#and what it does is shape your entire fucking personality
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getting annoyed at all the people i keep seeing saying no omg halloween ends was so good because they tried something new and im like yeah ok but did literally any of the stuff they tried actually turn out good? no.
#it didnt even do the bare minimum of creating a coherent whole smh. let alone being good i very nearly did walk out entirely.#like ok playing with the idea that your environment can be what pushes you to do evil instead of you being Inherently Bad#and the idea that like. michael myers isnt some all encompassing evil he's just one of many people out there who do bad things#great i get it. fine#but then they just throw it in the trash by being like actually no corey just is an evil person now. hes got bad vibes.#and then he (spoilers) and his entire story just like. doesnt even get brought up again now its a movie abt killing michael for 20 minutes#like ok . so now michael is the ultimate evil of haddonfield again and we all funeral march together to kill him. sure.#i guess fuck what the other 80 minutes of this movie were about.#like we get a limp line abt how evil never dies it just changes shape but like. they literally did kill both the evils & haddonfield's fine#i dont even think corey or anything about him specifically ever gets brought up again. for the entire last bit of the movie.#and we make zero moves to like address... what happened to create the evil scarecrow man at all. its just like well michaels dead we win.#plus whatever they were trying to do with laurie's entire character just made NO sense.#shes fine now she's healed from her trauma but now people are mad at her because she 'provoked' michael??#when last movie we quite literally established that she didnt and he wasn't even here to look for her. he does not care abt that woman.#and then her granddaughter being like YOURE SO OBSESSED WITH DEATH YOU WANT EVERYONE AS MISERABLE AS YOU#when like??? laurie isn't even miserable in this movie she's post therapy and doing pretty well and enjoying her fucking life??#so now everyone is just like. projecting this image onto laurie that we know is provably false but its never addressed#its not like . 'wow people project an ideal onto victims of trauma but its not true'. like i think we are supposed to agree w these people.#or at the very least if we dont agree we're supposed to be like wow that was deep they might have a point.#they just like. say they hate her for being obsessed with her trauma when she isn't anymore and then it never comes back up#and the way they all forgive her is her fighting michael but like thats what she did in 2018 isnt that why you're mad at her????#and dont get me started on all the fake deep dialogue and monologues or the weird forced love story so they could hook the wattpad crowd.#but like the overall movie there are some ideas that are actually really good and exactly what i'd want in a halloween finale#and they just like . execute literally all of them in the worst possible way .#movie diary
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Rating band names based on their accuracy:
(I keep updating this list so check back later)
The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts
(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)
Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink
Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like
Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it
The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to
Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury
Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams
The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few
U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band
Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”
Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot
Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music
Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location
Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes
The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho
Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago
Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used
Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho
The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location
The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate
Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.
Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go
Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green
The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band
KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes
The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me
We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable
They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants
The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two
Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit
The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not
The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring
Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic
Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that
Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar
Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew
Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole
Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that
Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go
The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate
Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long
Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking
The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit
Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head
Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful
Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden
Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out
Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk
The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list
The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot
Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!
Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma
Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction
Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways
Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it
Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points
Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal
Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury
D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band
NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it
Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud
Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold
No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts
The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes
Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally
Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad
Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one
Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death
Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band
Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie
Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are
Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools
Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment
Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is
Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis
Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast
Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead
Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?
Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify
ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite
5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with
All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this
T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments
Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10
The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons
The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins
Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history
Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot
Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this
Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out
Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out
Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are
#r/196#r/196archive#196#/r/196#rule#meme#memes#shitpost#shitposting#music#rock#rock music#the Beatles#pink floyd#nirvana#foo fighters#the eagles#queen#led zeppelin#the rolling stones#metallica#red hot chili peppers#rhcp#guns n roses#backstreet boys#simon and garfunkel#the doors#Chicago#earth wind and fire#def leppard
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i haven’t stopped thinking abt wrio like,,, bodyguard wrio,,, underground fighter wrio,,, hate sex wrio,,, god help me
cw. bodyguard wriothesley, overprotective, possessive & dom, fem! reader
bodyguard wriothesley who likes to leave you staggering on the edge of a spinning insanity when he intentionally addresses you as "sweetheart", "princess" or "my lady" whenever he follows your orders, and it really doesn't matter to him where the both of you would currently be— if, lets assume, a quick shopping spree around fontaine or something more to his own liking, such as having you pushed down on a bed by your hips, parting your legs with his knee as large hands easily slide and secure around your waist.
bodyguard wriothesley who makes your mouth fall open on a hard, broken gasp when he swiftly traps you in place right under his strong frame, spurring you into immediate action by a dirty comment such as, "you're so sensitive, my lady." was in fact, a deep sort of satisfaction that gets you to ease up and forget yourself for a second, or the obvious fact that you're currently fucking your own personal bodyguard and that it might not be the best out of all your ideas, yet it still feels so fucking fine when he does it.
and archons, does he know what to do to keep you spiraling into euphoric bliss.
bodyguard wriothesley who adores whenever you tumble over your little, pathetic mewls when he pushes his fat tip inside of you for the very first time this night, and he notices how you're tightening up a bit when he adds another inch and spits on your cunt to have you all wet and nice, deep drags penetrating your most delicious spots while you're still loose enough that wriothesley can rub over your pulsating walls splendidly, tasting the soft clench of a warm, sore pussy on his throbbing girth.
bodyguard wriothesley who hooks up a smile at you, pearly whites grabbing your attention, admiring just how unbelievably cute you were— his boss, his princess and he could spend his entire day fucking you just the way you wanted it, with his dripping dick shafting through your pussy, manhandling you while plunging his lips against your tits to attach his hungry mouth to your nipples.
and how good you were, ah what a sight, able to swallow his cock, despite its size, working your sopping insides into the vast shape of his length so you're all marked up for him, because do keep in mind for a second— he was the one protecting you, and he would lie to himself if he'd say he couldn't become a little too possessive every now and then, while watching out that no one would bother you, no guy talk to you and wriothesley loved taking care of your needs, in many more ways than an outside person would assume— whilst all the others who even dared to look your precious, enticing way?
they aren't even half as tall as him, half as strong as him or most importantly, half as good in bed as him— the man was confident that no other was able to make you scream and enjoy yourself just the way he did.
and you were aware of that, sometimes cursing yourself as to why you let it go on for so long and be that unprofessional— but then he's here to quickly make you regret nothing at all— with your mind hanging in the clouds, still blank and the loud blows of gluttonous moans and your sexes bumping against each other, that you'd never ever feel more protected by any other individual, only him, your hands swiftly finding flaming solace in his soft locks when you hide yourself in his warm neck, pressing frenzied smooches around his defined shoulder as wriothesley groans out deep, "fuck— princess!", sensing how you're about to lose yourself to a high.
©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#genshin smut#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley smut
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𓏲˳˚⊹ 🧸 become obsessed with yourself.
you are stupid. i said it. there. you are stupid.
let me get this straight. you are out here listening to these people who make you insecure. you are listening and actually giving a shit about people who put you down, make you feel unworthy, inferior, less of the absolute goddess that you are. you people please, you go above and beyond to help people & change yourself for people who would never do the same and for what. for people to like you? honey nobodys gonna like you. you dont even like yourself.
listen ml you need to get your priorities straight. sit down for a sec. like. just sit and genuinely ask yourself "what do i get out of this? how does this serve me?". go on, ask yourself. all these people who constantly think theyre better than you, that they can walk all over you, the ones that dont care a bit for you with their actions even if their words say otherwise, all these habits that only make you feel more low, more insecure, and dont align with where you wanna go in any way, shape or form. honey how in the hell does any of this serve you ???😭😭
i am sick to death of seeing the word selfish everywhere the moment somebody steps up and is brave enough to try and better themselves. the amount of times ive gotten "youre so selfish" or "youve changed" or "you werent like this before" jst because i got out of the most severe depression of my life where i came close to being unalive so many times is riDICULOUS and just shows how normalised insecurity and people pleasing is nowadays.
you see, people are always trying to follow the trend, follow the leader, follow everyone else nowadays. nobody actually honours what they want & that is a reflection of their own insecurity and traumas and emotions they are too scared to face. do you really want that for yourself? youve got such big dreams, such big potential, but what on earth do you do to fulfill them?
i dont think you realise just how limitless you actually are. you can do anything. we are all born the same. its only those with the courage to get up and try who will reach what they want and achieve greater things.
GET OBSESSED WITH YOURSELF. i am so DRAINED and TIRED of caring about what people think. i like something? im gonna do it. i dont care. fuck people pleasing. what are they gonna do when youre rich and famous and successful and thriving? YOU ARE THE ONLY VALIDATION YOU NEED. life is so much easier when you genuinely could not care less, like you just dont give a single shit. you are the only person who knows you inside out and will be there with you 24/7 365. it infuriates me how self hatred is so normalised nowadays. like what the actual fuck, why would you wanna spend your entire life hating the only person whos gonna be with you every second without fail, when you are perfectly capable of reversing that???? its ridiculous.
get up. get obsessed with yourself. the only validation you should be chasing is your own. pull yourself together girl. this is ridiculous. you are so much more than this. start acting like it. be ur own biggest fan. be ur own bestest friend. everything you need is already within you. u got this. 💕
#girlblogging#wonyoungism#it girl#pink pilates princess#self love#self concept#law of assumption#manifestation#that girl#loassumption#loa blog#dream girl
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boy failures for u - i. yoichi, s. nagi, s. ryusei, b. meguru
summary; in which some boys just love you so much, they simply can't function
genre/extra tags; scenarios, fluff, comedy, projecting my love for dog energy boys, they're so pathetic /pos, bachira is clumsy, ryusei is an embarrassingly horny dude (can confirm, he gets no bitches, absolutely ZERO play!!), nagi... is perfect as he is, yoichi,,,, is just socially awkward around people he has a crush on
[gender neutral reader]
a/n; look at me being fancy this one panel banner, slay. tbh i couldn't think of a good three photos to use for it so i tried this which is kind of nice. anyways i had a sudden thought hit me and it must be done. and what better anime to write for than the one where everyone has unexplainable gay tension between each other. i swear im as caught up as possible i think and i swear the gay tension is like,, crazy.
isagi yoichi is endearing. he's so bad at being normal around you. his face flushed a cute red, and his words barely managing to leave his mouth as you talk to him so sweetly. he doesn't know how to handle a crush. and it's so cute to tease him because he just doesn't know how to respond properly.
the times where he does manage to gain enough confidence to talk a conversation with you, he's never taking the lead in any of them. he's talking [somewhat] normally to you, answering your questions and [attempting] to reply to your thoughts and responses. of course, just don't flirt with him too hard. there's like a 50 percent chance he will understand it or not.
he can't even admire you correctly. when he attempts to give you a compliment, he's saying all the wrong words and apologizing profusely like he offended your entire bloodline. he's so utterly enchanted by you, he wonders if you're an angel sent just for him.
"you're so nice, y/n."
"huh?"
"i-i mean you're really cute! wait- i didn't mean that! fuck- not that i don't think you look cute! you're really a great person, you know?! sorry! i'm just gonna go back to practice...!"
nagi seishiro is so lazy that you can't help but watch over him. you understand why reo adores him (a little too much). he's a boy with pretty privilege and talent. he talks to you with such honesty that he unintentionally flirts with you. he doesn't know a lot of things well, but even he's had his fair share with understanding liking people (but that's only with the random dating sims he's tried).
when he manages to get on his feet, whether it's for a soccer match or you, he's stuck by you like a cute koala. he whines about everything being "too much of a hassle." but he finds himself walking around looking for you, no matter how far you are. he whines to you about how he had to get up to find you, and he's cuddling close to you. his mouth turned into his signature X shape as he pouts at you, annoyed that you just had to be away from him for more than a minute.
he tries so hard to be around you but at the cost of his laziness, he mutters to you about how much easier it would be if you just stay with him all the time like his purple-haired companion or his cactus pet. he fell for you first, but he makes it so easy for you to fall harder.
"why do you always have to do stuff?"
"it's my job, sei."
"you should just stay with me all the time. you take care of me so well."
shidou ryuusei is annoyingly desperate for you. if isagi was endearing, shidou was insolent. he speaks before he thinks. he has no shame in chasing after you. it's quite a feat that you haven't even shooed him away as much as sae has. you sort of find a friend in sae because of that. he always rolls his eyes when you mention him. he wonders why you keep being around the blonde jock, and you tell him, "who doesn't love a pathetic man?"
when he talks to you, he just can't read a room with you in it. he's the type of guy to say "this shot is for you." and it hits the goal post and then to his face. of course he'd never actually miss in a real match but i can guarantee that it would happen during a practice match. he unintentionally humiliates himself every time he tries to be cool. if sae is there, it's even worse. he's trying to bump up the flirting up to a 200 and failing miserably to woo either of you.
he's like those tweets where it's like, "how did i pull them? easy. i just went, PLEASEPLEAPLSEPWPLEAPLELA-". without fail, he basically tries to re-enact that but he doesn't even pull you because you'd much rather wait for him to actually be a decent man and grow the rest of his brain. though it doesn't seem he'll learn his lesson anytime soon.
"did i ever tell you how hot you look right now?"
"yes. you have. multiple times. today."
"please go out with me."
"no."
bachira meguru is confusing. he's clingy, blunt, teasing, a little stupid but has the spirit, and an absolute cutie. he's passionate about what he likes. and surprise, surprise, he likes you. he's an infodumper but you don't mind at all. but sometimes those talks take a hard left into just telling you how much he likes you. you better hope you're strong because he will be jumping on you for a hug.
when he's just buzzing with excitement, he can't help but scramble by your side to cling onto you in any way that you will allow him to. he's not as boy failure as the others on this list because even when he fails to capture your heart, he's still succeeding in his book. he loves when you give him any sliver of attention. that's probably his thing as a boy failure. he is a hyper and needy dog who's too big to cuddle with but doesn't care. and you can't say no because then they just stare at you with those big eyes until you cave.
he's the type of guy to be confused when people ask if you're dating him and you say no. "what do you mean we're not dating? i thought this was the dating." he's never actually confessed, but he considers his "s-tier affection" to be confession enough. but he's kind of coward whether he realizes it or not. he's scared to actually say that he wants to be yours, but that's like an angsty story for another time, SO SHUT.
"what if we kissed? like right now?"
"but we're not dating, meguru."
"we're not? we should."
"i'll think about it."
"no think! just do!"
#blue lock x reader#blue lock nagi#blue lock#blue lock nagi x reader#blue lock bachira#blue lock bachira x reader#bachira x reader#bllk x reader#bllk nagi#bllk isagi#bllk shidou#shidou ryuusei x reader#ryusei shidou x reader#blue lock shidou#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro#isagi yoichi#isagi x reader#blue lock isagi#bachira meguru#bllk bachira
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So, what if reader as spider person do smth WRONG like bad wrong, miguel got pissed (an understatement) and they run from miguel, they manage to hide from miguel for a good while but miguel eventually catch them, some fight happens and miguel has had enough he broke some bones and made sure the other spider person also couldn't do anything (the venom thing). The rest is up to you!
WICKED GAMES
⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Spider!Reader
⊱ Summary: You decided to test Miguel’s limits and took something that didn’t belong to you. So, what’s the obvious response when the most terrifying Spiderman finds out? You hide. Unfortunately for you, Miguel enjoys the “seek” part a bit too much.
⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Dark Content, Scary? Content, Jealousy, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Dom!Miguel, Hate-Fucking, Face Slapping, Orgasm (M+F), Primal Kink, Biting, Creampie, Choking, Man-Handling, Hair Pulling.
Heavy footsteps fall to the concrete with each stride you take, lunging forward in a panicked haste. Soft breaths tremble in your lungs. The tightness in your chest grows and grows as you head further through streets.
Iridescent lights flicker above your head, and the smell of metal is making your eyes glass over. Even whilst slinking through these dingy streets and crooked alleys, you still haven’t entirely made out where you actually are.
And it’s all your fault.
Is it that bad you wanted to be treated like an adult?
You’re a grown woman. A Spider.
But Miguel refused to see you as such, always keeping an eye on you “just in case.”
You were sick of feeling like glass, and you were determined to prove yourself, so you made a wrong decision that just felt so right at the time;
You stole a portal watch from his lab.
Your naïve belief of thinking Miguel wouldn’t find out only made matters worse, and made him fucking livid when he did.
Thanks to a tip from Hobie back at Headquarters, you’ve managed to get a head start. So here you are, jumping from universe to universe, world to world, trying to escape the consequences.
After what seems like hours of running, you’ve arrived in some sort of warehouse, dead and silent. Dripping pipes and crunching glass are the only sounds accompanying your heaving breaths.
But just when you thought you’re safe, a sudden whirring noise rings through the air, echoing around you.
There’s a hovering gash, pulsing and glowing, omitting a flurry of blue particles. A burst of sparks, red and orange, rip open this cosmic, hexagonal wound to reveal a vacuum of time and space.
You make out a burly shape slipping out of it.
The portal leaves as quickly as it came, disappearing in a flash of light. A masked figure stands on the deserted warehouse floor, unmoving.
Using your webs, you pull yourself up to the beams of the roof, hiding and looking down.
You already know who it is.
Pulling the navy mask from his face, wavy hair ruffled and eyes dark, Miguel looks around the seemingly vacant room — you’re nowhere to be seen.
“I know you’re in here,” he drawls out, voice heavy. “It’ll be a lot quicker for me, and easier on you, if you just come out now.”
You say nothing, waiting with bated breath.
So does he.
He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling in irritation.
“Fucking…fine!” the brunette tuts, teeth gnashing together, chest heaving as he sighs. “You want to play a little hide-and-seek? Be my guest.”
Right now, you’re barely paying attention to his rambling; your gaze remains locked on a chance of escape.
Embedded in a wall across the room, is a vent.
You might get to it. If you’re quick enough.
Doing your best to stay quiet, perched on the balls on your feet, you slink across the metal beam, using only the webs of your palms to move with haste.
Shuddery breaths slip through your lips as you pull yourself closer to freedom.
“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing,” Miguel‘s voice echoes out from somewhere down below.
But, stupidly, you pause.
You take the chance to peek down, and the sight makes your heart fall — Miguel is stood by a light switch, one sharp finger resting against the button.
He’s looking straight at you, eyes crinkled in a humourless smile.
“We’re playing by my rules.”
And suddenly, the room flickers into a sea of black.
You manage to bury your scream somewhere between your chest and throat. One hand remains slapped over your mouth, tears pouring silently. You cling to the rafter, pressing your whole body down, swallowing wordless pleas.
Cold metal grunts beneath your nails. The sounds of creaking and shuffling echo around you, calling out in the dark.
Then, it’s eerily silent.
Hallowed breaths shake from your ribs. Your throat burns, and you blink rapidly, trying to find some sense of direction in this surrounding inky abyss.
But it’s no use; you need to get out here now.
You muster up the courage to drop to the floor, perching on the balls of your feet. Droplets of water splash around you, and force back a squeal, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing.
You swivel around, waiting for the reach of a clawed hand.
Still, nothing.
Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s fighting back to urge to pounce on you right now, forcing his hand away from his crotch. But the look of pure anguish on your face has his cock harder than ever.
You’re pivoting on your feet every second, trying to make out where he can be.
It’s like he’s everywhere.
“Y’know, I had to force LYLA to show me your location on the Quantum Map?” his voice travels.
Gasping, you turn, swinging at the dark. White, hot thrill pulses through veins, pulsing through your body, tempting you with a high you can’t find anywhere else.
“Threatened to dismantle her software,” Miguel chuckles. You can hear the smirk in his tone. “It was funny, you should’ve heard her beg.”
“See?” you breathe out, head swivelling. “Even your personal AI knows you’re a fucking psycho,”
“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone who’s scared of me,” the dark calls out. The sound of deep laughter chimes around.
You swallow hard, blinking — it’s not a secret.
You are scared of him.
A majority of people, in the Spider Society or not, are scared of Miguel. He’s used to the looks of agitation, the fleeting glances, the scurrying.
But for some reason, he takes great pride knowing he can make you twitch.
“Do I scare you?” he whispers, humming your name. He sounds so close, words brushing your ear.
Behind you, a heavy claw reaches out of the dark, running gently up your spine — a warning.
The movement has you rushing forward, scrambling away, hiccuping out a scream.
You start to run, panicked.
Where to, you don’t know, but you’re running, fast and blindly.
Shoes hitting the floor with each step, you stumble and drag yourself forward, staggering through this maze of black, feeling the walls for any sign of exit.
Miguel follows your movements, waiting for his moment to strike, hard and true.
He watches the way you pull the mask from your face, breathing heavily in frustration, nimble hands tugging at the bolted doors and windows.
He smiles, seeing the panic settle in on your features when you realise you’ve run out of web fluid, leaving you stranded on this warehouse floor.
Suddenly, he hears nails scratching the concrete. He watches on as you grope the floor blindly, feeling out for something.
“No,” you whisper to yourself. “S-shit, fucking shit!”
Then, it clicks. Finally, the last domino has fallen.
Miguel grins in the shadows, eyes resting on the puddle by his feet. A soft glow shimmers against the water, revealing something digital and sunken.
You’ve dropped your portal watch.
How could you have lost it? It was just on your wrist. How could have been so careless, so stupid? Now, you’re trapped.
No longer relying on your silence, you begin to kick hard at the chained doors, grunting and groaning as the iron jangles.
Right now, you don’t have the time to fucking critique yourself, you need to leave.
“Fucking. Open!” you breathe out, booting at the metal. The head of the lock begins to bend, the doors shaking under the weight of your blow.
But just as hope begins to beam, a sudden crackling thud booms above you.
You turn.
The end of the warehouse is flooded in light, fluorescents humming. As you peer down, a tall figure crouches, and stands, facing you.
Miguel’s grinning hard, fangs and claws on show.
Your stare, eyes wide, and begin to kick harder at the door.
Bang.
The second light follows, illuminating the ground with a musky yellow. That figure in the distance grows closer and closer.
You can hear his feet pounding against the floor.
Bang.
Just as the third light shines down, the door shatters out, and a scream crawls up from your throat.
Miguel lunges at you, fangs bared, tackling you to the ground.
Heavy hands wrap around your throat, crumpling your shrieks to mere cries as the pair of you topple.
You’re cursing, kicking, flailing as much as you could, pummelling at his chest, arms, anything you can reach.
The larger man has settled himself between your legs, pinning you to the floor.
“C’mon, tú zorra, keep hitting me,” he grunts, goading you with a grin. “Fucking see what happens.”
In the tussle, you manage to punch him hard in his ribs, releasing an audible crack.
Miguel sucks in a breath, cold through the teeth as his brows . His jaw is set, tense and square. Rich brown eyes growing ever darker.
Before you can even think, a fist locked in the tresses of your hair, yanking hard. Pain burns at your scalp as Miguel tugs your head to the side, exposing the flesh of your neck.
A flash of teeth, a shining wink of a blood-tinged fang. Then he bites down.
Hard.
The world blurs for a quick second.
You feel flesh tear, and the smell of hot, wet metal fills the air. Miguel is almost growling against you. Canines shift beneath your skin.
Something, warm and sticky, is dripping down your neck. The room feels so clammy all of a sudden.
Vision softening, everything is a wave of colours and sounds. You can barely slur out your confusion as Miguel’s hands run along the shape of you, ghosting your clothed cunt.
“Y’wanna act like a bitch, huh?” Miguel hisses — you feel fabric tearing, pulling against your skin. Goosebumps decorate your body as you lay half naked on the ground.
“Looks like I’ve gotta remind who fucking owns you.”
Two fingers push against your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against them. Saliva escapes from the corners of your lips and covers your chin as Miguel’s digits press against your tongue.
He tastes like blood and salt.
Your eyes flutter shut as you moan around his fingers, blinking out tears.
“You pathetic little slut,” Miguel’s huffing out a laugh, grasping your face, thrusting his middle and forefinger back and forth, grinning as you choke.
Miguel feels your fingers careening against the stiff muscle of his forearm creeping along his shoulders to find home in his hair, ready to pull again.
He jolts, moving quick to pin them against the floor with one heavy hand— despite the Rapture flowing through your bloodstream right now, he wasn’t dumb to let you even attempt to get a hold on him.
He tears his fingers from your mouth, slamming his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your teeth.
You couldn’t even find the strength to fight back right now — all you can feel is him. His body on you, hands groping, his mouth melding against yours.
Miguel finds your futile efforts quite cute. But your struggling isn’t helping you at all, and it’s only turning him on.
He’s grinning against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, down your neck. The sudden switch has you tense, wary, like a deer in headlights.
“Turn over.” The sentence wasn’t a request, but a demand.
One that he wasn’t patient enough to wait for.
Within a second, he’s got you flipped over, face pressed against the cold flood, arms pinned behind your back. Your bare ass sticks up in the air, and Miguel strikes the skin hard.
Choked pleas fall from your lips, but that doesn’t stop him. One, two, three more times you feel the roughness of his palms against your ass.
Your skin is singing in pain, every nerve set aflame at each swat.
“Ngh, God! I’m sorry! ” you squeal out, “I’m sorry!”
Miguel’s jaw is set once more, eyes steely as he stares straight at your glistening cunt.
“Oh, you’re sorry?” he breathes out, each word dripping in ridicule. A rough finger presses against the hot wetness building between your legs, sticky and sweet.
“No, you’re not. Not yet.”
A loud cry escapes you as Miguel plunges his cock, swollen and hard, deep in the sweltering heat of your cunt. Sharp pain throbs within you for a brief second, pulsing between your leg.
Fangs bared, Miguel groans at your grip. “Fucking hell.”
Tears drip down your face, darkening the concrete as each drop falls with every surge of his hips, the fat of your behind smashing against his abdomen.
“Oh, my G-God,” you stutter out sacrilege, nails biting in your palms. “Fuck, Miguel.”
As much as you want to hate this, hate him, you can’t control how your body feels. Your hips appear to have a mind of their own, pushing back in his grip. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each move, walls hugging his length with a tightness he’s never felt before.
There’s a sweltering mix of pain and pleasure, sweetness and salt, swirling inside of you as he’s hitting every goddam spot. Right now, you’re in limbo, on edge, just waiting for that one moment to push you into bliss.
And Miguel knows it. He can feel it. Smell it. Taste it, practically.
Yet, he’s seething.
How dare you enjoy yourself after making go to all this trouble? How do you have the fucking gall to find joy in this?
Heavy grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as his stray hand releases abandon your clasped wrists, only to grip at the back of your neck and push your face further into the ground.
“Dumb. Little. Slut,” he spits, emphasising on each word with a further thrust of his cock, drilling faster, harder, in the hot, wet mess of your cunt. “‘Course y’fuckin’ enjoying this. Never known a girl more hungry f’dick than you.”
You could only hiccup out small pleas as the taller man berates you with scorching insults, accompanied with a mocking laugh that melts into a moan.
Miguel wants to last longer - truly, he does. Nothing is more a sight for sore eyes than the pleading, whimpering mess you are.
But the sounds you’re making and the feeling of your walls tightening in on him, pulls him closer and closer to release quick than he intends.
He can’t help himself.
“Take it, hah, you…fuck…mi corazón.”
You whimper, eyes slinking shut as you breathe out a choked, “A-anything for you.”
With those last three brazen words, Miguel gives one final thrust, leaning over you to bite down on the curve of your neck as he comes — you’re both seeing stars.
It feels like you’re melting, from the inside out.
You can barely comprehend anything but these ebbing waves of sweet pleasure humming from between your twitching legs as you come, your plumped lips caught between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood.
Miguel’s rolling his hips in time with yours, panting, whimpering in your ear as he rides out this high for as long as he can, whispering sweet nothings and broken promises against your body.
You can feel this white mess sticking to your thighs, smeared against your abdomen, dripping with small plinks onto the cold concrete.
Miguel presses open-mouthed kisses down your back, running his tongue over the indents his fangs left in your skin.
“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” A hand returns to the nape of your neck, clutching at your hair.
A familiar wave of dread washes over you.
“Just wait till we get back to the lab.”
#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x you#miguel fan fiction#miguel spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x you#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere miguel x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman#atsv fic#astv miguel#yandere!miguel o’hara#dark content#smut#yandere smut#yandere miguel#reader insert#miguel x y/n#across the spiderverse
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in every other life- s.r.
a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan.
summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy.
wc: 3.3k (holy shit)
While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair.
Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind.
But he wanted her.
His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.
It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her.
She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life.
“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure.
“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”
It’s a calculated question.
She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness.
It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility.
When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists.
But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his.
She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.
“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”
It’s all that he can do not to freeze up.
Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way.
And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time.
“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.”
It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete.
“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”
She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers?
“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.
“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”
Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-
Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him.
It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy.
“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded.
“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“
Please kill me, he thinks. Please.
“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”
Thank god.
Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again.
When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality.
The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does.
Ben, is not in fact, going away.
If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore.
It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.
“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”
She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.
But her cup says Ben.
“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”
She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.
“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”
If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have.
“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”
It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes.
The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison.
“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is.
“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.”
Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition.
Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.
“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”
It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess.
He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile.
Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp.
“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.”
In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his.
It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company.
He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it.
The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem.
At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.
But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben.
She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face.
He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?
This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?
It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.
“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?
“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”
His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights.
Ironic, really.
The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself.
In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering.
She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known.
“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.
“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for.
“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”
Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this.
“I’m not entirely sure what it is.”
She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold.
“This whole Ben thing.”
“Oh.”
Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to.
He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from.
“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass.
“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time.
She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation.
It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot.
Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together.
Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting.
“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-
“I only went out with him the once.”
“What?”
“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”
Romance?
Wasn’t it romance, though?
Her eyes widen in something akin to horror.
“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“
“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”
She blinks.
“No?”
He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry.
He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment.
He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire.
Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s
Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her.
“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion.
She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.
It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him.
“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness. “There was never anyone else to pick.”
#spencer reid#spencer Reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds fanfic
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“YOU SOUND SO GORGEOUS, DARLING.”⠀⠀⠀⟡⠀NANAMI
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Shhh~ sweetheart, you’ll wake the neighbors,” kento’s strained voice purred into your mouth, your equally hot breaths fanning against one another’s face after every rut he thrusted into you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one of your arms was stretched back completely, knuckles painted white as your fingers curled into the fabric of the couch you were seated on. the other was wrapped around kento’s head, fingertips entwining within his distressed curls. one of kento’s large arms was slithered around your waist, his grip all too firm as the other hand simply rested against your ass cheek that had nothing more than a tomato-red hand print practically engraved onto it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the tip of his pulsating erection hit your cervix so beautifully, cries of ecstasy hiccuping from your mouth each time he pounded his hips into your own. nothing could’ve prepared you for the absolute beat down your dripping cunt would receive when you accepted kento’s offer of having a few drinks at his place. it all happened so fast. within a few sips and you two were at it like rabid animals.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“you sound so gorgeous, darling~” he continued to compliment you, giving into your gut-wrenching praise kink that had your stomach churning every time he spoke dearly to you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the way he alluded you was completely unlike how he was abusing every last inch of your sopping pussy. the girth of his over-average dick stretched you out wonderfully, your eyes rolling back all the while you rested your forehead against his own. with each hip snap nanami gave you, his grasp around your waist tightened—almost as if he were to let go he’d lose you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the veins that protruded his leaking erection raked your clenching walls with ease, whimpers of mercy exerting your sweet swollen lips. kento couldn’t help himself. the way you acted so pristine and elegant in front of everyone, yet was the complete opposite when behind closed doors had driven the man mad. he wanted nothing more than to rip your prissy little blazer suits to shreds in front of everyone and show them how much you enjoyed taking every last inch of his dick.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he wanted his shape to be engraved into you. for every time he slid through your folds, your body would instantly recognize him and suck him in completely. well, more than it already does. he craved for littering your silky skin in bite marks so that every person you ever crossed paths with would know who was fucking your pathetic cunt, and how good he was treating it too.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀no matter how many times he denied it, he found himself smiling at just the scent of your infamous perfume. how it suffocated his entire existence and even left trails on all pieces of clothing he’s ever worn to work. whenever he saw you, it was like restraining a tiger fighting himself so he wouldn’t attack you with his lips and strip you to nothing but your bare, beautiful body.
NOTEZ : erm !!! all of these professor nanami drabbles will be in the same universe with the same reader, so do with that info what u please.
© TAKST4Z 2023 — all rights reserved. mature discretion. please do not plagiarize or steal any of my works or grapnics.
#❙ ⋆ 𝒁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝑺 ❞#nanami kento#jjk smut#nanami x reader#jjk x reader#nanami smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami kento smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x you#female reader#anime smut#anime x reader
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NSFW F1 Driver Profiles: ✴ Max Verstappen ✴
smut ✴ 18+ readers only please
I. Flirt.
He’s not exactly known as a certified rizzster, but he does carry that Champion’s confidence and aura of success everywhere he goes. That usually works in his favour, but he would only approach if he were solidly in his own element. You’re a guest in the garage? Perfect. You’ve stumbled into the club where he’s having his birthday party in the VIP section? No problem, he’ll get you through the ropes. He’s much better at flirting once he’s in a relationship and you’ve established rapport and trust. He would rather be quiet than look stupid, which pretty much dissipates once you’re officially dating. Then, he’s more than glad to look like an idiot in front of you, especially if it will make you laugh.
II. Propositioning.
He’s honest and extremely blunt. Straight up asks “do you want to have sex right now?” or “can we fuck when we get back to the hotel?” He purposefully enjoys saying it explicitly in front of someone, so it will instantly have your cheeks burning and your eyes furiously glaring at him. Max likes riling you up. He also likes that you smack or kick him in reaction. Then you yell at him about being a true menace to society or punctuate your whacks with You’re! So! Crude! And then he just has to make good on the accusation, doesn’t he?
III. Libido.
It's pretty high. If you ended up fucking every time he felt like it, it might end up being two or three times a day. This isn’t to say that can’t or hasn’t been achieved, but it's not exactly practical when he has such a meticulously timed day, down to the approximate minute he must be asleep. But he’d roll his eyes if you ever told him that you considered him a sexual person. It’s not that he doesn’t think he is; it's just that the entire concept of sexual person seems redundant to him. Humans are sexual. Humans have the animal urge to procreate; therefore, it’s built into the human experience. It just seems like an unnecessary distinction to him. But he craves sex; he loves it and is constantly either thinking about it or talking about it. Despite this, he still has the audacity to turn to you and shape his mouth to say, “oh, so you.” with an evil smirk when he finds out what the word ‘nymphomaniac’ means.
IV. Turn-Ons: tame & nasty.
Tame: Your exposed neck. String bikinis. A thong’s whale tail. When your Dutch isn’t half bad. Back massages. Treating you to nice things. Referring to his cats as your own. When you stand behind him whilst he’s sitting and run your hands down the planes of his body. That time he somehow was able to go to Oktoberfest, and you wore that traditional dress (he’s honestly never stopped thinking about your titties in it). Coming and straddling his lap when he calls you over. When you subconsciously reach for him in the middle of the night. Ignoring other men in favour of paying him attention. Calling him a world champion. Whenever you let him hang all over you.
Nasty: Spanking. The way your ass ripples after getting spanked. Watching you undress while he remains fully clothed. Telling you what to do and filming it. Sundress and no panties. Your scent after sex. You taking control. Your hand around his throat. Nudes taken with his trophies. Cumming on your chest. Doing it in the dark with the big hotel windows open and city lights twinkling. Threesomes but only with another woman...for now. When you talk him through a handjob/blowjob and an orgasm (sometimes he likes it if you’re a little mean, too). When he does something embarrassing or awkward during sex and you just sweep his hair out of his eyes and laugh because it’s no big deal.
V. Self-stimulation.
Porn is definitely an option for Max. He won’t be forthright with it, but he’s seen his fair share of the degrading, aggressive stuff. Obviously, you’d wring his neck if you found out that not only is a multi-millionaire too cheap to pay for his porn, but he’s freeriding on the most misogynist content he could find. Well, now that he’s a spoken-for man, he has a hard time keeping it up for women who aren’t you. It’s like he’s imprinted on you; he can only finish if he lets his memory/imagination or private folder on his phone take over. He’s not above a midnight call to you—really no regard for whatever you might be doing (and that’s kinda part of the fun)---all whiny and horny and begging you to at least stay on the line while he strokes off.
VI. Foreplay.
He lowkey needs foreplay. His ego would never let him admit it, but sex is quite emotional for him. Max has never really excelled with one-night stands because he either finds himself not caring enough or caring too much. He felt like things changed between you once you started sleeping together–in the best way possible. Of course, there are occasions when you’re both just raring and pawing at each other as fast as you can. But generally, he likes to be warmed up and tended to, too. Dry humping is always a good time for him, and he likes watching you work your hips against him (and the patch of wetness that always transfers from your clothes to his) He’s also a big kisser. During sex, before, after, or without even thinking about sex, he wants to kiss you. Likes the heat of your breath, the soft feel of your tongue. Anywhere. Everywhere.
VII. Rhythm.
To be honest, because of his headstrong tendencies and fast-paced thinking, it’s sort of become your job to set the rhythm. It’s not even that he wants to take you fast and hard; he just kind of…does. Even when he’s in a romantic headspace, he can just have a hard time slowing down and enjoying the moment. It’s not really a surprise to you. It’s the same way he is in every other part of his life. He doesn’t always realise that the habit of trying to speed through his least favourite parts of life has bled over into rushing through some of the good things too. No need to worry, though. The slow rock of your hips, the sweetness of your voice, and the patience in your hands is all he really needs. Maybe that’s why even thinking about sex with someone else is hard. You just get him. You take care of him. You give him exactly what he needs.
VIII. How He Likes It.
Personally, he likes it deep. Especially because you are usually in more controlling positions. The eye contact, the kisses, the dirty talk. It’s just so much better. His favourite would be any variation on cowgirl (equally fond of front-facing and reverse–for titties and ass, respectively). He feels best in what some might call the chair position, where you’ll sit on his lap as he sits on the bed or a chair. In this position, he can hit your g-spot almost certainly while one of his hands works your clit. He’ll kiss down your shoulder, your cheek, your neck while your hands roam his thighs and your own body, reaching down to feel the two of you connecting. He’s somewhat willing to try new things but only for so long til he’s huffing and just whining for you to crawl on his lap and take over.
IX. Location, location, location.
Craziest is probably in an alleyway behind a club. Really only is deemed the craziest because of how many close calls you had while trying to do it. You both know it would be a disaster if anyone found out; however… There are not usually many people wandering the streets at 3am and with so many restrictions with his fame and so much alcohol in your systems, it wasn’t that hard to convince you to give it a go. However, his favourite ‘place’ you’ve ever had sex is, for sure, the post-win blowjob he gets after every win. Obviously, some wins are more key than others, so you’ll do the best you can to create unique experiences for him each time. But honestly, he doesn’t really care. Just needs the warmth of your mouth and the shine of pride in your eyes when he’s finished. He also fantasises about Private Jet sex, even came close a few times when he still owned his. But the prophecy was not complete without you.
X. Kink.
Pretty kinky. He’s down to try a lot but also has hard boundaries he has no issue expressing. He can be sweet and gentle and loving just as much as he can be rough and aggressive. He’s pretty good at catering to what you both feel at the moment. If you need him to go softer or just want to feel him better, nuzzling your face shyly into his neck with a soft whine of the request, he’s instantly adapting to what you want. It’s not that you’re “in charge”; he just really wants to please you. Or, if the mood strikes and you feel turned on by the clench in his jaw and the frustration of his voice, you’re more than willing to ask him to take it all out on you. And he can give you that too. The biggest fantasy fulfilled is probably after-race sex of any variety, even with his press officer banging incessantly on the locked door while you try and make use of the three whole minutes you have until his trainer comes back with the key. Despite how common it is, he’s not really into the Daddy or Mommy kink. He’d never outright say it, but he’s got enough mommy and daddy issues; he doesn’t need to confuse his psyche by bringing you into the mix, too.
XI. Bedroom aids/Toys
Feels pretty neutral about toys. Again, his common sense kind of takes over, and he gets why you need it. Does hold on to some hope that you don’t use it while he’s home and he’s readily available. Though if he is gaming all day and won’t tear himself way…Sometimes you’ll just set up the vibrator to rattle loudly against the headboard, so he knows what you’re doing. Almost always, he’ll get off the game and come play with you instead. He likes a lot of lube, if available. If he could squeeze some more ooey gooey stuff all over you just to make it nastier and wetter, he would.
XII. Cum.
He’s messy finisher. Not just on you but generally. He doesn’t care about messing up the bed or leaving too much evidence. To him, it’s sex; how are you supposed to control yourself during it? What, like people, can actually plan where they’ll cum? Perhaps it’s because he grew up relatively wealthy, or he’s just gotten used to people picking up after him. The number of times he’d told you, “just leave it, babe. The maids will get it.” while you scoff horrified at him. You make sure he realises his mistake, flinging whatever soiled garment at his face.
XIII. Pleasure reciprocation.
He’ll go down on you if you’re into it. He tends to think he’s probably a little bit better than he is, but he’s not bad. If anything, he’s got a passion and dedication for it. He likes the feeling of making you finish quickly or making you feel so good you can’t even keep your eyes open. He’s experienced but still clumsy. He knows his way around (mostly) but likes it better when you tell him what feels good or react to what he’s doing. He doesn’t have enough patience to keep the focus on you for /forever/ so he’s not one to spend hours down there but you get your fair share.
XIV. Bonus.
Once you had sex in front of two of his friends who were touching themselves. It kinda just happened. You were out glamping for some EDM festival in Europe, pretending to have the humility of camping with all the five star amenities you could need. It was in the early hours of the morning after you’d been partying all night. One of them had complimented you, telling Max he was lucky to have a girlfriend like you. Then, Max kissed you. Never a huge fan of PDA, you always followed his lead on how much he wanted to show to the public. But then his hand was up yours skirt and when you broke away, he used his strength against you to pull you closer and kiss down your neck. Max was two fingers deep into you by the time you even remembered his friends were in the room. He told you to talk them through it, just like you did for him. But you couldn’t. First, the pads of his fingers had reached deep and found the spot that made it hard to thing, let alone talk. You weren’t much of an instructor, mumbling a few cues before popping the button on Max’s pants and pulling him free. He was breathing heavy and hard in your ear, moans muffled against your skin as you faced his friends. They’d fully thrown themselves into to pleasure, hands wrapped around their dicks and stroking in the same deseperate rhythm you were working with Max. As you neared an orgasm, you spread your legs, giving his friends a better view of how he filled you. It drove Max crazy, he moaned against your neck, a cocky laugh coming off the end of it. His friends finished before you–unable to keep up with the pace you and Max had set. Then, Max who helped you ride out your own after him, brain only malfunctioning a few times as you milked him into overstimulation. He made sure to show off how he’d finished inside you to his friends. Then the two of you just showered and went to bed like it never happened.
#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen smut#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fic#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#profile*#mv
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Preggo wife Joel is the type of person who would pull out in the middle of sex and go down on her just to hear wife moan louder, I just know he would be f r e a k y af
notes: Let me tell you…all fluff and cuteness and humor aside, this man fucks like a beast. How else do you think she got knocked up?? Here’s what the man was like just days after finding out you were expecting.
Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Joel Miller - Husband, Father, Daddy
Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral F receiving
18+ ONLY
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Joel’s got your waist pinned to the bed, rutting his cock into your soaked heat as your poor legs flail by his side. Harsh grunts leave his open mouth with each rut, his fingertips digging into your hips to imprint himself. You’ve cum three times now, not really having any other option but taking his thick length that has somehow made a very comfortable home inside your cunt, conformed to its hardened shape each time the tip punches your gummy walls.
“FUck baby look at ya, takin’ my cock s’deep,” he groans, pushing in all the way until his colliding with your cervix before grinding his pelvis flush against yours. "My pretty wife, all mineminemine."
“I can’t—Joel please,” you whine.
He starts thrusting again and you yelp, throwing your head back with silent cries of pleasure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes you can—took a baby in this pussy didn’t you? Fuckin’ bred ya, shit gonna look so good like a Mommy ohmygod.” He grins, nearly cumming at the thought of your tummy swelling so quickly. He keeps thinking it’s already showing, the little pudge making its way evident for the world to see. “Cum for me one more time, please baby need to hear it.”
You shake your head, covering your mouth.
He growls, pulling out and slapping your cunt hard. spankspank against your abused clit as he tosses your thighs up, presenting your slit to him. He latches his widened jaw to cover the entire area of your exposed core, humming into your sweet little pussy. your sticky arousal flows into his mouth, and he sucks every bit that tries to escape him. Eats you out like it’ll be the last thing he does.
“Let it out,” he growls, flicking his tongue against your clit with little sucks. “Louder, scream it baby," he swats your sensitive nub again, "fuckin’ louder, I said!” His fingers plunge into your hole, twisting and slicking them up, expertly wringing you of your loud moans he all but deserves.
“Ah—ah yeah oh fuckyeah!! Yesyesyesyesohmygod Joel— Daddy please I’M—!” You body freezes in a vicious position, rolling your pussy further into his mouth as he works your orgasm over you.
“That’s my girl.” He spanks your cunt once with a satisfied smirk, your whole body jolting from the impact before he’s forcing his cock into your tightened walls. "I'm fuckin' my wife's pussy so fuckin' good, she can't even speak."
Your eyes roll back to you skull as he sets a brutal pace again.
“Daddy’s home’s right here,” he moans.
You grip his bicep with the little clutch of sanity you have left, an erotic, delirious smile plastered on your face. He obsessively strokes your belly with his thumb. There's no intent to stop fucking you. That one more cum was total bullshit but who fucking cares, when he's claiming you so good. Despite your hoarse throat, you continue to let out desperate whimpers of encouragement for him. His tongue caught between his teeth with little snarls and pants, staring down at the spot where you're joined, soaking everything between you two.
You’re so cock drunk for him, it’s no wonder your body was so willing to accept his seed. He just has that effect. Maybe pregnancy won’t be so bad for you after all…
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Taglist
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop
#joel miller fan fiction#pedro pascal smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#last of us fanfiction#last of us smut#joel miller x you#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel dealing with preggo wife#the last of us fic#tlou smut#the last of us smut#last of us fic
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I don’t understand the fandoms love for Daemon, by all rights he should be as hated as Joffrey was. Not only did he do almost everything Joffrey did, he also did worse. Even Tywin wouldn’t hold a candle to his cruelty. I understand liking a villainous character, I do too with Cersei and Tywin, but I’ve never went out of my way to whitewash their characters. I love them because they are villainous and practically irredeemable, if team black stans liked Daemon for his villainous actions before and during the Dance of Dragons I wouldn’t have any problems with it. But the fact that they go out of their way to defend him killing Rhea Royce because “he was forced into a marriage he didn’t like!!!!” As if she wasn’t too. And the fact that they defend him sending Blood and Cheese to psychologically torture Haelena and kill Jaehaerys due to “a son for a son it’s only right” when they despise Alicents moment of madness when her son was denied justice, makes me want to hurl.
It’s alright to like villainous characters, it doesn’t make you a bad person if you like them. But you know what makes you a moronic person? Whitewashing everything that makes a character compelling because you want to like them without seeming like a ‘bad person’. Your opinion on a character does not determine your own morality, it doesn’t make you better or worse than someone who hates them. But what it does, when you erase their entire identity as a rouge to make them more palatable to you, is make you seem moronic, stupid, and lacking any critical thinking and reading comprehension skills.
Rhaenyra is a compelling character because she is entitled and spoiled and lacks any political experience, she shows how badly Viserys fucked up when he tried to compensate for his guilt of murdering Aemma. Alicent is a compelling character because she is a mother who is trying her best to protect her children from the reality that if Daemon took the throne for Rhaenyra, he would kill all of them because they are a threat. She is even more of a compelling character in the books because of her ambition and cunning and want for her family to rise far above the ‘station’ of being a noble house in the Reach (as if house Hightower aren’t the oldest house in Westeros who could trace their lineage back to both the Garth Greenhand the high king of the first men and the Andal Kings that came afterwards). Daemon, for all that I dislike him as a character, is compelling for his ruthlessness and shortsightedness in his pursuit of the throne. He didn’t raise an army for Viserys because he thought he was a competent leader, he did it because it raised his own standing within Westeros, he groomed Rhaenyra not because he loved her, but because having him in her good graces means that he stood a better chance of being king after she was named heir. His ruthlessness is compelling. Taking it away to make him into a ‘malewife’ or a ‘loving father’ or a man who is lacking any ambition beyond wanting a valyrian wife is taking away his agency. It makes him seem like a Gary Sue who only wants the throne because his brother said Rhaenyra was heir. It makes it so that he is so completely white bread like that not even I, someone who loved the more morally bankrupt characters in ASOIAF can find him agreeable in any way shape or form.
Daemon is a fundamentally morally bankrupt character and he should stay that way. If you like him you should acknowledge and accept that he is one of the ‘bad guys’. Just as Cersei fans acknowledge and accept that she is fundamentally a morally bankrupt person who is selfish to the extreme. We like morally black characters because they are morally black. To make excuses for their actions is to take away their agency which makes them unlikable and very hate-able.
Daemons actions aren’t justifiable, blood and cheese would never be justified. A son for a son is akin to the visceral disgust the fandom had to Alicent when she asked for Lucerys’ eye, yet I bet when season two comes out and Blood and Cheese happens we’d see Daemon fans applauding and trying to justify it as ‘not that bad’ and ‘team green deserved it because of Aemond’s actions’ when little Jaehaerys, a boy of 6, was as far removed from the incident as can be. It would be akin to Team Green saying that due to Jaehaerys’ death, Aegon III or Viserys II deserved to have their head cut off in front of Rhaenyra.
Let morally bankrupt characters be morally bankrupt. You aren’t morally bankrupt because you like said character, it’s a fictional story loosely based on Empress Matilda. It’s not that deep. Like the characters you like without trying to justify their actions. They might be monstrous but you aren’t because you like them. It’s not a measure of your own character because you like said character. But it is a measure of your intelligence when you try to change said character’s entire personality to make it so that they are more digestible to you and everyone else.
#hotd#team green#anti daemon targaryen#blood and cheese#pro team green#cersei lannister#joffrey baratheon#jaehaera targaryen#like the characters you like without trying to whitewash them please and thank you#fire and blood#house of the dragon#anti team black stans#anti team black
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Release: Duke Leto x fem!reader
Don’t mind me, just thinking about being used like Duke Leto’s personal stress toy. 👀
Warnings: smut, minors DNI.
A/n: This isn’t really a full fic, more another “here’s what I’m thinking about right now” sorta deal. I swear I’ll write a “proper” fic soon. For now here is my very hastily typed train of thought about ever so selflessly serving the kingdom, via delivering a little… stress relief to your Lord. (Fucking. It’s just fucking, basically.)
The Duke arrives back to his quarters, returning from a fraught council meeting. The fate of Caladan is resting on his shoulders, and hours of negotiations are proving -so far- entirely futile.
He’s evidently tense, muscles taut and coiled, brow heavy, mouth curved downward. He’s silent, his words seemingly compressed, held deep beneath a layer of frustration. He enters the room and storms to his desk, standing over it and pressing his palms into the surface, shoulders hunched over and head hung low. He does not acknowledge you but you approach him; cautiously. Not because you fear his stony demeanour, the breaths seething from his flared nostrils. His hands clenching into the surface of the desk. You never fear him, but you do seek to ease his transition. To ease him towards the relief you can provide him.
You step up behind him, slotting yourself against him, resting your head in the spot between his shoulder blades. Working some of the tension from his tight muscles with your hands.
As soon as you touch him, it is instantaneous, as though he cannot pause. His words still not coming but his body working on his behalf, his broad hands seeking you out. Grabbing you. Manoeuvring you. No time even to kiss you, to look at you.
His fingers raking clumsily and urgently at the hem of your skirts as he roughly folds your body over the desk edge. Pushing you down. His shaking fingers clawing at his own belt buckle, air seething through his teeth as he contacts his throbbing, painfully hard length. He needs you. Needs you like this, with your tits spilling out of your dress. The meat of your hips and ass grabbed up in his clawing palms.
Fuck he needs you.
The council are so rigid, so resistant, and you? You are so… soft, flesh so forgiving. So pliant for him, so easy, moulding to his every whim and desire. He grunts again, no words still as you hear him spit, and you cry out in surprise as you feel the sudden slick of his warm fingers as he applies this cursory lubrication to your heat.
“My Lord,” you purr, all too willing to fulfil him. “Working so hard for the Kingdom. Let me help you relax.”
He needs no encouragement.
You yowl as he fills you. Roughly, and sudden. All the way to the hilt, spreading you open on his girth. You stretch your arms out before you, fingers splayed and tightly gripping the opposite edge of the desk to brace yourself as your thighs are shunted against the other - an all too pleasant bite.
You moan for him, the sound liquid, so smooth, so soft, so compliant, and so at odds with his rigid, unforgiving thrusts. With the hard shape of his frustration, and your slickening cunt offering no resistance.
The Duke presses his hand to the centre of your back, pinning you, your cheek crushed against the table, moans covering all of his official papers like a balm over the abrasion of his duties.
Leto snaps his hips then, slamming himself into you, thrusts needy and oh so careless. So desperate. He grunts as he fills you, stretches you, with no care for anything else but his relief.
He slows. Only for a moment. A slow, tantalising drag out of you, his swollen head notching him inside as you hear him -you think- relinquishing his uniform jacket to the floor, buttons clacking against the tiles. You imagine the sight behind you of Leto in his white, open-collared shirt, the hem billowing over his full, clenching ass cheeks as he resumes his thrusts, working you at a brutal pace. You imagine the sweat gathering across the bared “v” of his chest, glistening on his skin.
He grunts again now as his thrusts become sloppy. Precarious, with the way the wetness is gathering between your thighs. Indeed, momentarily, he slips out of you, and he curses at the loss. Leans forward to gather up your boneless, pliant body, bringing your back to press at his torso.
You feel the tacky heat seeping through layers. Feel the rake of his beard and his hot breath against the back of your neck as he eases himself back inside of you. Slowly, slowly, slowly, with ragged stunted breaths against your skin.
Wraps his arms around your chest to pin you securely to him as he fucks into you - harder now, pace gradually climbing. At just the right pace. Pinning your trembling, waning body harshly between him and the desk edge. Fucking up into you so brutally now that the furniture is shunted across the floor; but he doesn’t stop.
Just keeps thrusting, up and into you so hard that the heels of your feet lift off of the floor, toes against the cold tiles. So hard that you almost tip forward from the force of it - would, if he wasn’t strong enough to brace you. To keep your where he needs you as he uses you like this. Like a stress toy. Like you only exist for his relief.
Then, you feel a soft, deep, shuddered moan bloom against the nape of your neck. He bites you there, against your throat, teeth marking and mouth sucking as you feel him convulse inside of you. As he shoves himself and his seed up into you so deep, like he never means it to find its way out.
You come with him, your release moulding around him, clenching down on him, and dragging further aftershocks from him. He shudders against you momentarily, and you feel all of the tension drop from his body, shed like his layers.
A soft hum and a soft kiss is applied to your sweat-tacky neck as he releases you; gently - ever so gently now - draping your limp form over the desk as your ragged breaths continue to flare in your rib cage. You slow your breathing. Enjoy the lingering bloom of residual pleasure in your centre, your core honeyed and dripping.
When you feel able, you turn to him again, perching yourself on the desk and facing him. Wanting to see him undone for you, but finding him redressing in his uniform - and his composure - instead.
Ah. It becomes suddenly clear to you. “The Council is still ongoing?”
That niggle resettles in his brow. “I stole a moment, but the negotiations will not cease.”
“And you will return with your dick wet?”
His hands reach for you again, but this time, it is to cup your face tenderly. To look down, with amusement, at your skirts all in disarray. Your breasts spilling from your corseted top, and he dips to gather you with a broad palm, freeing you and mouthing softly at your nipple, beard brushing against your tender flesh. You see the ghost of a smile cross his features, despite his busied mind and mouth. “I will return the better for it.”
Mouthing at you more hungrily now, Leto dips quickly to your heat, settling his head under your skirts and sealing his warm mouth over your heat like he’s well aware he’s running out of time. He shivers a tongue through your folds, tasting you. Your core throbs as a resonant hum bleeds through your centre.
“I must go,” he says regretfully, straightening up. Buttoning up his jacket - and his composure.
“Wait, my love,” you call, before he turns away. He obliges, and you make quick work of it, smoothing the undone curl - which has fallen across his forehead - back into place. “Perfect.”
He does not smile; but his eyes do glow for you. “If a conclusion is not yet reached, we intend for another recess at ten.”
His meaning is quite clearly implied, and you are eager for it already.
“I’ll be waiting, my Lord.”
You send him away to fulfil his duties, all the better for you having fulfilled yours.
Truly, it hardly seems like work at all.
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# JAX & GANGLE (SEPERATELY) x THEIR S/O IN THE REAL WORLD THAT ACCIDENTLY ENDED UP IN THE CIRCUS ☆
Ehmm so this is the req I accidently posted while I was like BARELY finished (awkward).
Anywho we don't care abt allat. Here it is 🙊 Srry for the wait anonsie !!
︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.
🤍 HEADCANONS !!
warnings :: Not proofread, and like. 0.1% angst on both of them
♪ JAX ..
Jax is one of the members that notices something is off
Your body language, the way you speak etc. is something that makes him think "Did I meet this person before entering this digital world or am I tweaking??"
He's curious on why he feels like this, so he hangs around you more
This includes you getting pranked more than the others, getting dragged with him to anywhere, and all that shit.
He usually sits next to you at the feast table aswell
But no matter what he does, he can't seem to figure out why you feel so familiar to him (And why your antics make him feel weird inside in a positive way but he pretends this isn't happening)
So the conclusion he just came up with was you being an old co worker, old friend, or anything like that in the real world
Once you two were walking around, trying to find some sort of item for the current in house adventure
Jax told you in that moment about how he felt like he met you before entering the digital circus, and if you ever knew someone who acted like him to confirm his theory
To his luck, you did!
What he didn't expect though was you saying he kind of acted like your S/O.
You kind of regretted saying that after in fear of things getting awkward between you two but Jax looked like he didn't give a single fuck
Infact, he looked like he was questioning everything right now while also not looking like he was questioning everything right now
Did this mean he had a S/O?? That is you???
Hes abit conflicted with that statement ofcourse, and thinks about it
It would make sense; The reason to why you make him feel weird would be answered too
Though even then I feel like he wouldn't be sure how to go on about this.
Give him some time, I'd say
♪ GANGLE ..
Gangle also notices something weird, like she met you once before
But she thinks it's just her overthinking
Though, she did find it abit odd aswell because both of you got along immediatly
Like something clicked between you two.
You also defended Gangle alot, which was kind of suprising to her
You were interested in what she was interested, and even if you werent, you didn't go out of your way to look at her weirdly or make fun of it
So ofcourse she'll get attached.
But she still tells herself she's probably overthinking about the whole "I met you before entering the digital circus" thing
It would make sense, but it seemed impossible for her
She basically thinks that someone like you (Boss and shit) wouldn't hangout with her (Girlfail and shit) if it was actually both of you in the real world, even though you two regularly hang out in the digital one (Ik she is one of those people that think like that I just KNOW)
I feel like Gangle is also one of the few people that forgot almost everything about the outside world, this includes ofcourse having a S/O
And therefore, like the others, she'll also get upset when you tell her while you two were having a drawing sesh that you got here while helping the police investigate your S/O's missing person case
Gangle planned on confessing to you before you told her this
She didn't feel nervous around you, so she felt like that even if you rejected her, you could still be friends
Ofcourse, now she won't confess anymore, since she knows you already have a partner, and she dosen't want to make you uncomfortable in any way, shape or form (Oh girl)
Let's hope that if you both get out, Gangle gets her faded memories back and you see that your partner was literally in the digital world with you the entire time
︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.
ׂૢ་༘࿐ Thank you for reading! ♡
This took longer than I wanted it to. I think imma quickly finish up some asks and then take a quick break lol
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Rough: Frank Castle x Reader (NSFW)
Tagging: @juliannatryon @beardedbarba @crazy4chickennuggets @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @pleasurebuttonwrites @annetje @adaydreamaway08 @est1887 @multiflixshelves @thanossexual @bonsaijoons @spookyboogyuniverse @ankhmutes @spaghettificationandpretzels @trublu2u @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle
@skyesthebomb @viridianphtalo @yezzyyae @casa-boiardi @lulawantmula @vermillionwinter @notanotherpotter @yousigned-upforthis @toheavenwmydrms @wabi-sabi1090 @issieruby @darkangelforever333
It’s late when you turn up at Frank’s door. You don’t expect him to be home, he never is at this time. He’s usually out on patrol or on the hunt. You can tell he’s been sleeping when he opens the door. His dark hair is ruffled, his eyes a little blurry. He’s wearing a black vest that clings to his frame over grey sweatpants.
“Angel…” He murmurs as he opens the door to let you inside.
You have him up against the wall before he even closes it, your mouth is on his as his back impacts against the plaster. You’re a strong little thing, he forgets about that sometimes. He thinks it’s because it’s been a while since the two of you actually tussled.
He remembers the last time, the scrape of gravel across his face as your knee dug into his back. He’d been both pissed off and proud because the two of you had been sparring since the night Lou Beretti sent those thugs after you and you’d come a long way since then. Not a single person had got the drop on him throughout his tenure as The Punisher but then his scrappy little cop from Queens had pulled the rug out from underneath his feet and dumped him in the drunk tank for the night because he was ‘interfering’ with her investigation.
Now he stays out of your shit, and you stay out of his.
When you bite his lower lip, he moans into your mouth, his hips surging forward so that you can feel his hard cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. He switches positions, pinning you against the wall with his muscular form. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breathing ragged as your hand encloses on his wrist guiding his large hand up so that his palm covers your throat.
“Do your worst.” You say, pressing down on his fingers, forcing them to dig into the soft underside of your throat. “Treat me like I’m your whore.”
He looks into your eyes, and he sees the intensity in your gaze. You get like this sometimes, when things have gotten dark, and you need to feel something. He’s been there, he knows what it’s like to feel hollowed out, numb. You need him to take care of you tonight, to fuck all of the thoughts right out of your head.
“Safe word?” He questions, his thumb tracing over the shape of your lips.
“Daisy.” You murmur and he smiles.
It’s the first flower he ever gave you.
His kisses are bruising, forceful. His tongue thrusting into your mouth as he tears the clothes away from your body. He pins you down on the bed, the heat from his naked flesh rolling over yours as he forces your legs apart with his thigh. Your wetness smears against the hard muscle and your back arches as you try to generate a little more friction against your clit.
“Can’t help yourself can you?” He mutters into your ear as he grips your jaw and tilt your head away from him baring your throat. “Need my cock that badly huh?”
You don’t respond and he doesn’t expect you to. When he’s with you he can’t help but run his mouth but that’s not what you need tonight. It’s not about the words, it’s about the physicality, the sensation. He isn’t gentle when he enters you, he does it with one firm stroke, filling you entirely and the noise you make, fuck he nearly comes right there and then.
It gets rough after that.
Your nails rake up his back, the sting of it intermingling with the ecstasy as he fucks you like you’re nothing to him, just a vessel for his own pleasure.
“Harder.” There’s a bite to your voice, a savageness. “Make me feel it.”
He raises to the challenge, his muscular arm wrapping around your waist, gripping you in place as he uses you like his personal fucktoy.
It’s brutal, violent. The slapping of skin resounds through the air, the sound mixing with your hitched breathing as he thrusts inside of you hard and deep.
“Feel that?” He mutters against your skin, his lips brushing over the teeth marks he’s left on your shoulder. “That’s what you do to me, drive me so fucking crazy I can’t control myself.”
You’re close, so close he can fucking taste it. It’s in the way that pretty cunt of yours clenches around his dick, the scrape of your teeth as you bite down on his shoulder hard enough to break the skin. You drag him over the edge with you, his release spilling into you as he grasps your hips, holding them flush against his own. He doesn’t stop, he fucks it deeper, marking his territory because you’re his, you’ll always be his and in that moment the animal in him needs you to know it.
“That’s it my angel, take it.” He murmurs, his palm coming to rest on the back of your neck as he holds you against him. “Take it all.”
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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
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Jjk men Bf head-cannons
Note: pure fluff, Sfw Characters included: Gojo, Geto, and sukuna
Satoru Gojo
Gojo will send you tonssss of voice messages talking about literally anything. He’ll be on his couch laying down and he’ll send you a voice message about how the show he’s watching is so boring. “The female lead doesn’t even have any personality and is just there to make the male lead look good!” You’ll complain to him sometimes that he send too many of these voice messages but, he responds that it couldn’t be true because, you love the sound of his voice. (And to be fair you do listen to every one he sends.)
Gojo cannot cook for the life of him. Anytime you try to teach him something wrong will always happen. For example you tired showing him how to make spaghetti and meatballs which is simple enough, right? Wrong. Because Gojo, not only ended up burning the pasta (somehow which still boggles your mind to this day) but, the meatballs weren’t exactly balls… They were certainly meat, and they tasted like meatballs but… they were only shaped to say the least.
Gojo definitely spoils you. And anytime you try to tell him he's doing too much he’ll come up with an excuse for why buying you a 180.00 skirt was necessary. “Well I had to get it, it was the last one and it’d work perfectly for that Christmas party we're attending!” To clarify he was talking about, the Christmas party that was three months away. Of course in all fairness you wouldn't complain too much… It would look pretty nice on you.
Suguru Geto
Even the smallest gestures he does for you are full of thought. Whenever you're having a long day at work you'll usually text Geto about your frustrations. He's trying to be supportive as you rant and help you calm down. When you get home you’ll be welcome to a newly cleaned apartment and Geto in the kitchen finishing up making your favorite meal for dinner. When he sees your home he’ll immediately start talking to you “I’ll finish up here soon, how are you feeling?” The rest of night would end up being him taking care of you fully making you forget about work entirely.
This mf definitely remembers the small things within your relationship and he’ll remember things about you no one else will. For instance you disliked when people surprised you from behind. It wasn’t anything that majorly bugged you but, it made you feel uncomfortable. (Especially since you weren’t a huge fan of being touched) When Geto found this out when we you guys were out in public or hanging with a group of friends he’d always stay slightly behind you. When you questioned why he did this, he said it was so he could make sure no one will surprise you like that. Even though you insisted he didn’t have to he still did which you couldn’t help but love him even more for.
Sukuna
He’s possessive, like really possessive. (He swears he’s not though). Anytime your in public around people or not he’ll make it clear your his. Whether that’s an arm around your waist or being very intimate with you even if it’s not the most appropriate… Whenever it’s at places such as a club it’ll be even worse, not only will be touchy but his whole mind and body will be focused on you. (Even if he doesn’t realize it..) And that’s the thing he doesn’t realize he’s like that infact anytime you bring it up to him he swears you’re just overthinking things. Because, him, Sukuna being possessive over another person? Fucking ridicules. Totally not in denial.
One thing you wouldn’t expect from Sukuna would be him to be rather supportive of you and your decisions. Of course it wasn’t exactly the most traditional way people are supportive. But hey, it’s Sukuna nothing about him is ‘normal’. Sukuna is supportive in the way where you’ll feel insecure about wearing and he’ll give you a confused look. “Why the hell would yah not wear it?” Flushed you respond. “It makes me look bad like-“ “I don’t know what you’re on about I like how it looks on you so you’re wearing it.” And of course you weren’t going to argue with your bf so, you wear it. Throughout the day He’ll make comments about how good you look which make you blush. Of course it isn’t exactly the lovely dovey kind of comments but still.
#jjk#acewoo#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu satoru#drabble#gojo x reader#gojo x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#jjk suguru#jjk geto#jjk sukuna#jjk fluff#gojo x female reader#gojo x gender neutral reader#gojo x male reader#sukuna#sukuna fluff#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x reader#geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto fluff#geto suguru#jujutsu geto#gojo satoru x reader
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I promise I took my meds, hear me out: this
Can give us insight into this
So: before we get into what it means, I'm going to tell you why these things are related. 15 is probably the best text we have when it comes to dissecting their relationship, and in 15, dazai says 2 things that relate to both raging romantic tension and also dogs.
This, as well as an arguably more loaded section:
This. Now bear with me, I really did take my meds, this second excerpt is almost a one to one copy of the dog treats panel. For those of you who have read 15, you'll know that this scene is the set up for chuuya being forced into the mafia. They duel, the "treats" (the sheep) appear, and then they disappear, and only when dazai walks away do both the dog and chuuya realize theyve been ensnared in a weirdly elaborate trap for someone who's supposed to not want anything to do with them.
Not only that, but it establishes that not only does he call chuuya his dog, but "his dog" is part of his future plans, and part of the reason he even has future plans.
Part of the reason that dazai wants to live at that point is to spend time with chuuya.
Now: with that we get back into the dog treat "duel".
First, I'll let you read it and draw your own links, as long as you promise to leave them in the notes
As a bsd reader, you'll probably know that dazai's plans often revolve around knowing what the other party will do. This is easily reflected in the dog encounter, because dogs don't know anything, and thus their behavior cannot be influenced to an unpredictable point. If you offer a dog a treat, you can count on that dog eating the treat. The problem is that dazai can't connect that motive to the dog's actions, because he specializes in dealings with egotistical people who rank highly in organizations who have massive flaws they overlook. Take him outside of his comfort zone, and he struggles to tilt things in his favor.
This analysis overlooks one teensy massive character trait that shapes the character: Dazai is the type to step on a rake, hit himself in the balls, and stick the landing so well that everyone thinks it was on purpose.
You can only tell what's "the plan" versus what is just improv by how hard he tries to sell that he's in control.
With this new lens, seeing how hard dazai tries to assert "the difference in [his status]" with the dog almost entirely colors the interaction as some sopping wet loser loses at his own game that he started against a small animal.
And now: how does this effect the skk reunion and how does it reflect on their previous relationship?
Well, I'm going to pull out some "oh holy shit... I mean, I meant to do that!" Moments
This man is going back and forth like it's his job. He doesn't know what to expect because chuuya is far beyond his comfort zone. Hes everything that should make him predictable, and yet he never is. Every time he's taken aback by his target not reacting the way he "should" he pulls another trick out from his sleeve. Even literally, in the lock picking case. Whenever he needs to try to assert that he totally planned this, he goes for another trick.
As with the dog, when dazai walks away, the only thing chuuya was left with was a distinct sense of "this guy needs friends." They're both low stakes interactions that are born from dazai not expecting something and not knowing how to regain control of the situation.
This implies that dazai just doesn't know how to deal with a straightforward person and thus can never predict what chuuya will do, because he runs on an unswayable internal logic that makes him as difficult to manipulate as a human can possibly be.
As a partnership, they're constantly confusing the fuck out of each other, because dazai is weird and eats dog treats, and because chuuya cannot be understood with the logic dazai excels in.
They know each other but they can never hope to understand each other.
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