interactions to try and snag them to be your friend and suddenly, yall talk like it's nothing, this has happened a few times because I'm shy and the only way I make friends is subliminal small secret messages where I pound on my screen and go "PLEASE PLEASE FRIEND ME ON DISCORD WE HAVE TO MAGMA TOGETHER" but in the reblogs it says "AWESOME ART I love this sm :)"

It's secret code okay I swear

Stares at a few friends in particular

It's worked so far

Just not all the time...fools....

[curioosity]

[thebubblesareevil]

Danny plays superman

Danny is in metropolis for school and Superman is off planet or in another dimension with the justice league

Danny is sleep deprived and studying for exams so when some super villain asshole interrupts his daily routine he puts them down swiftly only to flee the scene thinking he’ll be found out.

Instead, as he gets to his dorm ready to flee the city one of his dorm mates stops him to show him a funny post about superman stopping a giant robot on laundry day.

What he sees is a blurry, indistinct photo of him destroying the robot.

Danny decided he can work with this.

He was tired of villains fucking around with his day just because superman was out of town for a bit and gets one of the ghosts to help him make a perfect replica of the suit.

He’s bulked up over the years and learned to control his transformation so now all he has to do is transform everything but his hair and eyes and just refuse interviews for a bit

Easy peasy!….until he meets his, we’ll Superman’s, clone.

Superboy confronts the counterfeit kryptonian about him slacking on his duties only to immediately realize this isn’t Superman.

This dudes chill though so Conner decides to just go with it

He doesn’t mind being Danny’s second clone

Lex is confounded by Superman’s sudden immunity to kryptonite

When Superman gets back no one says shit. Why would they? It’s been a completely normal month in metropolis. Though with less property damage.

Conner already explained things to Lois so she doesn’t say anything. She wants to see how long they can keep it up.

2 years pass before clark finds out.

The rest of the league figured it out at various points during the first year

Clark will never live this down

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is the Tibetan Monk

So! When Bruce was travelling the world, finding masters to teach him how to fight and investigate, he came across a strange building in Tibet.

He had followed rumors of an ancient Monk who lived atop a mountain just on the edge of a Village, who had learned how to conquer Death itself, and stole its secrets for himself. Hoping to find a new Teacher, Bruce climbed the mountain and found the home of that Monk.

What he found was strange though...

The building seemed much more modern than he had been expecting, built with metal and drywall rather than ancient bricks or stones as he had assumed. There was also a strange machine on the top of the building, and if he didn't know any better he would have said it almost looked like a spaceship.

Hesitantly, he knocked on the wooden door and waited.

The man who answered looked nothing like he had expected, but so far nothing had met his expectations so he wasn't really surprised at that point. He looked relatively young, in his late 20's or early 30's, and was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. He had short black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin that didn't exactly match the tone of the other people living in the area. In fact he looked as if he could have been an American, rather than Tibetan.

Bruce introduced himself, explained why he was there, and managed to convince the Monk that he deserved his training.

It was unorthodox, certainly very different from the training he had recieved in the League of Assasins, but the Monk said that he was well suited for this style of training.

Under the monk he learned a variety of techniques. The ability to shield his mind from Telepaths, how to Astral Project, how to completely hide his presence from others, even from those with enhanced senses, and so much more.

By the time he was finished training with the Monk, he was confident that he could finally achieve his goal of saving Gotham from itself. He bid the monk farewell, and returned to his home ready to begin the legend of the Batman.

Meanwhile Danny had just sent his most recent student off after a few months of training.

He had to do this every once in a while. There were hundreds of Liminal and Ecto-Contaminated people out there in the world who didn't know how to manage their abilities. They didn't know how to innately seperate from their physical bodies so they could more easily feed on natural Ectoplasm, or how to shield their minds from the volatile stray emotions of the people around them thay may influence their thoughts.

It was dangerous for people with that level of Ecto-Contamination to live without knowing how to keep themselves healthy. So every once in a while, Danny would find a way to contact them and to teach them all they needed to know to stay healthy.

The "Centuries Old Monk" routine was an old favorite of his for this purpose. He would intentionally spread rumors where he knew they would hear, add in some incentive like "conquering death" to make sure they would follow those rumors, and than meet them and take them under his wing.

A few of his other favorite routines were the "Circus Act who knows more than he should", "Mechanic with great advice", and sometimes even just "Life Coach" for the more conventional cases.

And if he heard Bruce's story and decided to teach him how to use a few extra useful Ghostly Abilities, like hiding your presence or merging with Shadows, then who could really judge him? The kid had taken up a huge burden, he needed all the help he could get.

Besides, its not the first time he's ever done that.

...

Years later, Bruce met Dick and found out that he also knows how to Astral Project and Guard his Mind. He couldn't merge with the shadows or hide his presence nearly as well, but he could apparently slow how fast he fell and bend in ways even bruce couldn't.

Apparently he was taught how to do so from an old member of Haley's circus, who told him that they were meditation techniques to get "in the zone" for his trapeze acts.

Then he met Jason, who could also Astral Project and Guard his mind, and he could also heal faster than normal people and read other people's emotions. He learned from a Mechanic who used to live on his street, who told him it was just some street skills that would let him avoid the people who would hurt him or give him trouble.

Then Tim came in, also with Astral Projection and a Telepath-Proof mind, and he could apparently last for weeks on end with no food or even water, and could hide his presence from even Batman. He was taught by a butler his parents had briefly hired while away from home, though Tim's parents didn't know what he was talking about when he brought it up to them later. He was told it was just a way of "keeping his spirits up" when he was alone.

Stephanie had also been taught by an old Mechanic on her street. Same as all the other she could leave her body behind and guard her mind, but she could also read emotions and convince people to do what she said. The mechanic never gave a reason for why he was teaching her, but did say that it would help her gauge the people in her life easier. He left barely a week before Steph realized her dad was the Cluemaster.

Damien was, suprisingly, trained by the same Master that Bruce had been taught by. Talia had sent him up the mounting saying that his Father had learned from the man on the mountain, and he would as well. He was taught the same as all the others, though instead of merging with Shadows like his Father he was taught how to converse with Animals.

Cass had been taught by a man while she was running from her Father. He never said why, only that it would help her live a better life. She had the "normal" abilities of Astral Projection and Guarding her Mind, but she could also Merge with Shadows and Perfectly Read other people's emotions beyond their body language.

Duke was taught by a man who had also taught other members of "We Are Robin" during the cataclysm. He said it would help them survive their attempts at heroism, though he gave Duke extra training for some reason. He had taught Duke even more than he had taught the other Bats, alongside the now typical Astral Projection and Guarding his Mind, Duke could also talk to the Dead, See into the Past, and even Phase through Walls. With enough effort he could even Fly.

A few of his abilities were attributed to his Metahuman Powers, but he claimed that they were never that powerful before that man came along.

He also said that the man "Glowed" in a strange way. He was the only one who could see it among the members of We Are Robin, even the others he had taught.

Bruce had long since decided he needed to pay his old Master a visit.

[superbat-lmao]

Before Jason makes his debut as Red Hood, he goes apartment hunting.

And the thing about Gotham is, all of the apartments that would make for good safe houses, are safe houses. The Bat’s safe houses. If Jason wants to set up shop, he’s got to get creative. This means being willing to look the other way about some things. Namely, living with other people.

Jason gets a roommate.

Sure, he’d found a couple of spots that fit some of the criteria he used for making safe houses, but not all apartments were equal. And having a semi-functioning civilian cover was useful. Sometimes.

All this to say that Jason responded to a craigslist post of some guy looking for a roommate. The post was written well enough, decent grammar and a fair enough price. Unlike some of the places he’d “toured.”

He has to trudge up a few flights of stairs to get to the place, because roof access is always high on the priority list, and knocks on the door. He waits a few minutes, hears someone check the peephole, and then the sound of at least five separate locks being undone.

With the door finally open, he gets a good look at the guy’s face. Too good of a look, actually.

Because the man who opens it is Dick Grayson.

[starry-bi-sky]

im being hit with The Visions again

the Vision this time is a "homeless danny in gotham" au except its pre-robin Batman again because im on a batdad kick. --------------------

Danny finds a car.

Which-- isn't, like, anything super interesting or impressive. It's Gotham, it's a big city. There's cars on every corner, can't throw a stick without hitting one somewhere. And then setting off the alarm.

But-! It's a car, and it's past midnight-- or he thinks it might be past midnight, it's late enough to be. He doesn't have a watch and he left his phone at Vlad's; asshole put a tracker on it after the last time Danny ran off.

It's been over a month since, it's a new record -- last time it took just over two weeks for Vlad to find him and drag him back to the mansion. This time, Danny ran further. Left the state and everything. See how long it takes Vlad to find him now, hah.

People go missing all the time in Gotham.

Anyways-- there's a car, and it's midnight, and it's parked in an alleyway. Danny would've called it invisible with the way he pretty much trips over it, phasing through the wall of the building beside it and not watching where he's going, but it's not. So he doesn't.

Danny runs into the hood and nearly faceplants right into the darn thing with an 'oomph', hands catching himself on the metal as a flash of irritation flashes hot through his gut. It doesn't hurt or anything, but getting the wind knocked out of you sucks always, and he's tired and hungry, and as a result not in the best state of mind.

He's just about to sink his foot into the side of the wheel -- it wouldn't do anything, he's not that big of an asshole, but it's the principle -- when he stops.

Danny pauses.

He takes a step back, holding his hands out 'n' everything, and examines the car. He squints, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness, considering the closest streetlight is twenty feet that way and positioned in a way that none of the light is hitting it.

Danny would not call himself a car guy. He doesn't think he counts, considering his size and lack of everything. But, but, he knows his way around a few cars, and he had an old obsession with older models when he was little that kinda petered out of existence after his accident. Had a bunch of little car models sitting on one of his shelves back in Amity, and Dad offered to get his hands on an old car for the two of them to fix up together so it'd be ready for Danny when he got his license.

...Anyways.

Point is: Danny can appreciate an old car, and this car has an older -- albeit obviously modified, if the matte paneling and plated wheels meant anything -- look to it. That kind of flat top went out of style years ago, and it's got this kinda rectangular look Danny doesn't see often these days on modern cars.

Other than the electrical cars, but he doesn't think those count. That's boxy, not rectangular.

Danny frowns, tilts his hands down, and leans back further as if that will let him get a better look at this thing. "...What model is this?" He mutters, it's hard to tell in this lighting.

Wait, he should see if there's anyone in the car. It's not running or anything, and nobody's come out to yell at him -- or shoot him -- but, still. People are crazy in Gotham, crazier than they've ever been in Amity. The last thing he needs to do is piss off some guy from the mob.

Danny peers into the window and-- there's no window, okay. Well, no window, and no driver. Some idiot left their car unprotected and without windows, in Gotham?

He pulls on the door handle just to be annoying -- it doesn't budge. Okay, maybe not that stupid. Especially since Danny didn't even see it until he was quite literally running into it.

So. Not that stupid.

Danny looks around warily, pulling his hoodie around him tighter, and then starts circling the car slowly. Like a vulture. No license plate; shocker. Hear how shocked he is? Clutching his pearls right now.

"Reinforced bumper. Cool." he says, er- whispers, really, quiet enough that it doesn't even echo. Danny squats in front of the car and runs his hands over the -- what, should he even call this a bumper? It's bigger than his head, and it's covering the grille. He picks at these... things on the side that remind him of leather straps. Probably to keep this bumper up? Like a ratchet strap?

Danny leans back until his butt hits the ground and he can sit back properly, propping himself up on his hands -- maybe not a good idea. There's probably broken glass somewhere here and he doesn't wanna pick shards out of his palms, again. It's like popping the world's most annoying zit depending on if it gets under the skin.

(He could always just phase them out, but the picking gives him something to do. It doesn't hurt that much.)

Eh. It'll be fine.

With one knee propped up, Danny looks the front up and down, and furrows his brows. The style kinda reminds him of a dodger, especially with the placement and style of the headlights. He plants his hands on the concrete -- hissing when he feels something cut into his palms, ow, there's that glass he was talking about -- and leans down to look under the car.

Hm, nothing jutting out that much. Looks pretty normal. Good space between the bottom and the ground.

He gets up and circles the side again, brushing whatever pebbles or glass that could've stuck into his skin off. He's really curious about where the owner got matte plating for it, or if it's just a wrap. The silhouette's definitely sixties or seventies; too angular for the eighties and fifties.

...There's no one here, Danny looks around again just to make sure, cranes his ears to catch anything. Nope, just the typical quiet rumbling of Gotham's underbelly. It kinda reminds him of Amity, or-- no. No, it reminds him of the quiet groan of the Zone.

That's far more comforting, he thinks. Danny's never really liked Amity all that much.

Back to the car: there's no one around, so Danny folds his arms against the side of the door and sticks his head inside the window. No keys in the ignition, should've figured.

Not like Danny was planning on stealing the car anyways -- anyone capable of modifying a car into this kinda beast -- or paying someone to modify -- was not someone he wanted to piss off. Danny's an orphan, not stupid.

Ignore the fact that he's got his head stuck through the window. The interior isn't anything interesting, but the seats are made of leather, which is nice. Must be a pain in the summer or winter, but leather is cool, and gets stains out better than cloth.

No stick shift though, he's a little disappointed.

Danny presses his mouth into a line and then slants it, humming in the back of his throat. Honestly, he's kinda tempted to crawl in and go to sleep. The leather seats look really inviting, and he's been sleeping on the ground or on park benches for weeks, and the car is really well hidden. No need to worry about being kidnapped.

But, it still belongs to someone. And they're probably using it for something shady. They'll come back for it eventually, so he should get this gawking over with anyways.

And, and-- and. He wants to get a look at that fucking engine. 'Cause holy shit!

Danny pulls his head out of the window and half-dances over to the back, his hand curling around one of the bars as a grin spreads across his face. Now, Danny hates Christmas, but this, this is like it came early and good for once.

"You could smuggle moonshine with this thing," Danny says to himself, grinning ear to ear and running his hands over the edge of the metal. The car is too conspicuous for backroads driving, but the engine, wow. What a thing of beauty.

One of Auntie's friends would probably know what engine it is -- or what type of engine it's based off of, it could very well be a bunch of different engines frankenstein'd together. Danny doesn't recognize it.

Which means it could be illegal. Again, what a shocker. In Gotham? He's clutching his pearls.

Fully satisfied with himself, Danny dances around to the front again and holds his hands out. He makes an 'L' with both hands and shuts one eye, getting the car within the frame of his fingers like he's about to take a picture.

"I rate you," Danny makes a camera shutter sound and mimics taking a photo, "one cool fuckin' car."

"Thank you."

Danny doesn't scream. He does not. He's taught himself better since ghosts started popping up in Amity, and honestly he deserves some credit for that considering they only started popping up over half a year ago.

He does, however, gasp. And he gasps hard, the type that has a high chance of giving you the hiccups afterwards; the painful, chest-thumping kind. Danny slams both hands over his mouth and stumbles backwards, eyes wide and his heart kicking into the fifth gear in his ears.

Bleeding out from the shadows is a man entirely drenched in black, Danny can hardly make out his silhouette and barely catches the white glints of his eyes. Fear like a prey animal burns in his lungs, wild and rabid, Danny has half a mind to bolt.

His ghost sense didn't go off, which might just be the most terrifying thing.

The man doesn't move any more than a step, just enough that Danny can barely see him, but he can feel him watching him. Shit. Shit. He should've never stuck around.

His hands are still over his mouth, Danny, shaking, flutters them open, "How-- h-- how--" he wheezes, "how long have you been standing there?"

[cantpickyourgenre]

I believe Bobby is coming back from the dead because I think we deserve to live in a world where Kenneth Choi gets to act his ass off by playing a simultaneously relieved/joyous and angry/furious Chimney, who feels like he has to thank Bobby, but also scream at him until his throat is sore because it wasn't fair to make that decision! he's going to say they should have played rock, paper, scissors and Bobby will chuckle because he thinks he's joking like silly haha Chimney, but Chimney is like "no, we should have discussed it, you died and I didn't even get to say thank you. you died and I owed you a debt I didn't even know about. you let me carry that" and he has to wrestle with the guilt of knowing that Bobby would do that for him, not just theoretically, but actual concrete proof that Bobby would die to save him. which they all know on some surface level that they'd die for one another, but it feels like such a far-off concept until it isn't. but Chimney also has to deal with the gratitude because Chimney is also so incredibly thankful that he didn't die. every step of the way he wanted Ravi, Bobby, Buck, and Athena to commit crimes, because he loves his life and he wants to keep living it. he's so overjoyed that he got to go home to his wife and kid, and that comes with its own guilt because how can he be so happy to be home when Bobby DIED. does that make him a monster? that on some level he's HAPPY that Bobby did that? and now he has to FACE Bobby. so he tries to be the Before Chimney who gets people whimsical gifts, but how do you give someone balloons about choosing your life over theirs? and he spirals because he's different now and Bobby is here and he has so so much he wants to say but all of it feels contradictory and unfair and he would normally go to Bobby for advice. so he does. he goes to Bobby and he says "what would you do, if you were in my position?" and Bobby just says "whatever you need to say or feel, I understand" and that just makes Chimney even more upset because what he needs is for none of this to have ever happened. its like they all got a re-do, but kept the memories and the feelings and now he has nowhere appropriate to put them. anyway, Bobby lives and we get Chimney angst yay <3 forever and ever.

[hiruseki]

god i seriously am never getting over That Scene in orv. kim dokja has so little compassion for himself that the only thing he can think to do upon being confronted with the most powerless, frightened, vulnerable version of himself is to try and murder it with his own hands. even when everyone is sobbing and begging him to stop, even when everyone has already forgiven him without reservation, even when yoo motherfucking pilgrim of the apocalypse joonghyuk cannot muster any animosity, kdj will not stop trying to convince them this trembling little boy needs to die. it had been well established by that point that kdj is self destructive and self loathing, but he was good at maintaining some emotional distance from his actions. but the moment he steps off that train, recognizes his own drawings, realizes what's happened, that impassive veneer shatters and he becomes desperate and vicious. this man hates himself so much. seriously, can you imagine how it must have felt to be oldest dream? you're an abused, lonely, depressed child. profoundly alone in this world, betrayed by everyone you've ever loved. you are so frightened of everything you can't bear to live in reality. you meet yourself from the future, but even he has no sympathy for you. no, he hates you. he hates you so much he wants to kill you. he would point a broken sword at his own throat if it meant he could erase you. you don't know what you did wrong. you never do. all you can do is cower from the monster and hope he doesn't get you.

like it's so fucked up. orv is so fucked up.

[stealingpotatoes]

In Skywalkers Apart:

Why doesn't Anakin go overthrow the Emperor sooner? (since it appears that the Empire is still in power around the Rebels time period)

What do Anakin and Sabine think of each other? Bc I think they'd get along quite well 😉💣

What does Anakin think of Chopper and AP-5?

anakin & sabine would get on GREAT (especially bc this is ultimate girldad au anakin) but uh. on the first point. i think you're overestimating anakin a little like you've gotta think abt that matchup

[ennunanaiurov]

Arborstone

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who put these kids here?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[elderwisp]

In my bones and in my soul Always be in your control

[thistlerock]

I think Gorgug grows up trying to take up as little space as possible.

I think that as a child, before he was all that conscious of his own decisions, he broke a lot of stuff. That's fine, small children do that and his parents have had him since he was a baby. A huge baby, especially for gnomes. A huge baby that grew into a toddler the size of his parents who's (again, normal and okay) tantrums did actual property damage because he's an orc. They were never mad at him for it, they'd never be mad at a child experiencing big emotions and not yet able to process them or understand consequences, but we know how their families reacted to that. We know that they always saw him as something that would grow up to be a threat.

I think that pretty much as soon as he develops a sense of it Gorgug starts feeling ashamed. He's ashamed of how nothing ever fits right, and of how loud he gets when he's upset, and of how the other kids in the neighbourhood (because it's a small folk neighbourhood!!) get scared of him sometimes, and of how when he has bad dreams he breaks his bed and is unable to control himself, like a baby. There was probably a time where he thought he was really clumsy and he was ashamed of that too, but by the time he turns like twelve Gorgug kind of understands that he's not more clumsy than the average kid, it's just that every time he drops something or bumps into a shelf it'll do so much more damage than if anyone else he lives around were to do the same.

(And his parents are talented tinkerers but sometimes their work is so delicate and all he ever does is wreck things. He doesn't dare touch it no matter how much they try to share this passion with him — eventually they assume he just doesn't like it and they would never force him to do something he doesn't want. Gorgug doesn't let himself discover how much he enjoys it until sophomore year. I wonder if he regrets all those years he spent fearing the possibility of ruining things and depriving himself of something he ended up loving.)

(And he was never "stupid", it's just that all he ever thought himself of was a brute so he never entertained the possibility of his own intelligence until faced with it. He didn't know he could thrive academically so it wasn't something he ever considered committing to. He literally just played bloodrush because he was good at it, not because he liked it. He just thought he had to, and he thought math is something he couldn't possibly do. Why try?)

Entering Highschool Gorgug is very shy, and he doesn't really have friends. Adults always like to blame the latter on the first, but sometimes it's the other way around and sometimes it's a vicious cycle. Sometimes you're six years old and none of the kids in your elementary school class are anything like you but you desperately try to fit in until you slip up and show them how much of a freak you are one time (I think he got mad. I think he broke a table. I think someone cried. I think maybe there was a teacher who was so much smaller than him and looked at him as if he were something to be feared. I think that in that moment he decided that he is. Or at least his rage, maybe.) and then you never get to have friends again and you shrink in on yourself and you don't understand how anyone else does it — it's not even that you're scared you just don't understand, and maybe you just want to be alone. And then a happy outspoken child grows into a shy teenager because they don't have any friends.

I think Gorgug is careful. He is so gentle and empathetic and kind and he is so careful because every time he isn't something breaks. And every time he raises his voice someone is scared of him and all he ever wants is people to not be afraid. So he hunches over, and he stands in the corner, and he scoots to the very edge of the bench so you don't have to sit too close to him, and he takes every insult to his face without fighting back lest he'll get upset and despite all his fucking efforts all it takes is one asshole to take it too far and he feels himself snap and all he wants to do is break something and hurt and twist and kill. And that scares him. He doesn't allow himself to be angry (and as wonderful as Digby and Wilma are they don't understand. They don't understand that he has to be, that he has to let it out some time.) so he bottles it up and every time it explodes out of him he doesn't know how to handle it other than to swing his axe and kill maul bite snarl kill.

But then, his adventuring party seems to not mind his rage, or his size, or his freakish strength. If anything they seem to like it, or at least respect him for it. He's never considered doing something like music before because that's for talented people and it's art and he doesn't do art because his hands are only good for destruction, not creation. Right? He does the music anyway. It's nice because there he's allowed to be angry on the drums and no one thinks it's weird.

He meets a girl that finds his rage attractive and he was scared that he'd scared her but he didn't. Ragh becomes one of his dearest friends and maybe for the first time Gorgug looks at a raging (half-)orc — all snarling and panting and bearing his teeth and twitching at any sound or scent — and doesn't find himself appalled because all he sees is someone that's fighting to keep him and his friends safe. And oh, maybe it's okay to be enraged.

I think he grows into a young man that doesn't love being angry but stops hating it too. He likes, in a way, that he gets angry over the right things, and he likes that being angry enables him to protect those he cares for. In the end his rage is a survival instinct and it's good to be alive. That leads to him, for a while, only accepting his rage as something that's fine to express in combat, and if it's outside of combat then only to his friends. There's still this need to make himself palatable, to tone himself down so everyone stays comfortable around him, but that also fades eventually.

During junior year he does finally come out of his shell enough to just express his anger the second he feels it. I think it is liberating and it's also the scariest thing he's ever done, and he went through a forest that made him confront his deepest fears already. (And that's exactly what it was. The inconvenience to his parents, the fear it strikes in others, the rejection it brings, the way it seems to reduce him to a weapon or maybe a wild animal and to some people including parts of him means he absolutely cannot be an intelligent or loveworthy person. He's always been afraid of his own rage.)

I think that if a younger Gorgug could see his older self snarl at one of his friends for making a joke about his parents' lawnmower, with his tusks fully grown out and muscle finally starting to fill out his clothes a little, so strong and so dangerous and so unashamed of it, he'd feel no relief and only horror. I think acceptance is something that feels alien to him right up until he suddenly achieves it.

[equill]

Sukea stuff

Extra: realization

It’s been a while

Panel 1: smile

Comic 2: Caught red handed

you’re his son

Extra: conversation

he just picking on him

Comic 3: You’re grounded.

[wcnderlnds]

impatient | peter maximoff (smut)

✧ a little extra follow on to this fic but can be read separately. ✧

・❥・warnings: 18+ nsfw. it's just pure smut. explicit language, female reader. ・❥・ authors note: uh. this is the first time ive ever posted smut or fully wrote a whole fic of it so... IM NERVOUS BYE.

The movie had been completely forgotten about now. All Peter could think about was the way your lips felt on his, the way your tongue was in his mouth tangling with his. When you shifted in his lap, it was over for him. That was all he could handle. He pulled his lips from yours, breath heavy as he held you in place on his lap.

“What about the movie?” He said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Who cares?” You mumbled, hands sliding down his shoulders and along his chest. Peter took a sharp breath in trying to focus but it was very hard — literally and figuratively — when you were sitting on his lap looking flushed from your make out session; your cheeks all red, lips swollen. It was probably one of his favourite looks on you.

“I thought you did, considering you bugged me for days on end to sit and watch this with you.”

”Well, I want to do something else now,” you slowly rolled your hips against his, eliciting a growl from his lips. His fingers dug into your hips as he helped you move against him, guiding your movements. Slow and tortuous — you knew how much going slow tortured him and that’s exactly what you wanted to do. Get him so worked up that he snaps and gives you exactly what you want.

The friction of your hips rubbing against his him was almost too much for him. His head was thrown back on the couch as he guided your movements. It was then you took the opportunity to press your lips to his neck - lightly at first then gently nipping, leaving a nice red mark there, claiming him as yours. Watching him explain that hickey to everyone tomorrow was going to be your amusement for the day. He was at his wits end, he couldn’t take it anymore as he pulled you up from his neck, crashing his lips against yours hungrily. His hands wasted no time in grabbing the edge of your shirt, tugging it off over your head and throwing it across the room. He couldn’t care less about anything other than getting you naked now. His touch was desperate and needy as his hands roamed up your sides, around your back and to the clasp of your bra. In an instant, he had it undone, throwing it behind him. You couldn’t help but giggle against his lips at his eagerness. Your skin felt like it was on fire at his touch, the desire burning up inside you. 

His lips trailed down your neck with wet, open mouth kisses as his hands palmed your breasts. He lightly squeezed causing you to moan against his mouth which in turn made him smirk. As revenge, you rolled your hips against his harder, the outline of his cock prominent against his sweatpants. “Can’t wait anymore,” he breathed. You were almost certain he was using his powers when he pulled off your shorts in a blur, his own sweatpants gone and thrown to the side.

Now free from the confines of his sweats, you could see how hard he really was. As your hand reached out to palm him, he grabbed your wrist with a shake of his head. “Nuh-uh. I’m not fucking around right now. If I’m not inside you within the next second, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna spontaneously combust and that’d all be on you, babe. Imagine cleaning up that mess.”

“So dramatic,” you rolled your eyes at him but instantly shut up the second his hand slipped inside your panties. His fingers expertly began to rub circles against your clit, adding pressure that caused you to squirm in his lap fighting back a whimper.

“Not so sassy now, huh?” He smirked. His fingers moved faster against you, teasing between your folds with ease.

“Thought you didn’t want to fuck around?” 

“Now who's impatient.”

He pulled his fingers from your panties making sure to make a show of licking his fingers of your arousal. The sight alone was nearly enough to make you cum. He pulled off your panties quickly, discarding them with the rest of your clothes that were scattered around the room now. Peter shuffled you off his lap for a moment as he lifted his hips to pull his boxers off. His cock sprang free against his stomach, hard and aching. Biting your lower lip, you settled yourself back on his lap.

Reaching between your bodies, you grabbed his length and positioned yourself above him. Slowly, too slowly for Peter, you sank down onto him. The groan that fell from his lips sounded like heaven, a gasp of your own echoing through the room as he filled you up. “Fuuuuuck,” he grabbed your hips tightly.

He gave you no time at all to adjust to him before he was thrusting his hips up into you. Hard. He slipped in and out of you easily - it was a marvel to him how wet he could get you without even really trying. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he kept pounding up into you. The moans passing your lips were music to his ears as he hit all the right spots. Finally, you managed to get him to still when you stuck your tongue in his mouth, stopping him in his tracks allowing you to start moving your own hips. His moved mouth hungrily against yours as you fucked yourself on his cock, Peter looking between your bodies as he watched himself disappear in and out of you. ‘What a damn beautiful sight’, he thought.

“F-Fuck, so good, baby. So good, keep going,” he praised as his hands slid up your back. He pulled himself up so his chest pressed against yours, the skin on skin contact only driving him closer and closer to the edge. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling your mouth back down to his. The only noises heard throughout the room were the slapping of skin and your moans that weren’t swallowed by Peter’s mouth. As you rode him, you felt that familiar coil start to build inside. Peter picked up on it, feeling you clench around him and suddenly you were on your back on the couch, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. “Shit… fuck, need to come, baby. Let go. Let go for me. Not gonna stop until you do.”

As much as he wanted to let go, he needed you to finish first. Peter was anything but selfish. 

His babbling in your ear along with the feeling of him deep inside you was enough to send you over the edge. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it as your body arched into his. “Peter!” You cried out, body shaking as your orgasm hit you with such force you were sure you saw stars.

That was all it took to send Peter over the edge. “Fuck,” he hissed, pulling out (he really had no excuse to have a bad pull out game) and stroking his length until he painted your stomach with his release. In an exhausted heap, he threw himself down beside you. His hand lay on his chest as he caught his breath back.

“We might have to watch that freaky little doll again if this is how it ends up.”

“Are you saying Chucky turns you on?”

Peter had zoomed off to get a damp cloth to clean you up, reappearing in front of you in a blur of silver and blue to catch what you said. “What? No! Don’t twist my words, weirdo.”

“Wait until you find out there's like five of these movies. Can’t imagine how horny that’ll make you,” you teased. Sitting up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips in thanks. 

“Hate you.” It was a pathetic mumble against your lips.

“Not what you said five minutes ago.”

[pixlokita]

May we have some headcanons on you Weretrap Oswald please?

He collects batteries, spare arcade game parts and other trinkets that might be useful. He’s mostly looking for them during nightmare hallucination episodes ⚙️🪛✨