#hence my focus remaining in one place | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

politemenacephd · 4 months

Text

Arachnophilia: (Part Ten)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Fluff and bonding, Monster/human relationship, Miguel is rutting, Reader goes into heat, Rough PinV sex, Spontaneous outdoor sex, Slight voyuerism/exhibitionism, Mouth covering, Rough biting, Creampie & web sealing, Little bit of angst at the end? CW: Mentions of & brief depiction of deer hunting.

Word count: 6060

One Week Later

‘Are you ready, arañita?’

Miguel’s voice drifted up and into the nest, turning your head towards the entrance. You were halfway through getting dressed and the distraction nearly toppled you to the floor.

‘AH- Yeah! Yeah, I’m- almost ready! Just a minute!’

You struggled into your new outfit; a suit made entirely of silk which Miguel had painstakingly crafted for you. It was super soft and strangely warm, but it clung to the contours of your body a little more than you’d have liked. You kept wondering if Miguel had consciously or perhaps unconsciously made it so form-fitting. After all, this was your third suit of its kind, as he’d ripped the other two to shreds during extremely passionate and wet sex.

You felt your face grow warm at the memory and physically shook it away. No, no time for that. If you slipped back into the heat again you’d never get to go on the trip, and you were excited to go.

As you rose to your feet you took a moment to admire how the nest was coming along. The first thing you’d done was make it homely by adding a window and doors, with the entrance now covered by a crude cut oaken circle that swung outward on a hinge and the walls now adorned with little wooden shuttered holes.

You admired the half-made fireplace in the centre of the room, next to the DIY wooden table and the slowly burgeoning food prep area, before turning to the bed.

The mattress was completely drowning in silken blankets and silken pillows, and the floor beside it was now adorned with the pelt of a stag he’d killed. You knew autumn was approaching and it would only get colder, hence the focus on conserving heat, and while you didn’t want to jinx the relationship you enjoyed planning for the future.

You did feel a little bad since almost all these changes were only for your benefit. You had to preserve heat in this empty forest, but Miguel with his soft fluffy abdomen could remain shirtless all year round.

Your eyes softened affectionately at just the thought. Such a beautiful creature. He was a sight to behold when he stepped out into the cold dawn, where the heat of his muscles created a misty sheen of steam and his white breath curling around his fangs.

‘Arañita!’

You jumped in place as Miguel’s voice echoed from below for a second time. Shit, you’d been daydreaming about him so much you’d forgotten to go down. With fumbling hands you grabbed your bag and rushed out the open door.

‘COMING!’

Where once there was only a short sticky rope to descend from his home there was now a generous ladder, allowing you to easily clamber down to the floor.

Miguel was waiting, patient as ever, his legs gently tapping on the dirt as you approached.

‘Alright! I’m here, sorry. Had some- difficulty with the suit’ you called.

‘Ah, arañita. There you are.’ The joy that lit up his face every time he saw you never failed to make your legs weak.

‘Yep! Here I am.’

‘You look wonderful in that suit, by the way’ he noted as you rushed to his side. You took the time to scoff as you grabbed handfuls of his fur, using it as leverage to drag your body onto his back. His fluff was soft where it brushed your skin, and he smelled like grass dew and wet hair.

‘Oh my god- I knew it, you designed the suit to be too tight on me, didn’t you?’

‘I- well, yes. Is that an issue? Is it uncomfortable?’

You landed on his abdomen with an ‘oomph’ and shuffled forward, settling on his back like a great horse. Your hands wrapped themselves tight around his broad waist.

‘No, but- come on. Little bit pervy.’

‘I thought that was the nature of our relationship’ he argued. He tried desperately to catch your eye but in doing so began spinning in little circles, chasing his back as you continuously ducked out of the way. You took great pleasure in making him spin. ‘I like to look at you, yes. I get great physical joy from admiring your form. You are my mate. I thought this was normal. Is that not normal?’

‘Oh my god Mig—alright, come on! No more wasting daylight hours! Go! Go! Git!’

You gently and playfully kicked his side, urging him onward like a horse, but a firm glare from his bloody red eyes quickly brought you down into an apologetic cower.

‘Sorry! Sorry, uh- shall we, shall we go, darling? At your own discretion?’

He gave a curt nod and began strolling upward into the forest.

Today, he was finally taking you hunting.

The woods, once terrifying and unknowable to you, were slowly becoming a comforting norm. You gazed up at the dizzyingly high pines as Miguel walked upward to where the trees grew sparse and wide.

The early morning daylight trickled down in thin rays, their glow highlighting the tiny specks of dust and flitting little bugs as they passed you by.

This place felt old, untouched. It was cool beneath the heavy canopy above. You could hear nothing but the distant chirps of birds and the occasional creaking of an old tree. As you passed beneath those silent giants you clutched Miguel a little tighter.

‘You were talking in your sleep last night’ you whispered. Mig jumped. You’d been walking for almost ten minutes now in abject silence, so your voice was a surprise.

‘Ah- what was that, mi tesoro?’ he whispered back once he’d regained his composure. You bit down the urge to giggle.

‘Oh, sorry, um- you were talking in your sleep last night. That’s all I said.’

‘I was?’

‘Mhm. It’s very cute. You kept kicking your legs, kicking them and grunting, then you said something like don’t run so fast little one or wait for me and um- I think then you just kinda settled and went back to sleep. Like I said, very cute.’

Miguel rolled his shoulders as he continued strolling onward. You couldn’t tell from here what he was thinking.

‘Mm. I don’t- remember my dreams anymore, but, I know that they’re vivid. I remember the feelings but not the events. So- huh. I wonder what I dreamed about?’

‘I should stay up and keep an eye on you, try and sus it out’ you teased. He managed a breathy little snort of a laugh in response.

‘Ah, I’m not sure about that. What if I say something in my dreams that I shouldn’t?’

‘Oh, pft- like what? You gonna say someone else’s name? you don’t know anyone else, well except Miguel maybe, and if you said his name my first thought wouldn’t be that.’

‘I could still- imply something embarrassing’ he said with a shrug. You’d broached the top of the hills by this point and behind you the view was extraordinary, with small windows in the canopy giving you a perfect view of the city in the distance. Mig paused to turn and look at it with you mid conversation.

‘I could- I don’t know, admit some, sexual fetish I hadn’t even realized yet, some- deep interest in the back of my mind.’

You sighed as you rested on his bicep. With your arms still tight around his waist you gave him an affirming little squeeze. ‘You idiot’ you teasingly chided, ‘you admit everything to me anyway. This morning you immediately confessed that you designed my clothes for your own delight, and- wait, yeah, literally the FIRST day you started rutting you sat me down and told me in great detail your sexual fantasy. You are too honest to be worried about this.’

Another guttural choke escaped his throat, his strange little laugh that now filled you with joy to hear. ‘You are right, as always, my tesoro. I suppose it’s just my anxiety. I- suppose I’m just not used to anyone else being around when I sleep. It’s strangely vulnerable, no?’

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s weird, but, It’s nice though, right?’

You felt his fur bristle beneath you, the strands brushing your leg. Oh, you thought, that meant he was upset about something, right? But, why?

‘Is it?’ he murmured.

You turned and leaned around his torso to try and see his face more clearly, but right as you did so he turned himself and began walking deeper.

‘Hey, is something up?’ you gently pushed.

‘Ah, it… Sometimes- you pull away, at night, when we’re… cuddling.’ The way his voice dipped on the word cuddling, like he was embarrassed to be saying it in front of you. God, he was so sweet. ‘You shuffle away and I wake up without you. I- was worried you were uncomfortable with me.’

‘Oh, I love cuddling Mig! But doesn’t it bother you when you’re trying to sleep? I keep waking myself up because when I roll in my sleep you’re there and I keep thinking I’ll wake you up too.’

He let out a soft ‘humpf’ sound in response, clearly surprised by your response. ‘Ah- I don’t believe so. I haven’t slept any worse since you arrived, except, occasionally waking to check you’re okay.’

‘Oh. Huh. Well, you are… Big? I suppose is the best word? Big ol’ guy, you probably don’t feel me as much. But, like I was saying, I’m just not used to feeling something beside me when I sleep. I’m adjusting my brain to it, that’s all. it doesn’t mean I dislike you or dislike cuddling. We’re just uh- finding boundaries, now we live together.’

He seemed to perk up at the reminder that you were, technically, living together. Living together as partners, a concept he thought he would only ever dream out. He did a little rustle before bounding through the trees.

‘Alright, well, we’re almost there. Let me get you something to eat, mi arañita’

True to his word Mig became utterly focused on the hunt from that point onward.

He bayed you to settle down in the roots of a tree while he got into position, somewhere far enough to dampen your scent but close enough that you could see. He seemed desperate to have you witness him being productive, and you were curious enough to go along with his whims.

In this part of the forest the trees were sparser, allowing more vegetation to cover the dry earth. Miguel had said this gave him more cover for ambush, but you were still stumped as to how this giant man was supposed to hide himself even in the thickest growth. Even when pressed to the floor he was huge, as wide as he was long, covered in bright red and black fur.

Surely a deer would see that, right? Curiosity got the better of you, and you settled down in the roots to watch.

Mig started by feeling the vibrations in the dirt. He tapped at the floor, shuffling back and forth as he listened for something far beyond the scope of your own senses. You saw his eyes widen a few times, indicating that he’d felt something in the distance, and once he seemed sure he began the next unusual stage of this dance.

He dug. He dug into the earth with his enormous legs, filling out a small burrow in which his body could just about fit. He used his legs to drag foliage over his head, masking his scent and his body, until even you could barely see him at all.

And there, he waited. He waited, and waited, as clouds came to cover the sun. He waited in the gloom while you picked at your nails, waiting with a patience that frankly scared you to your core, until you both heard it.

A snap. A twig breaking.

A stag had entered the woods. Immediately you shuffled downward, lying as still as possible in the roots. Mig didn’t move an inch.

The stag was sniffing at the ground as it approached. You were certain that it would smell the enormous spider lying in wait, but somehow it just kept drifting closer and closer. You could see its head dipping to push through the grass, its snout flexing and snorting. Its breath condensed hard in the cool air.

Every muscle in your body tensed. You watched, your heart racing, as the stag went to sniff right over Migs head.

CRACK.

You jumped in your skin as he pounced.

It was terrifying. It was pure, primal, a spectacle of undiluted power. He moved with a speed that seemed impossible for something of his size, so large and yet so nimble, as his legs propelled him out of the dirt and onto the beast. It tried to run but his claws caught its neck.

With the sheer weight of his body he brought the bleating giant down. You saw a flash of his eyes, blood red with a single white pupil, right before he clamped his jaws on its neck.

It was over in seconds. The moment the deer stopped moving you scrambled out of the roots to join him.

‘Holy- shit, you’re so fast!’

Mig unclamped the catch with a soft grunt. You could see the blood on his jaw and neck which he immediately smeared with the back of his hand before facing you. He had such a strangely shy smile on his face.

‘Oh- you saw! You saw it. What did you think?’

‘It was… terrifying! Wow! You are- so, strong!’ you said with an awkward laugh. You left out how weirdly enjoyable it was to see him at full strength, to have witnessed the power and carnage he was capable of.

His grin widened as he took your comment at face value. ‘Thank you, arañita. That- makes me happy. I like showing you that I can be of use.’

‘Oh, Mig you idiot.’

You leaned in and affectionately touched his hair, gently brushing back the thick curls. He almost purred at the touch. ‘Now- jesus, let’s get you cleaned up and get home.’

You used a strip of silk from your back to try and clear his face, though he kept nestling into your hand which made it difficult to finish. Something about hunting for you seemed to make him especially soft. He would tap his feet for attention and rustle against you, and you would tut at him while secretly enjoying his touch.

That peaceful downtime did not last long though. As you were brushing yourself down, preparing to head back down, you noticed that Mig had stopped pacing. When you turned to check on him his eyes were wide.

‘Mig?’ you said softly. He didn’t move. You watched with ever growing curiosity as he began to dart his gaze across the forest line, almost as if he was looking for something. You followed his line of sight but could see nothing yourself.

It was only then, on the cusp of your lips parting to question Mig on what he was doing, that your senses picked up the same thing he had.

Your eyes locked in a moment of shared terror.

Footsteps. Distant footsteps, growing closer with every step. Idle chit chat that echoed in the trees, something about being lost and forgetting the map. You sensed a flask on an overstuffed backpack slowly clinking against a metal keychain.

‘Hikers’ you hissed. Mig gave a silent nod.

No, no, no. This was bad, you thought. What were people doing this far out? Why today of all days?

You didn’t want to risk a run in with civilians. You knew Mig was safe, but you also remembered how you’d acted the first time you saw him, and more importantly you remembered his distress at being seen.

Without another word you jumped into action, hopping his back in one fell swoop while he grabbed the kill by the nape of its hide. He lifted it as easily as a cat carrying a kitten, a feat you barely had time to appreciate, as he broke into a canter the moment you were mounted.

In silence you hurried back down the way you’d come.

For about half the way down it seemed to be smooth sailing. Mig made easy progress through the woods, his eight legs silently tapping back and forth on the mulchy earth as you descended to home. Your senses could feel the hikers getting further and further away.

In no time at all you saw the glade appear at the bottom of the hill, a tiny little circle in a sea of evergreen pines slowly sinking downward. You let out a contented sigh.

But then you felt it.

You felt It.

That foreboding tug in your gut. The gentle throbbing that sank down through your insides, the pulsing of blood as your heart sped up. The yearning, the need, the subconscious addictive pleading for satisfaction.

No, no, no, NO. You couldn’t stop here, right? The hikers weren’t far enough away yet.

You shuffled, trying to secretly suppress it, when Miguel abrupted stumbled to a halt himself. You heard him drop the stag with a thump.

Shit. You could smell it. It was heavy in the air, a smell you couldn’t describe with words but which you felt in your loins. He was rutting too.

Your eyes rolled. Oh that smell, it gave you goosebumps. That smell alone dragged you to him like a magnetic force.

‘Arañita?’

His words were soft as he spoke. Those were dangerous words, hungry words.

‘Mig?’

You felt so small on his back as his shoulders arched. You had to tilt your head to see his face, to see the bright glow of his eyes as his head instinctively tilted sideways. You balked. Those eyes were fucking starving.

‘Mig’ you breathed.

His abdomen vibrated softly, rustling against your skin in a way that sent pleasurable shivers through your thighs and spine. You shuddered against him. ‘Mig, don’t—careful—’

He breathed out hard, his breath condensing in the air. ‘Ah… Arañita …’

It curled like smoke around his bloody maw. His full lips parted and he breathed in through the mouth, releasing a dark and foreboding growl. ‘Ah…’

‘Mig—we need to get back—’

He was breathing heavier now. You could see his enormous spider legs quivering as he fought the urge slowly infecting his mind. The urge to pin, to fill, to penetrate, to feel. The urge to claim. The urge to see your pretty form, naked and sweating and shaking as you struggled to take him, as you were fucked to the brim with his very being.

When he huffed smoke for a second time a breathy moan escaped his throat. It was a mating call, plain and simple, echoing through the trees.

‘Mig… Mig…’

It was pitiful; your pleading had gone from genuine concern to depraved praise as you whispered his name over and over again. While you pleaded Mig struggled to focus on his senses. His body was begging, screaming even, to take you now, but he could just feel the hikers still approaching their location.

‘We need- to get back- to the nest’ he panted. You didn’t even respond.

At this point you were broken, involuntarily grinding your hips into his fur for any semblance of relief. Your body was burning to the point that sweat was sticking your suit to the contours of your skin, highlighting every little dip and curve.

‘Miggy—’

‘Arañita!’

His bark of an order made you mewl.

‘We need- to get back—’

‘O-Okay’ you whined. Slowly, painfully, Miguel began to continue his walk down the hillside towards the glade.

It was agony. You’d gotten so used to instant gratification that pushing through the need was now hellish, especially combined with the need to run.

It was an itchy heat, a prickling heat, and as your blood began to pump you felt your insides begin to pulsate. Throb after throb, each harder than the last, as every muscle inside you twitched and tensed around a cock that wasn’t there.

You could feel his body beneath you. You could sense him, feel him in every part of your body. All you could think about was feeling more, tasting more, as that desperate curdling need to feel his cock inside you flooded all of your senses. It was physically unbearable.

‘Don’t’ your mind screamed as you pulled at his fur.

‘Don’t do it’ his mind pleaded as he forced himself forward.

But you were no match for each other’s potent smell. No risk, not even death, felt important compared to that burning ache.

You collapsed from his body and into the dirt with a low moan, unable to maintain yourself any longer. Miguel descended on you in seconds.

You squeaked and squirmed as he gripped you in his claws. He pounced like you were prey. He flipped and thrust your body down onto its back, his gruff hands immediately pinning your arms to the floor. The frail little bones in your wrists screamed out at the pressure.

‘Mig!’

He hissed and flexed his teeth on your neck, hot breath cascading over your skin as the smell of musky hormones and blood filled your nose.

‘I can’t- wait—’ he panted. You could already feel his abdomen rubbing and grinding on you, his slit unable to contain his erection any longer. You could feel the thick, warm shaft smearing your new suit with his thick, pearly pre-cum. ‘I need- you, please- I need it- it hurts—’

You knew it was dangerous, but your brain was a melted pot of red hot lust. You couldn’t fight it anymore. With a soft whine you lay back and turned your head to the side, frantically nodding for him to continue.

‘Okay, fuck—I can’t wait, fuck—just, be quick, please’ you panted.

He didn’t even bother to fully undress you. With a hiss he bent and ripped a hole in your suit with his mouth, a dangerous tactic as his teeth brushed your pussy lips as he tore the silk aside. He took one deep sniff of your pheremones before physically dragging your body into position.

He forced your legs into a mating press, his hefty torso straining the muscles in your thighs to bend to his will. He rustled slightly as he pushed into position, roughly edging his bulbous member against your slit, and as you felt the first inch spreading you open you knew it was over.

‘Okay, okay’ he panted, ‘shh- sh, stay still for me arañita, let me just—fill you—’

He thrust, hard, and with one excruciatingly tight stretch he was inside you again.

‘M-MM--!’ Your hips bucked and tensed, rocking from side to side as you struggled to adjust. Miguel gasped like he’d just avoided drowning.

‘Ah—ahh—that’s it, that’s it. I’ll be- quick, just- stay still, mi tesoro, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

The moment he entered you he started to frantically rut to completion, his abdomen jerking back and forth as he fucked you into the dirt. Your fingers dug into his arms.

‘MM--!’ It was painful to hold back your screams. You had to bite your tongue until it bled, until the taste of iron filled your mouth and nose, all in a vain attempt to not be caught. He was so fucking rough.

‘Sweet little spider’ he whined. You felt him thrust a little deeper and squirmed with joy at the familiar mixture of ache and pleasure.

‘It’s… ‘S so good’ you whispered in a needy, whiney breath. ‘So—good…’

Desperate now to finish quickly, Miguel angled himself a little further back. He needed the one thing that he couldn’t resist, his most primal indulgence. He wanted to see it. Your small, soft, sweet human body, perfectly impaled on his enormous shaft. The sight sent full body shivers through his spine.

‘So… tight…’

He looked utterly pussy drunk, mesmerised almost. He watched your slick coat his cock as he drew back, those translucent sticky strings hanging between his abdominal fur and your pretty little slit. They made his black veins glisten as they pulsed against your swollen cunt.

‘Mi… aranita…’

He stared, unblinking, as he moved his hand and began touching the spot where he’d entered you. He brushed his thumb down and across your swollen clit, those wet and messy folds, until it came to rest where his shaft was splitting you open. He watched you swallow him whole.

‘Pretty, pretty little spider’ he whispered. ‘F-fuck…’

He watched your hips jolt as he gave a few short pumps about halfway in, fixated on the way you stretched and wriggled with pleasure. His previous seed was now oozing out at the sides as he pumped in and out, just adding to the absolute mess you were making.

‘So, so… pretty…’

You felt his claws suddenly hit your neck, pressing you down until you were forced to be still. He continued to watch with wide and unblinking eyes as his thick rod squished back and forth, back and forth, filling you until you bulged before slowly slipping out with a wet pop.

‘Mm- mm—’

He was grunting hard as he moved.

‘So, fucking, pretty—’

‘Is it this way?’

Your whole body went rigid at the sound of unfamiliar voices, but you didn’t even have time to process your shock, because Miguel didn’t stop.

Even as the voices got louder he continued rutting you into the floor, his breathy grunts just barely audible in the rustling undergrowth.

You silently slapped at his arm but he couldn’t bring himself to pause. He impulsively clamped his hand over your mouth, his eyes deadly and starved as they stared down at your panicked expression.

‘Stay. Quiet’ he mouthed. Despite your fear, you were just as needy. You let him have you.

He bent your legs into your ribs just to slip deeper, his thick shaft eagerly kissing and smearing your cervix with pre-cum. Your breath was hot on his calloused hand as it muffled your desperate moans.

Despite his rational mind knowing that he needed to be quiet, Mig’s carnal desperation was driving him towards risky behaviour. You could hear the clap of his skin between your thighs echo with each wet pop as he pushed in and out, a symphony just as terrifying as it was erotic.

You watched him savor the feel of your body. You watched him as he experienced you.

‘Ah—ahh—ah—’

He flexed his jaw until it hurt trying to suppress his cries of pleasure, and in a second moment of impulse he bent down and sank his fangs into your shoulder. Your squeaks were silenced.

Now clamped by the terrifying power of his maw you were utterly surrendered. You could feel his teeth moving in tandem with his cock, filling and shifting inside you, flooding you with that same potent mixture of pain and pleasure.

You raked your fingers down his back, drawing red lines into his rough scarred skin. He dug his claws into the dirt.

The footsteps got closer, but there was no breaking free. You were trapped together. With a muffled grunt Miguel sped up to completion.

‘MMFF—’

He came inside you silently, with all his gutteral noises muffled by your skin. You felt it all the same. The heavy spurts, the hot seed flooding in and squirting against his soft underside when your cunt ran out of room. You were filled until you bulged.

In the high of that release you were nearly dizzy. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hormones overpowered any rational fear about being seen. All you could do was lull and whine, relishing the sweet gratification of being filled again.

‘Mig’ you whispered. ‘My Mig. You—’

Snap.

Your eyes shot open.

You tilted your head, slowly, just enough for your eyes to roll and spy the woods behind you. Two hikers were frozen in place, their bodies just barely obscured by the trunk of a pine.

They were staring at you. You, your body pinned beneath the torso of your half spider mate, still fully impaled on his monstrous cock, with your head in his neck and your flesh in his maw.

Your blood ran cold as your body tensed. To say you were mortified was an understandment, it felt like your heart might give out. You felt Miguel’s breath steaming against your shoulder as he panted into it. Did he know? Had he realized?

You opened your mouth but no sound spare a painful squeak escaped. Your brain was utterly fried.

The one to break the tension then was Mig, who decided to release your shoulder and stare directly at the two strangers. Mouth bloodied, eyes red, his naked body straining and panting for air.

Their reaction was swift.

‘FUCK!’

The two hikers almost fell over each other as they ran, both frantically fleeing for their lives into the overgrown brush.

‘JESUS- CHRIST, WHAT WAS THAT?!’

‘WAS IT EATING THEM?!’

‘F-Fuck, FUCK! I DON’T KNOW JUST- GO!’

‘We have to call for help—’

‘JUST RUN JUST- FUCKING RUN!!’

As the screams grew distant, you felt Miguel slowly pull out. His hands were quick to plug you up and carefully stitch your suit back together at the crotch, but you were too exhausted to move.

‘Shhiittt.’

It was the only thing you could think to say as you lay back in the mud, your head still a little woozy from the whole experience. Mig just grunted.

‘Shit, shit, shit. Ah…. I’m- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s fine. I- fuck, are you okay Mig?’

He grunted again as he lifted you up into his arms. His spider legs hooked the stag’s carcass and carefully manoeuvred it onto his back, allowing him to begin the short final trek back to the clearing with you still in his arms. The longer he went without saying a word, the more you began to worry.

‘Mig?’

You patted his cheek as he walked, trying in vain to get his attention. His only response was to sigh.

‘It’s okay’ you said, your voice now rather timid. ‘It’s fine, they- we probably won’t ever see them again. And hey, we didn't have to fight them! That's good, right? They just- left.’

‘It’s not that.’

You were surprised when words finally left his mouth, especially when they were delivered so sadly. He was blunt, yes, but not usually this melancholy, especially after sex.

‘What is it then?’ you asked. It took him a few more seconds to reply.

‘They thought… I was eating you’ he murmured. ‘If I’d been anyone else, they wouldn’t have screamed. We would have been- yelled at, perhaps, or chastised for being perverts. Maybe they’d have just, awkwardly moved away. But they would never have assumed I was eating you.’

The sombre reality sank in slowly. Somehow, you’d both forgotten the reality of what this was. What he was. You tried to shrug it off. ‘Wait, that’s what you’re worried about? I mean… If you were just, purely human, they might have still assumed you were murdering me. People can do murder too yanno.’

He managed a small, throaty chuckle at your light teasing, but it was strained. He looked distant, distracted, alone in his own mind. You gently shook his arm to drag him back down to reality.

‘Hey. It’s fine. You’re fine’ you repeated.

‘Does it not, bother you? The way they reacted?’

‘Mig I would have been mortified to be caught like that whether you were fully human or not’ you scoffed. He seemed unconvinced.

‘If they’d- seen us, holding hands’ he said, slowly musing over the theoretical aloud, ‘if they’d seen us… kissing, or even just sitting together, they would have run. They would still be terrified.’

It was hard to maintain a smile in the face of his dour prediction. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to simmer in that pool of despair, and you didn’t want him to wallow in it either.

‘People- when they see something they don’t understand, they, react like animals. Sometimes they run, sometimes they fight. They squash it so you don’t have to think about it. It’s easier.’

That morbid thought made him wince, but you refused to let go. You leaned in and tilted his head back towards you.

‘And it’s horrible. It’s horrible, and it hurts, but then there’s other people. Other people, who- know what it’s like, to be the- scared little spider on the wall. And they know, Mig. They knew. I know. And I’m not scared of you.’

To your joy he managed to shoot you a ghost of a smile, just the barest tilting of his lips. It was enough for you, even if you’d only managed to distract him for a bit.

‘Besides, who do we have to disappoint?’ you said in an attempt to lighten to mood. ‘I don’t have friends to introduce you too, or family, or co-workers. You’re alone. We don’t need to worry about what people think.’

‘You say that now, arañita, but… I don’t know, I don’t feel like that will remain true forever. I also don’t appreciate you indulging my possessive nature.’

‘Awh, what? How, what did I do?’

‘Implying we’re all we’ve got’ he said softly. ‘It makes me- happy, but on some level, I know it shouldn’t.’

‘Well, hey! You know it shouldn’t, so- you know, that’s a start.’

Mig ducked his head beneath a row of branches as he re-entered the clearing. In the clear, bright light of the burgeoning sun he looked glorious.

‘Yes, but—I also know that I willingly ignore that fact and, pretend it is acceptable’ he confessed with a slight shrug. ‘Because- well, it comforts me, especially when I’m reminded that we are… different, to put it nicely.’

‘Well, as long as you’re not getting feisty, huh? I’ll just be sure to let you know if it ever gets annoying’ you offered. You pressed your face against his pec, right over his heart, and tapped it like you were making a promise. He gave you that sweet little ghost of a smile.

‘Very well, mi tesoro. I will hold you to that.’

You allowed Mig to drop the kill near the base of the nest before climbing back in with you still in his arms. You lulled a little in the sudden warmth, placated by the warm orange rays of sunlight warming the floor, and the moment he slid you onto the bed you collapsed into it.

‘Mmm… Yanno, that was the first time we were under such pressure from the heat that you didn’t make me orgasm’ you noted with a yawn. It was more a dry observation than a real problem you had, but it immediately caused Mig to bristle in horror.

‘I- oh, no you’re right. You poor little spider.’

‘It’s okay! I don’t blame you, it—HEY!’

You squealed with delight as he dove onto the mattress, his weight flinging your body a few feet into the air before landing back into his already outstretched arms.

‘Let me fix that’ he purred, his breath brushing your ear. ‘Please, mi aranita, let me taste you again.’

With an eager grunt his lips met yours, his abdomen rustling with excitement as his tongue went down your throat. You were smothered in seconds.

You gave in to his whining need to please and relished in the chance to scream again, your wet lips quivering his name with each breath as he tore your third new suit to pieces for just a lick of your cunt.

You were too focused on his mouth to notice anything as you tossed every item of clothing to the floor. Between his whiny moans and your own panting, you couldn’t have possibly heard anything else.

You certainly couldn’t have heard your society watch as it buzzed against the fur rug, the name ‘Jess’ highlighted in clear orange light. It was left to ring to voicemail instead, with neither of you aware it’d even gone off. Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #drider #smut #smut with plot #miguel o'hara fanfiction #read on ao3 #spider man 2099 #monster human relationship #miguel o'hara smut #miguel fluff

244 notes · View notes

kairiscorner · 9 months

Note

Could you write a Miguel x reader where they’re both babysitting mayday and Miguel puts on a cartoon for mayday so she can stop bothering him and after a few minutes Miguel gets stuck watching the cartoon with mayday and the reader thinks it’s the cutest thing ever 😭

HELLOOOOOO that is so cute WHAT, i hope you like this :DDD

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miguel catching you and mayday watching cartoons

miguel was getting a little ticked off with how mayday has been running around him and swinging here and there–he can't remember anymore why he agreed to babysit the redhead for peter b while he and mj went out on a date. actually, he can't even remember if he did agree to babysit, he's been cooped up in his office all day, just dismissing everybody with 'hmm's and 'mhm's. peter b must've thought he agreed, hence he left the infant in his office; no wonder he was confused and concerned as to why mayday was left here, with his patience running out as the minutes ticked by.

you came in after miguel called for you, seeing mayday crawl over him as he remained stoic, with his eyes glued on the screens in front of him as lyla took videos of this moment. you rushed to take mayday away from miguel, with you cooing to the infant as miguel sighed, pulling up a cartoon for the child to watch. "isn't this what kids like nowadays?" he asked you as you shrugged, not really keeping in touch with what children are into these days. "i'll just keep her out of your hair." you said as you sat mayday down and watched her smile and giggle as the cartoon characters on screen moved about, spoke, sang and danced–entertaining her for a while.

you watched along with her when you noticed she'd grasp your hand and pull you close to her, wanting you to sit down and watch with her. you placed the girl on your lap as you both watched, giggling and singing along with the characters, answering them as they asked the questions, even though you knew the interactions were one-sided. it made mayday happy, so in a way, it made you happy watching with her.

miguel couldn't fully focus, not with you two giggling and talking to the characters in the cartoon, but he was in no way angry about it. he did look over his shoulder once or twice to look at what you two were laughing at, finding his gaze on the two of you lingering for more than just a few seconds. he kept prying his gaze away from the sight, but you two were just so... wholesome, so adorable to look at. he asked lyla to snap a few photos of this moment, with her obliging and taking such precise, beautiful shots of you and mayday smiling as you watched the animated characters do such ridiculous things.

he looked back at the photos and felt a kind of... brightness part the gloomy skies he was so used to having fill his days. he felt his heart lighten up a bit and a bit of a smile crack on his face. it took him a little while, but he left the monitors for a bit and walked over to you two, watching you both talk to the characters on screen after they asked questions to the viewers. "what's going on over here?" he asked you as you explained to him you were going a treasure hunt with the characters.

miguel found himself watching with you two as he sat down next to you two on the couch and sneaking glances at you both with a slight grin on his face. "can i join?" he asked in a soft voice as mayday babbled and reached out for him, with you smiling and lifting her up, about to hand her to miguel. "mayday seems like she wants you to, of course you can." you said as miguel's smile broadened, with him taking the infant from your arms and cooing to her.

this was the perfect way to take a break from work, and–by just a little bit–miguel had finally had a clear, bright sky; just for today, and it was... it was more beautiful than he imagined.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @ophanimgold @arachnoia @melovetitties @meeom @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv imagines #atsv fluff #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

364 notes · View notes

matchesarelit · 1 month

Text

Imagine If You Will... Scientists of an Absurd Field (Lars Pinfield x gn!Reader)

Featuring: #2 + #9 from @dumplingsjinson's prompt list (here)

W.C: ~1.3K

Warnings: teasing,

The new non-firehouse base for Ghost Corps was as clinical as it was scientific, and hence it wasn't your favorite place. Although being completely honest with yourself, your distaste for the space was most likely linked to the gangly scientist who remained tucked inside its walls seemingly 24/7.

He wasn't horrid by any means, he was an amazing scientist. you'd seen his work over the last year or so and it never failed to impress, yet when it came to your work he seemed unable, or at least unwilling, to comprehend your methods. He seemed to believe your more spiritual work regarding ghosts was quack-like, on one occasion he likened it to a band-aid on a bullet wound, it was at that point in the conversation you enjoyed reminding him that spirits were much more open to spiritual interactions than scientific attacks. Was your wording perhaps a bit judgmental? yes, but you know what they say about fighting fire with fire... it works.

Silently musing over the satisfaction of keeping your old office away from the over-tiled building, you trailed through the halls in search of Winston. A dense stack of files tucked under one arm, your phone in the other, browsing emails and DMs for any new cases, your focus only raised from the floor upon hearing an all too recognizable groan coming from somewhere ahead of you.

Despite your initial assumption, the sound that fell from Pinfield's lips was not directed at you, as per usual, but instead at whatever possessed item he was dealing with. His usually quaffed hair had become splayed and crazed, some strands drooping down over his goggles, he seemed completely engaged with the task at hand despite the chaos that was perpetually unfolding on the surrounding desks and there was truly no telling how long he'd been in that position.

Deciding it was best to continue your search in other areas of the facility, you slowly regained your previous pace, your own gaze now, however, stuck on the hunched man in the center of the space. Your few milliseconds of observation were, perhaps, not the best trade off for looking where you were going, as within a moment you felt your body collide with another. Snapping your head forward you were met with Winston's light smirk of amusement as he held your shoulders to keep you steady.

'Woah there,' The statement was pretty nonchalant and was followed by a small chuckle as he watched your eyes widen in embarrassment. 'You know in Ghostbusting, I've always found it helpful to look where I was going.' His tease made you roll your eyes, even so it pulled a small shy smile onto your face.

'Sorry Winston I-'

'Oh its really no bother, I get that way myself with all of this,' He turned glanced around the room at the machinery and containment cells, his observation of your intrigue clearly missed the specificity of your gaze. Even as your eyes flickered back to Lars, his posture now straightened, his goggles pulled atop his head and his hair pulled back beneath it, only to see his gaze already studying you, Winston seemed much too caught up in the room as a whole.

'Ghost corps has made such great achievements, so many scientific bounds leapt. And now with you, we have the more mystical side locked down as well. Nevertheless, I'll let you in on a secret...' The taller man leant in a little closer, cautiously looking side to side in feigned secrecy, 'Scientists, especially in such an absurd field, are pretty big show-offs, I'm pretty sure every one of them would be more than eager to explain their work, if you're willing to lend an ear that is.'

Nodding in understanding, you felt the need to move the conversation to a place, physically and topically, away from the current scene. 'I'll have to give that a try, but um... for now-' I tapped my fingers against the manilla folders still tucked under your arm, 'I've been quite busy.'

From there you'd spent over an hour of catching Winston up on your most recent jobs, different cases all over the country, resulting in a range of movings-alongs and trappings, despite the latter option being your last resort more often than not.

When you finally left his office, a few additional jobs assigned for the following weeks, you made your way back through the halls. Winston's words were clattering around in your head, and without noticing, your feet had brought you to the large machine in the center of the main lab.

You kind-of knew what it did, you'd handed in a few items you'd collected over the last few months for extraction, yet as you stood in it's shadow, hands tucked neatly away in your jacket pockets, as if afraid to touch any part of the machine even anything as minor as a brush of your knuckles, you realized you were completely in the dark over how it actually worked.

Eyes running along the tubing and cables you failed to notice the footsteps approaching from behind until they settled by your side.

'Thinking about getting into actual ghostbusting?' Your eyes had never before rolled like they did in that moment. Closing your eyes with a deep breath in, you stewed in the moment, uninterested in even acknowledging the man by your side.

'It's okay, I'm sure we could find something actually useful for you to do.' An unwitting sigh passed through your lips at his incendiary comment. Taking a moment and considering your options you settled on waiting for him to say more. After all, his comments were baseless, both of you were well aware of the others accomplishments, and more often than not that was the point of bickering betwixt the pair of you.

'I know how you love speaking to ghosts, so maybe you could use your special set of skills' -a phrase he entombed in air quotes- 'to get their names before we put them in containment... might make filing quicker.' He was so... infuriating, there was not one moment in his presence where you'd known a semblance of peace. You save his life... he thinks of a hundred ways you could have done it quicker...and proceeds to tell you them in detail. God forbid it ever came to it, you doubt he'd ever let up about it if he managed to save your life.

Turning to him slowly you cocked your head to the side, feigning a patronizing level of concern, as you placed a soft hand on his arm, 'The world still goes around if you don’t talk. You do realise that, right?' His brow tightened in what you expected to be his only response, but within moments he was scoffing and peeling your hand from his arm, holding it securely in both of his against his jumpsuit-clad chest as he met your condescending gaze with one of his own.

'I'm sure it would, still, the last time I did, you struggled to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. I'm just trying to help you stay upright, bub.' His gaze was darker now, nothing short of challenging you to contest, and yet when you did... he chuckled, cutting you off.

Squeezing your hand briefly between his own as he nodded knowingly 'I know, my kindness knows no bounds, its okay there's no need to thank me.' He was often cocky, at least around you, but this was next level, and despite him definitely having the upper hand, you felt the familiar and overwhelming need to push back.

Pulling your other hand up to join his and your other, you leant into him slightly, taking an almost invisible step forward as you drew your lips into a sickeningly sweet smile, 'Oh lars...'

You leaned in closer, eyes searching his for any hesitance, and when met simply by a wink, your lips met his. It was brief and by far the softest interaction the pair of you had had to date, however that of course did not last long as you soon parted your lips.

'What a shame... You sound better when you’re not talking.'

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield x reader #ghostbusters frozen empire #gbfe

104 notes · View notes

earenwen-leafwhisper · 2 months

Text

Not Wanted part 3

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x chubby fem reader

Summary: What a surprise it was to run into Daemon in this tavern.

Trigger warning: English is not my mother tongue, I am sorry if mistakes are going through my correction, I will correct them.

Author’s note: Y/s/n = Your servant name

Y/f/n = your father name

---

There he was, siting. You were face to face. Your heart throbbed, your blood pouring into your whole body. Your breath seemed to be trapped in your lungs and throat. Daemon was looking at you with a sweet smirk on his lips. He could see your reaction, but he couldn’t see your internal reaction.

Inside you, your mind ran in all directions, you never could have imagined seeing it, here, in this tavern, even less during the day. What was he doing there? You were trying to stay calm, keep your breath down.

He was the first to answer

"Keep my mouth?"

The tone of his voice was not harsh or angry, but rather amused. His voice seemed hypnotized to you, the environment around you no longer existed. Until this bubble burst at your realization. But what happens to me?

"Yes, it is not very courteous to speak like that."

"It is not a proper place for a lady, especially without a knight on her side." He smirk, but the tone of her voice was most serious.

He hit the nail

"I am not alone."

He looked at your maid, his smirk grown bigger, a small laugh, out of his mouth, he shook his head gently spanking his long silver hair.

"A servant will not serve you against bandits. Unless you are an expert in handling fabrics and needles."

Even if you were to contradict him, he was right, she would be as helpless as you in the event of a bandit attack. You sighed softly, but did not lower your eyes.

All of a sudden, you were worried if your dad found out you were sneaking out, although for your dad you were a jerk, disobeying him was going to lead to the beating you didn’t want to imagine. You shivered despite the heat of the tavern.

"Will you bring it back?"

Daemon watched your body language, your pupils widen, the fact that you curl slightly. You looked like an animal who was hunter and in front of an imminent and not visible danger. Time seemed to have become slow, so slow that it seemed to have stopped.

"No, I see no interest, or benefit."

Daemon was serious, his voice more posed and less playful, he smiled more mockingly. You let go of the breath you were holding, the tension of your whole body dissipated, you felt relieved although a slight fear, although reduced, remained in the depths of your mind.

Your servant could see the tension that had settled, slowly fades, to help, she made the decision to change conversation and focus on you and ordering your meal.

"Oh that’s right... "

You think for a few seconds asking for a dish that contained what you enjoyed eating and that could please your servant, throwing a glance at her, to confirm if she was willing to eat it. She nodded. You commanded for two people, be it for food and drink.

When the employer went away with your order, a silence settled at the table, this silence was only a silence of voices, because music came from the opposite side of the tavern. When you looked in the direction where the music was coming from, you could see Daemon, who was wearing the hood of his cape on his head, preventing the people behind him from seeing his silver hair, you were taken aback, he was alone in this tavern, at least seemed to be alone. For a prince, you thought that he would at least be accompanied by a knight not necessarily in bodyguard but at least in reinforcement if the prince was attacked. Perhaps his reinforcements were in the tavern also incognito. Although it seemed more likely that the prince came alone, hence the placement of his hood on his head.

You didn’t want to keep your eyes on him to avoid being seen as an insistent person or one of the young women who is desperately looking for a man. So yes you found him more than charming, but no you did not want to pass for crazy.

In the distance, from the oak counter, an employee differs from the one who took your order, walked zigzagging between the tables, arriving at yours. He brought a jug and a goblet in a gesture, he laid it all before Daemon. When the prince poured the contents of the jug you could see wine coming out, raising an eyebrow you could contain your reflection.

Daemon looked at you and smiled in the corner, almost amused by your reflection. He let out a small mocking laugh. If the prince seemed to take your words well, your servant had become tense, giving you alert looks, trying to make you understand that you had to apologize for your words. You cast an inquiring glance at her, you did not see the evil in your words, a small battle of glance began, you were both winning and losing, for not apologizing, she did it in your place.

"Wine that looks like dog urine, but not enough to drink?"

"I am sorry, my prince, for my mistress’s behavior and word." She bowed her head in respect.

"You can just as well shout." You looked harshly at your servant, your whispered words directed at her." Don’t forget that we can’t get caught."

It is true that you had been dry and direct, but you refused to be punished on your return and even more so that your return would be faster if one of the knights of your house were in this tavern and recognized you. You were never harsh towards your servant, she was the closest person to a friend than anyone else in your home. You’ll talk to him later.

"Oh yes... the rumors." It was Daemon.

"What rumors?" His words questioned you.

"The ones that say you’d be mistreated by your alcoholic father."

Daemon had hit home. You avoided wincing at his words. Your father was finally more famous than you could have imagined, if even a Targaryen had heard the rumors.

The prince drank a sip of his wine before continuing to speak.

"An alcoholic asshole, I’m surprised to see you here, not under his yoke."

"If I don’t start living now, I’ll never do it. Not once marry the man he chooses." You sigh.

This interested Daemon, a lady tired of being the kind second child, envious of freedom. Oh how much could he understand you, much more than anyone else, but unlike you, the fact that he was a man prevented him from getting in trouble, you could live as a woman.

Your servant was watching what was happening, nervous, hoping that once the dishes were brought, you would eat before leaving for the camp before the end of the game of the day. It was without counting on Daemon’s growing interest in you and your desire to escape.

If at the arrival of the dishes, the discussion ended as desired Y/s/n the continuation was quite different.

Daemon came out of the tavern first, long before you finished eating, he had not said a word, you were disappointed, but did not dare to say anything. At the end of your meal, you took out a small purse where some gold and silver coins were stored and you paid.

Coming out of the tavern in your turn, the sun had slightly dazzled you, you took a few seconds before your eyes adapt to the brightness.

The street was crowded with people, Y/s/n wrapped his arm around the hold so as not to lose you. You walked towards the main street, taking the time to look at the clothes of the people, the dresses were not in the style of your region, they were much simpler, the pomp of the nobles, gave them quite a charm. What the sun’s rays seemed to bring out.

During a blockade in the street, where several people seemed to fight for something and had ended up blocking the street because of the crowd of spectators observing the situation. In the distance you could hear the cries of the people, then suddenly the cries were less until a crowd movement. Your heart and your breath began to accelerate. The cries had given way to a fight that was becoming widespread. The tinsel of armor was heard in less than two minutes. As you were about to be hit by a city guard, someone grabbed you by your free arm, made you step back, and stumbled on your steps.

A hand came over your mouth, you looked around as much as you could. The back of your head was against a person’s chest/shoulder, you could feel the movement of the person’s breath, even feel the person’s breath against your cheek. Your gaze crossed Y/s/n, his gaze reflected his fear and growing panic. You could feel the blood pulsating in your temples, to the frenetic rhythm of your heart, a cold sweat running along your back.

By trying to calm down, you could focus on the smell of the person holding you. It was a mixture of leather, grass from a bath, and burning coal, as well as a small smell of wine when the man began to speak your ear.

"A young woman inclined to freedom, but not to her own safety."

You recognized that voice, though you only heard it a few times. That voice... heard less than an hour before. A voice you wanted him to continue to speak to you. Some silver streak only confirmed your intuition. He released your mouth when he felt you relax.

"Prince Daemon? ..."

You turned in his direction, surprised, your pride shouted at you to answer him in a scathing way, but your spirit told you to be posed, while your heart howled incoherent things.

"Fair lady, this city can be dangerous, not as dangerous as King’s Lading but feel no doubt much more than your city."

But he was not wrong, this crowd movement, was nothing compared to an attack of bandits. Whatever you were in the middle of the day, in a street full of people, where the guards reacted quickly, rare were the attacks of bandits in such conditions.

"Thank you... for stopping us from being pushed by the guards." You had to admit, you’d rather be shot at the prince than pushed by guards.

Daemon smiles in the corner, seeing you thank him, your look avoiding him. He had interviewed your eyes in the tavern, and now that you were avoiding him, he had made it his mission to make you look at him.

"Have you visited the whole city?"

"No..." You didn’t have time to answer him.

"No, we must return to the encampment as soon as possible, before Lord Y/f/n returns, and discovers that we are not present."

Your servant had cut you off, you were irritating, you knew your father, with the day of the game, he would come home late at night and completely drunk, which means that he would not notice, your absence, even Sir Percival, was not at your bedside, Your father had ordered him to stay with him, thinking that you would stay in your tent. Sir Percival would not see your disappearance until your father was asleep in his tent.

Daemon looked at your servant, she bored her to the highest point. Her black eyes, made her shut up and looked towards the ground. If she was familiar with your kindness, she would not suffer the wrath of a prince, a Targaryen prince in addition.

Your side of the was measuring the pros and cons, to know if you stayed to go around the city with the prince, if he agreed, or you would come back now and reduce your chances of future boredom, due to your little escapade.

For:

"You discovered the city and were not locked up in your tent."

-Chances of spending the afternoon with Daemon.

-If you were with him, the opportunity to ask him questions.

"If the prince liked you, it would reduce the chances of your father correcting you."

Against:

"Your father’s reaction if he finds you missing."

-Be in your tent until the games are over.

-To be forced to marry a horrible stranger... Oh yes it is true, it was already the case, feel your exit quietly.

-Let your father learn of your sneaking out with Daemon, who already has his reputation and a nickname that was given to him in the victory of 'Rogue Prince'

Whether for or against, they were at the same numbers, in any case those you had in mind at that time.

Might as well live fully, no? But in safety. If Daemon asked you to visit the city by his side, you agreed. But if you were alone with Y/s/n, you would go back with her to the camp, putting an end to this escapade.

"So? Have you visited the city?"

"Not all of it, just the big streets."

"Are there places you would like to visit? Like the alleys where jugglers play or street theatre?"

"It sounds interesting, only... I wouldn’t mind a guide." You were hoping he understood your undertone and agreed to go with you.

"I happen to know the perfect guide." He smirk.

"Oh, who is he?"

"Me."

Your heart which had calmed down again to beat ka chamade, at the moment you thought you had misunderstood, that your imagination had played a trick on you, but by looking at him, in an interrogation way, his mocking smile. He offered you to be your guide, your blood poured into your body, a heat invaded it. You smiled softly and looked Y/s/n which was on the edge of panic. If you could calm her down, she would accompany you, she would even become a witness if anything should happen and turn against you.

With a glance from you, encouraging, she agreed to follow you, you will talk about it later, once enter your tent and without witnesses.

---

The sky was overcrowded with heavy clouds, the wind had risen slightly, a smell of rain was beginning to spread in the air.

In the city, only the people living there and not merchant had taken refuge in their cottages, the (entertainers) continued to entertain the passers-by, the different musics play by the small troupes of artists animated each street and alleys. In one of the alleys, a play was played. This one traced with "certainty" the loves and counted with confidence the number of conquest of the Lord Baratheon.

"Certainty?... There must be only half the bastards begotten."

Daemon had spoken in your ear, the sound of his voice and his breath against your cheek and neck, gave you shivers in the back, not of horror but earlier of anticipation.

"Are Lord Baratheon’s out-of-wedlock adventures so well known?" You were watching Daemon surprise and disillusionment.

"For the common people and some nobles apparently." Daemon shrugged.

Applause came out of your discussion. The audience applauds the final scene where Lord Baratheon, at least his actor, had collapsed on the alcoholic floor under the gaze of his mistresses.

“If it was one of the best shows in the city, I can’t imagine the others.” Daemon chuckled and shook his head.

"Maybe the other theatres offer shows more to your liking?"

“I highly doubt it.”

"Why not try? At least you won’t have any regrets."

Daemon shook his head again, if he were not intrigued by you, he would have refused. But at the thought of spending more time with you. He was ready to undergo the endless staging that included the theatres of the city, fortunately for him, almost all were filled by the people and were inaccessible.

Daemon had left his hood on his head so as not to be recognized. You were often at the back of the crowd, avoiding contact with other spectators. Y/s/n was nervous and on high alert, all your opposite. You forgot your troubles, live the present moment.

---

It is only when the sun sets that you return to the camp. Once inside, Daemon removed his hood releasing his silver hair, the sun gave golden hues to his hair. You watched him from the corner of your eye, an almost mystical charm emanated from him.

Servants and knights, staying in the camp looked in your direction, many were people who did not pay attention, too busy with their own concerns. Others wondered why the prince came back with you. (Mainly the people of small noble houses of the lords wanted to marry their sons)

At the time you didn’t care, until you left the prince, your little bubble, deflated without bursting. For when they entered your tent, some of your servants present, looked at you surprised and panicked, they had searched throughout the camp without finding you and had feared that you had fled or worse had been kidnapped. If you had come home later, by nightfall they should have warned your father of your disappearance. You were sorry to have frightened them and told them, but deep down, you did not regret anything, this simple moment with Prince Targaryen you allowed to change your mind, to see a side of life that you did not know, you finally felt free. Free of this tent, free of your castle, free of your father and your family’s judgments. You had finally lived part of your life.

---

On his return your father had not even seen your change in your behavior, your look in the wave, how you only half listened to what he told you while being drunk. You even smiled a little, something strange coming from you, because you usually remained closed on you when he was there. You were on your little cloud, remembering the reflections of light in Daemon’s hair, or the smell that emanated from him when you were sitting next to him. To his giggling when he mocked a stage and actors at shows. To his breath against your skin when he pulled you out of the crowd. Even if it was only one exit, the prince had managed to capture your mind much more than you could have imagined.

---

The next morning, you had prepared, not for another getaway but for the new games of the day, the Béhourd tournament was about to begin and your father wanted you to be there to show you to a lord. You were bubbling with resentment that you were riding like a fairground beast. Your father left at first, letting you grind your teeth.

As you left your tent, your gaze met that of a certain prince. He walked in the direction of the games, when he turned his head in my direction of the heavy sound of the movement of the fabrics which composed the entrance of your tent.

When Daemon saw you, he smiled in the corner, not with mockery but because it was pleasant for him to see you. In no time you walked side by side, your servant followed you, Ser Percival followed you by his side, his gaze was suspicious, you spoke so easily with the prince, that it was not normal for two people who had just met.

Along the way towards the duel field, your conversation with Daemon continued, you smiled much more than usual, even he smiled at you gently and not with his mocking smile. All along the way, you stayed too close, more than courtesy allowed. When you split up, Daemon took your hand and put a chaste fuck in it. You felt a heat rising in you, the same heat you had felt the day before, not of embarrassment (of Shame), but a pleasant warmth, of anticipation of the present moment.

“Good game, my lady.”

“Good game, Prince Daemon.”

Ser Percival was about to faint, he knew very well the rumors about the prince who was more than once named Rogue Prince, in discussions between knights of different noble houses.

He wondered about the events of the day before, he was not at your side and was afraid of what might have happened. He hoped the prince would not do this just to pass the time or to have a new nobleman to add to his conquests for the abandoned once tired of her.

---

The duels took place in the middle of the city, Lord Baratheon wanted everyone to be able to observe the duels, several of his own knights were going to fight and he wanted the greatest number to watch their victories.

People had settled on the floors of the houses to look, people could attend the fight although they were not in contact with the nobles, the most guard arena was placed in the center of the city, large bleachers had been erected as well as barriers, to limit access to the place.

As for the archery tournament, you were at your closest, your father sitting several rows behind you, but he had sat at the side of a lord, at the pace, not very neat. Y/s/s was always to be rated, but a young man, younger than the prince, with a dubious smell sat on your other side. He was more passionate about his wine cup and fighting than the people around him. If you were about to vomit, another person was bubbling.

Daemon was seated in the gallery in front of yours, his hard and ardent gaze towards you, he could see how hard you were trying to get away from the lousy one who was shouting in the direction of the fights overthrow of his wine all around him. The fights bore Daemon, but what he saw in the stands opposite him was bubbling, your father a few rows above you, looked like a drunken and unscrupulous merchant. The screaming spectators, the clash of armor and weapons, did nothing to him, he heard nothing, just his blood bubbling in his temples.

'My prince? ...' He was a servant, carrying a pitcher of wine.

“What?” It wasn’t time to bother him.

'Do you want more wine?' The servant, who had startled at the sound of Daemon’s voice, trembled.

“No.”

Daemon was not in the mood to drink wine, nor to talk to anyone. As soon as this tournament of Béhourd was finished, it would go in your direction. He was preparing a way out, to get you out of the mess your father decided to put you through.

---

When the sun reached its zenith, the game was over, you felt the wine you had not drunk, your dress was stained and this stranger followed you out of the bleachers. He made you uncomfortable, you looked around, behind you, your father was talking to the same lord at the beginning of the day. Until from the corner of your eye you saw silver hair moving in your direction. This silver hair moved very quickly, creating a crowd movement. In less than two minutes, Daemon was standing in front of you. He stood straight, a menacing look towards the gougea who was next to you.

“My lady seem to be disturbed by some ‘dirty’ boy?”

Daemon’s gaze towards the young man was murderous, he needed more than flames out of his mouth to make him look like a dragon. Ser Percival stood between you.

“You’d better get away from Ser.” The tone of his voice became increasingly threatening.

Y/s/n little reassured squeezed your arm.

“It’s nothing, Percival.”

The knight turned to look uncertain.

'The prince must have seen what it is to pass in the stands and the state of my dress.' You smiled softly to try to calm the situation.

“What’s going on?” Your father had just arrived and was looking at you with boredom.

“Go back to your tent to change, have you seen how you present yourself in the presence of a prince?”

“If that bastard hadn’t splashed his wine!”

“This bastard is her fiancé!” The lord, father of the gougea, was caught in his pride.

This sentence, dropped a stone on you, you quickly looked at your father, who although drunk had a hard look, you then looked at himself as a “fiancé” that even several poor had more pace, a wind of dread had just crossed you, it is the panicked look, You looked at the prince, lost.

Daemon saw him with your change of expression and the positioning of your back, which reminded him of that of a condemned man. He finds himself bubbling even more rage. Oh he was going to make the lord regret the idea of making you marry his son, your father was going to regret how he treated you.

Because for Daemon, you were his and his alone.

#Daemon Targaryen x reader #Daemon x reader #Daemon x chubby reader #Daemon Targaryen x chubby reader

74 notes · View notes

yenalogyy · 6 months

Text

Nakamura Kazuha | Been a while VI

The dim light from Y/N's apartment cast a soft glow as the two friends sat in silence, the clicks of the game controller providing a comforting back sound. The familiar chimes of the Kart game theme echoed through the room, a playful counterpoint to the unspoken tension.

“Ya! How dare you use the banana peel on me?!” He complained, having slipped down the ranks as Kazuha maneuvered into first place.

“Skill issue,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

His laughter filled the room, temporarily dispelling the heaviness that hung in the air. As the last lap approached, a determined look crossed his face, revenge was on his mind.

Kazuha glanced at him, her eyes searching for something unsaid. The room seemed to shrink, suffocating both of them with the weight of unspoken words.

Unbeknownst to her, he would also steal glances at her, thinking of whether he should tell her of the lingering feelings in him.

The game finally came to an end, his stomach rumbling in protest. Breaking the silence, he suggested ordering comfort food from a local restaurant. After selecting their dishes, they went for one more round of the game.

The aroma of familiar dishes filled the apartment, but the air between them remained unchanged. Memories from their high school days resurfaced, and Kazuha decided to break the silence.

"Y/N, do you remember our last day of high school?"

He nodded, his eyes distant as he recalled that poignant day. "Yeah, we promised to stay in touch, but life happened, and we drifted apart."

She looked at him, a mixture of nostalgia and sadness in her eyes. "It's strange how life turns out. We used to be inseparable, and now we're here, facing the reality of our separate paths."

He sighed, setting down his chopsticks as he met her gaze, as if preparing to share something profound.

Her gaze intensified, searching for more in his words. "Y/N. These past few meetings, I-“

Just then, a ring echoed throughout the room, interrupting the moment. Y/N, looking relieved, got up and headed for the door.

In the silence that followed, Kazuha reflected, remembering Chaewon’s advice not to confess hastily.

As he answered the door, a mutual friend, Chaewon, appeared. “Hello, Zuha-ya~. Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I just got bored and decided that I’d drop him a visit.”

“Oh.” Kazuha giggled. “Looks like this isn’t your first time coming here.”

“I came a few times with Yunjin, of course. Anyways, you seem to be enjoying your meal. Can I play on your console instead?”

“Yeah, sure. You two can play after we’re done eating. I’m gonna take a quick shower once I finish my meal.” Both Kazuha and Y/N continued to eat, engaging in small talk with him before he left the two.

“Looks like I wasn’t too late, Zuha-ya.” Chaewon remarked, though she had arrived due to Kazuha's request. The fact that they were left alone, with feelings untold made Kazuha fear that her words might slip, hence Chaewon’s arrival.

“You were almost~ late. I was about to-“

“Wow. Really? Now I’m curious. Should I leave then?”

“No! Please, stay.” Kazuha hugged Chaewon’s arm, preventing her from leaving.

“Alright~. Anyways, you haven’t told him about ‘that,’ have you?” Kazuha shook her head, implying she hadn’t.

“I see. Just make sure that you convey it to him properly, okay?”

She nodded, and shifted their focus to the game playing in front of them.

#kpopfanfic #kpopimagines #malereader #oneshot #fluff #le sserafim #nakamura kazuha

96 notes · View notes

sophie-hatter-jenkins · 5 months

Text

Hoody

Written for @hinnymicrofic December 2023 - Prompt 27

So - this got quite a lot smuttier than I expected! It isn't the first smut I've written but the first that I have posted here, and warnings do apply.

It is definitely NSFW, there is some fairly graphic sex and a bit of bad language. When it goes in AO3, It’ll be at least M rated. Consider yourself warned!

It also isn’t terribly Micro - though this seems to be a theme with my microfics!

Harry sits in the field hospital tent, stripped to the waist. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and he’s suddenly tired to his bones.

The mediwitch attending to him pokes and prods him with her wand. There’s a nasty slash, right through his robes and down his bicep. It’s deep. Diffindo, he thinks. It takes the witch a while to repair the muscle and close it up. Then there are a few more cuts and grazes, across his knuckles, along his cheekbone. When she’s done with all that, she checks the bruising that wraps around on his abdomen. It stretches over his stomach and obliques on his left hand side, and it’s already darkening rapidly. That one, he’s sure, was Bombarda. He winces as she palpates the soft, tender tissue.

“No internal damage,” she tells him, eventually. “Not much I can do for it I’m afraid.”

She hands him some pain potion, then confirms there’s no broken bones either, so that’s something. Merlin, he hates Skelegro.

“Am I good to go?” he asks. She nods. He puts the shredded, bloodied remains of his shirt and robes back on, thanks his ministering angel, and leaves the tent.

Three weeks, it’s taken. Three weeks to track, infiltrate and dismantle the potions gang. Three weeks of surveillance, disillusionment charms and setting up dummy buys. Three weeks since he’s been home. He misses Ginny and the boys - so much. But it won’t be long now. All he can think about is getting home, getting back to them.

But he isn’t quite done yet, because Robards is lurking outside the tent. Harry isn’t surprised. It’s standard operating procedure - do the debrief ASAP, while everything’s still fresh. He can’t even be pissed off about it, since he’s the one that wrote the standard operating procedures in the first place. At least there’s a mug of coffee for this bit. It’s shit coffee, but it’s hot, and it’s better than nothing.

He walks Robards through the whole thing. They’d got the bastards in the end, but not without one hell of a fight. Intel on the layout of the lab and warehouse facility hadn’t been totally accurate (bloody Dawlish. Harry would be having words), hence the fighting. And the field hospital.

When he’s finished, Robards gives him an appraising look. “Have you given any more thought to what we discussed last month?”

Harry shrugs. He’s been putting off thinking about this, using the excuse of needing to focus on the case. But that isn’t going to wash any more. “When do you need an answer?”

“I can give you to the end of the week. Then I’ll need to offer it to someone else.”

“Noted.” Harry presses his lips together, feeling conflicted. He hopes Ginny will understand why.

They sip their coffee in silence for a moment, then Harry asks Robards whether he has any spare forms for the custody paperwork. Robards takes pity on him. “Ah, get home to your wee lassie. I’ll sort it out for you.”

It’s almost eleven o’clock when he gets home, crunching up the path to the cottage from the apparition point in the dark. Lights on, though - Ginny’s still awake. Warmth spreads through his chest at the thought of seeing her.

He pushes open the door. She’s curled up on the sofa, wearing his old Gryffindor hoody, though it’s miles too big for her. Her legs are bare, hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head. She’s conjured a ball of soft yellow light to read by, and it’s hovering just over her shoulder, warming her skin and highlighting the freckles that dust her cheeks. He doesn’t think she’s ever looked better.

As soon as she sees him, she bolts off the sofa and hurls herself at him. “You’re back! Thank Merlin.”

“Yeah.” He breathes in the scent of her, warm and comforting and so familiar. Feels himself relax, letting go of tension he didn’t realise he was carrying. “I missed you. So much.”

She hugs him tighter, and he winces a bit. She feels it, and lets go, looks at him a bit more closely and clocks the blood on his cheek, the damage to his robe. “Oh fuck, Harry! Are you hurt?”

He shrugs. “A bit. But you should see the other guy.” It’s a shit joke, but she laughs anyway. “Seriously, I’m fine. Nothing major,” he reassures her. Not this time, anyway, he adds silently, pretty sure she’s thinking the same.

“Hungry?” she asks. “I could make some toast or something?”

He shakes his head. “I just need a shower. And some sleep.”

She nods, takes his hand and leads him up the stairs. Hands him a towel. He pokes his head into the nursery while she turns the water on for him, watches two little chests slowly rise and fall. It makes his own chest hurt a little. But in a good way.

He takes his time in the shower, scrubbing away dried blood, wondering how much of it is his. He thinks she might join him, but she doesn’t. Instead, she uses the loo and brushes her teeth. When he heads back to their bedroom, hair damp, towel wrapped around his waist, he finds her sitting on the mattress at the foot of the bed, facing the door. Her eyes land on the bruising on his side.

“That looks nasty.”

“Just superficial.”

She’s still wearing his hoody. He wonders what she’s wearing underneath it.

“Well now, Potter. Why don’t you come here and find out?” she suggests, which is when he realises he wondered out loud.

The answer, he soon discovers, as he tugs it up over her head, is a pair of knickers, pink striped cotton, and nothing else. She’s been sleeping like this, she explains. She feels closer to him that way.

“But I’d have made more effort if I knew you were coming home,” she laughs. Just at that moment though, he’s struggling to think of anything sexier, as he takes her hands and pulls her up to meet him craving the contact of her skin against his.

He drops kisses along her collarbone and runs his hands greedily down her back, until his fingertips meet the hem of her knickers, slips them down over her hips, revelling in the way his hands fit so perfectly over the curve of her bum. She sighs with relief, then nudges his chin aside, reaching up to find his lips with hers. Her mouth is soft and open and tastes of mint toothpaste, her tongue dancing against his, their kiss deep and insistent.

Her hands skate down his chest, and his skin feels so much more alive for her touch. She presses herself firmly against him, fingers dropping lower to tug away his towel, and god he’s missed her, missed this, so so much. He’s hard as hell, and she rocks up against him, making him twitch and gasp at the pressure.

He pushes her backwards until her calves make contact with the bed. She falls, sprawling across the blankets, giving him a filthy, lazy smile, eyes dark, daring him to join her. And well, he never could resist a challenge, could he?

He kneels over her, kissing his way up her thighs, feeling her shiver below him. Thinks about taking her over the edge with his mouth, but tonight, he wants to watch her, properly, and lets his fingers settle between her legs. This, he knows how to do, with a practised and familiar ease, and she’s so very ready for him. She breathes in sharply, burying her face into his shoulder as his fingers dance over just the right spot, side to side, with a steady pressure and rhythm. She pushes her head back, eyes closed tight, squirming against him, but he takes his time, bringing her closer and closer. Then he twists his hand so that his thumb is circling her, slipping two fingers inside, finding her slick and hot, and suddenly she’s there, throat and chest flushed red. She bites down a groan in the back of her throat to stop herself crying out, the way she always does since they had the kids, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the fascination of watching her come apart like this.

“Please,” she whispers, and he can’t deny either of them any longer. He shifts his weight so that he’s above her and a moment later, sinks deeply into her, feeling her still pulsing all around him. She clings to him as he rocks back and forth inside her, muttering her name over and over into her ear, losing himself in the feel of her until he’s tumbling, uncontrolled into blissful oblivion. Suddenly, he feels the weight of three long weeks apart lifting. Now he feels whole again. Now he’s home.

Afterwards, they lie quietly together. He should be sleepy, but he isn’t. She’s nestled in against his shoulder, his arm curled around behind her, idly stroking the curve of her breast. They chat for a while about her work - the matches she’s covered, the frustrating office politics, an opinion piece on the new management at Puddlemere that he managed to read while he was on stakeout. She tells him that a glossy magazine wants to commission her for a series on the future of European Quidditch, and he tells her (again) how bloody proud he is of her.

“I wanted to tell you straight away.” She looks at him with a small, sad smile. “I hate it when you’re away.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “What if I wasn’t?”

“Wasn’t what?” she asks, her fingers intertwined with his, playing absentmindedly with his wedding ring.

“Away. Again. In the future I mean.”

She rolls away and props herself up on one elbow so she can look at him. She’s frowning - not in anger, just confusion. “What does that mean?”

He takes a moment, because he knows once the words are out, he can’t take them back. It stops being his problem, and starts being theirs, and he still struggles with what feels like burdening her - anyone, really - with his shit. He looks up at the ceiling.

“Robards offered me a job. A new one. A promotion, actually.”

“Okay. What sort of job?”

And so he tells her - how he’s been badgering Robards for months about hiring more people. Came up with a plan for how to do it and everything. How Robards took it to Kingsley, and Kingsley took it to the Wizengamot. “It’s massive, Gin. Too many people to just train on the job like before. There’s going to be this whole new training academy. And… and Robards needs someone to run it.”

“And that would be you?”

“If I say yes.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you want to do it?”

“I… I don’t know.” He searches again for the right words. “I love what I do right now. I love making a difference. Sometimes I think I’d miss it too much - being out there, catching the bad guys. It’s all I’ve ever done.”

“And the other times?”

He doesn’t reply straight away. Thinks about the slash to his arm, the bruising on his torso, Diffindo and Bombarda and shield charms a split second too late. Thinks about the two small boys asleep down the hall, about Ginny, warm and yielding, lying next to him. “I wonder why the fuck I haven’t bitten Robards’s hand off for it yet.”

He feels her laughter on his shoulder, just a puff of air. “I get it,” she tells him.

And then he realises - actually, she really does. He turns to look at her properly. “You miss playing?”

“Every day,” she nods. “But what I don’t miss is the residential training camps, the overseas exhibition match tours, every bit of my body aching, the constant bludger injuries. I certainly wouldn’t swap being here for the boys to go back to it. And also - I love writing as well. If I had to give it up now, I’d miss that too.” She reaches over and runs her hand down his jaw, fingers in his beard. “Different doesn’t have to mean worse, you know.”

And she’s right, isn’t she? Of course she is. She asks him to tell her more about it, so he does - his plans for recruitment, what the trainees should study, his ideas on how to mix practical and theoretical training.

She laughs at him. “Okay, Hermione, time to lay off the polyjuice.” He pretends to pout, but actually, it’s a fair cop. “You actually sound excited about it, you know,” she observes.

“I… I kinda think I am.”

She smiles encouragingly. “Harry, I’m not going to tell you what to do. We’re a team, and I’ll support you whatever you decide. For what it’s worth though - you’re a great teacher. The new recruits would be lucky to have you. And you being here, every night, with me and the boys, all of us together? Isn’t that what we always wanted?”

He’s quiet again. Then he grins at her. “You wouldn’t mind having me around a bit more?”

She laughs at the absurdity of the question. “I’d love it! Of course I would! We all would.”

“Okay then,” he tells her. “I’ll tell Robards tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He laughs, a soft breathy sort of laugh. Draws her back into his arms, knowing it’s all going to be okay. That with them, it always is.

#hinny microfic #hinny #harry x ginny #harry potter #ginny weasley #fanfic

61 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 5 days

Text

Bohman is a good character you guys are just mean

Yu-Gi-Oh Vrains is one of the better received spinoff series. Though, like any of the Yu-Gi-Oh spinoffs it's not without its faults. Usually I'm the first to admit the flaws in my favorite silly card game shows, even while I myself take them way too seriously. However, there's one common criticism I can't bring myself to agree with.

That is calling the main antagonist of the second season Bohman "boring" or "badly written." I've noticed fans unfairly blame Bohman for season 2's writing flaws.

Forget for a moment about whether or not you find Bohman's stoic attitude interesting or likable. If you look at characters not as people, but as narrative tools the author uses to say something about the story's themes then Bohman has a lot to say about VRAINS cyberpunk themes.

Cyberpunk is a subgenre of science fiction that tends to focus on "low-life and high-tech." As I like to put it, in Cyberpunk settings technology has greatly advanced while society itself lags behind unable to keep pace with the rate at which technology changes. Yu Gi Oh 5Ds is an example of a cyberpunk dystopia because despite having what is essentially access to free energy, and living in a society with highly advanced technology resources are hoarded by the wealthy and an unnecessary social class divide still exists.

In other words technology changes quickly while humans tend to remain the same.

The central conflict for all three seasons of Vrains are actually based on this very cyberpunk notion. That technology changes, updates, and becomes obsolete at a rate too fast for humans to ever adapt to. For Vrains, the conflict is whether humans can ever coexist with an artificial intelligence they created that can grow and change faster than they can keep up with.

This is well-tread ground in science fiction. The idea itself most likely emerged from I,robot. A science fiction book that is a collection of dirty stories that details a fictional history showing robots growing slowly advanced over time. The framing device is that a journalist is interviewing a "robopsychologist" an expert in the field of analyzing how robots think in their positronic brains.

One of the major themes of the book is despite the fact that robots are 1 - intelligent and 2 - designed by humans, they don't think the same way humans do. Hence why a robopsychologist is needed in the first place. One of the short stories is the first appearance of Asimov's three laws of robotics.

The First Law: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

The Second Law: A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

The Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

This is just one example. A robot no matter how intelligent it is will be required to think in terms of these three laws, because robots aren't biological, they're programmed to think in pre-determined patterns.

Of course clever enough artificial intelligences are capable of finding loopholes that get around the three laws, but even then they're still forced to think of every action in terms of the three laws.

Robots and humans are both intelligent, but if AI ever becomes self aware it will 1) be able to process information better than any other human can and 2) think differently from humans on a fundamental.

Vrains is themed more than anything else around "robo psychology" or trying to understand the ways in how the Ignis think and how that's different from it's human characters.

Robo-Psychology is actually a common reocurring theme. "DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP?" fearless artificial humans known as Replicants who need an empathy test known as the voight kampff test to distinguish them from human beings.

There are other Cyberpunk elements in Vrains. There's a big virtual world where everyone can appear as custom designed avatars, that's taken from Snow Crash or of the most famous and genre defining cyberpunk novels. There's a big rich mega conglomerate that's being opposed by a group of hackers.

However, the central question is whether humans and AI can coexist in spite of the fact that AI are much smarter and evolve faster than us.

Revolver's father believes the Ignis must be destroyed in order to avoid a possible technological singularity in the future.

The technological singularity—or simply the singularity[1]—is a future point in time at which technological growth becomes uncontrollable. According to the most popular version of the singularity hypothesis an upgradable artificial intelligence will eventually enter a positive feedback loop of self-improvement cycles, each new and more intelligent generation appearing more and more rapidly, causing a rapid increase ("explosion") in intelligence that surpasses anything humans can make.

Basically your computer is smarter than you, but your computer isn't self aware. It needs you to tell it what to do. Artificial intelligence already exists but it's programmed by humans, it doesn't program itself. The technological singularity proposes that eventually a self aware ai, will be able to program itself and improve upon it's own programming- therefore ridding itself of the need of it's human programmers.

This is what leads us to Bohman, an AI designed by another AI.

THE THIRD LAW

Before digging into Bohman let's take a minute to discuss his creator. Lightning was one of the six Ignis, created by Dr. Kogami through the Hanoi Project.

The Hanoi project involved forcing six children to duel in a virtual arena repeatedly, and using the data collected from that experiment to improve the AI they were working on, creating what became known as the Ignis. However, after Dr. Kogami ran several simulations and found that the Ignis would one day be a threat to the humans that created them Hakase decided instead to try destroying the Ignis before that future ever came to pass.

We later learn that this isn't the complete story.

Kogami and Lightning both ran simulations of the future when the Ignis were in their infancy. Kogami's simulations showed him the Ignis would inevitably go to war with humans. Lighting however, ran more in-depth simulations and found that he was the one that was corrupting the data set. If you ran simulations of the five ignis without him, then the projected futures were all in the green, but any simulation with Lightning counted as a part of the group projected a negative future for both humans and AI.

Which means that if Kogami knew that the bug in the program was Lightning, he'd likely respond by just getting rid of Lighting and letting the rest of the Ignis live on as originally intended.

This is where the third law comes into play - a robot must protect its own existence as long as it does not interfere with the first and second law.

Now, I don't think Kogami used the three laws exactly, but artificial intelligences are programmed in certain ways, and Lightning was likely programmed to preserve itself.

Even a human in Lighting's situation would be driven to act as they did. Imagine you're in a group of six people, and you fid out that YOU'RE THE PROBLEM. That if they removed you, everything else would be fine. Wouldn't you be afraid of your creator turning against you? Of your friends turning against you and nobody taking your side?

Lightning is a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Ai asks him at one point why he went so far as to destroy their safe-haven, lie and said the humans did it and pick a fight with the humans himself, something that might have been avoided if they'd just stayed in hiding. It seems that Lightning is just defective as his creator declared him, but you have to remember he's an AI programmed to think in absolutes. AI, the most humanlike and spontaneous of the AIs ends up making nearly the exact same choices as Lightning when looking at his simulations later on - because they're character foils. As different as they may seem they still think differently from humans.

When Ai explains why he made his decisions based around lighting's simulation, he tells Playmaker that he can't dismiss or ignore the simulation or hope for the best the way Playmaker can because he is data, he thinks in simulations and processes.

AI even admits to feeling the same feelings of self-preservation that Lightning did.

While Lightning may seem selfish, he's selfish in the fact that he's thinking of his own survival above all else. He's afraid of 1) his creators turning against him, and 2) his fellow Ignis turning against him.

To solve the first he decides to make a plan to wipe out his creators. To solve the second, he needs every ignis on his side when he goes to war. The first thing he does is destroy their safe haven and frame the humans for it so the Ignis are more inclined to take his side. He's so afraid of his fellow ignis turning against him he even completely reprograms one of them - a step he doesn't take with the others, he just imprisons Aqua. He probably thought having one more ally would make it more likely for the others to pick his side.

Every step he takes is a roundabout way of ensuring his survival and the other ignis- eve when he actually goes to war with the other ignis he intended on letting them survive. Though his definition of survival (fusing with Bohman) was different than theirs.

So Lightning seems to be working out of an inferiority complex, but what he's really afraid of is that his inferiority makes him expendable.

At that point you have to wonder, what does death mean exactly to a being who is otherwise immortal? Ignis won't die of age, they'll only die if they're captured and have their data stripped apart or corrupted. Kogami made an immortal being afraid to die.

Some part of me thinks though that even after taking all these steps to preserve themselves, the simulations were so convincing that Lighting accepted their death as inevitable. Which is why they made Bohman, to find some way for them to keep on living afterwards.

After all AI are data, ad having their data saved in Bohman is still a form of living by Lightning's definition.

Ghost in The Shell

Bohman is the singularity. He's an AI designed by another AI to improve upon itself. Unlike the rest of the Ignis who were copied off of traumatized chidlren, Lightning basically made him from scratch.

Ghost in the Sell is a famous anime cyberpunk movie directed by Mamoru Oshii. The title comes from "Ghost in the Machine" a term originally used to describe and critique the mind existing alongside and separate from the body. Whereas in the movie the "Ghost" is the huma consciousness, while the "shell" is a cybernetic body.

The protagonist of Ghost in the Shell is Major Motoko Kusanagi, a human that is 99% cyborg at this point, a human brain residing in a completely mechanical body. The movie opens up with a hacker namd PUppet Master who is capable of "ghost-hacking" which is a form of hacking that completely modifies the victim's memories utterly convincing them of their false memories.

There's a famous scene in the movie where a man tells the police about his wife and daughter, only to be told that he's a bachelor who lives alone and he's never had a wife and daughter. Even after the truth is revealed to him, the fake memories are still there in his brain along with the correct ones. Technology is so advanced at this point that digital memories (hacked memories) are able to be manipulated, and seem more real than an analog reality.

Anyway, guess what happens to Bohman twice?

Bohman gets his memories completely rewritten twice. The first time he believes he's a person looking for his lost memories, the second time he thinks he's the real playmaker ripped out of his body, and playmaker is the copy. He's utterly convinced of these realities both time, because Bohman is entirely digital - and simulations are reality, and so simulated memories are just the same as real memories.

I think part of the reason that people find Bohman boring is because he's a little strange conceptually to wrap your head around, as an AI produced AI he's the farthest from behind human. If you use the ghost in the shell example I just gave you though - imagine being utterly convinced that you had a loving wife and daughter only to find out in a police interrogation room you're a single man living in a shitty apartment. imagine after the fact you still remember that they are real, even though you know they're not.

That's the weird space Bohman exists in for most of Season 2 when he's searching for himself. He's an AI designed by an AI so he can be rewritten at any time according to Lightning's whim until Lighting decides he's done cooking.

The Ignis at least interacted with the real world because they were copy pasted from traumatized children, but all Bohman is is data. So, why would he see absorbing human memories into himself and converting them into data as killing them? He is data after all, and he is alive. He has gone through the process of having his own memories rewritten multiple times, and he's fine with it b/c he's data.

Nothing for Bohman is real, everything is programmed so of course he thinks saving other people as data is just fine. He even offers to do the same thing to Playmaker that was done to him.

If Lightning is following the path of self-preservation however, Bohman is following his program to preserve everything in the world by merging with it.

His ideas also follow the idea of transhumanism: the theory that science and technology can help human beings develop beyod what is physically and mentally possible. That technology exists to blur the boundaries of humanity, and what humans are capable of.

Ghost in the Shell isn't just a work of cyberpunk, it's a transhumanist piece. Motoko Kusanagi is a character who has had so many of her human parts replaced with mechanical ones she even posits at one point it's possible for her to simply have been an android that was tricked into thinking it was human with false memories just like Bohman, and she has no real way of knowing for sure. The only biological part of her his her brain after all in a cold mechanical shell.

Bato, who represents the humanist perspective in this movie basically tells Motoko in that scenario it wouldn't matter if she was a machine. If everyone still treats her as human then what's the difference? His views are probably the closest to the humanist views that Playmaker represents in VRAINS.

Motoko Kusanagi meets her complete and total opposite, a ghost in the machine so to speak. The Puppet Master turns out to be an artificial intelligence that has become completely self-aware and is currently living in the network.

The Puppet Master much like Lightning, and later Bohman is gripping with the philosophical conundrum of mortality. In the final scene of the movie, The Puppet Master who wants to be more like all other biological matter on earth asks Motoko to fuse with him, so the two of them can reproduce and create something entirely new. The Puppet Master likens this to the way that biological beings reproduce.

Bohman like The Puppetmaster thinks that merging will fix something that's incomplete inside of him because he's so disconnected from all the biological processes of life. Bohman doesn't have anything except for which Lightning already prepared for him or programmed into him. I mean imagine being a being that can have his memories reprogrammed on the net, that in itself is existentially horrifying. It's only natural he wouldn't feel connected to anything.

Motoko accepts the Puppetmaster's proposal. Playmaker rejects Bohman's proposal. I don't think there's a right answer here, because it's speculative fiction, it's a "What if?" for two different paths people can take in the future.

However, in Bohman's case I don't think he was truly doing what he wanted. Puppet Master became self aware and sought his own answers by breaking free from his programming. Bohman thought he was superior to the Ignis, but in the end he was just following what Lightning programmed him to do. He'd had his identity programmed and reprogrammed so many times, he didn't think of what he wanted until he was on the brink of defeat by playmaker and then it was too late.

When Playmaker defeats him all he thinks about is time spent together with Haru, with the two of them as individuals. Something he can no longer do anymore now that he's absorbed Haru as data, and something that he misses.

He's not even all that sad or horrified at the prospect of death as Lightning was, and he even finds solace in the thought of going to oblivion with Haru, because if he were to keep living it'd be without Haru. In other words the one genuine bond he made with someone else by spending time with them as an individual was more important than his objective of fusing with all of humanity - which he believed was also bonding with them.

This is really important too, because it sets up the Yusaku's rejection of fusing with Ai. Yusaku's reasoning has already been demonstrated to be the case with Bohman and Haru. Bohman was perfectly happy being two individuals, as long as he had a bond with his brother. When he ascended into a higher being he lost that. Ai and Yusaku might solve loneliness in a way by merging together into a higher being, they might even last forever that way, but they'd lose something too.

Once again the problem with AIs is that they think in absolutes. That's important to understanding Lightning, Bohman and even Ai's later actions. Lightning can't stand any percentage chance that he might die, so he kills the professor, destroys the ignis homeworld, pulls the trigger to start humanity himself, he even reprograms his own allies all to give himself some sense of control.

Bohman's entire existence is outside of his control. He's rewritten twice onscreen, probably more than that, and he thinks merging with humanity is the thing that will give him that control - by ascending into a higher being than humanity. However, the temporary bond Bohman had with his brother Haru, was actually what he valued the most all along. Moreso than the idea of fusing with humanity forever.

Even Motoko making the choice to go with the transhumanist option is something that's not portrayed as 100% the right choice. Ghost in the Shell has a sequel that portrays the depression and isolation of Bato, the Major's closest friend and attachment to her humanity after she made the decision to fuse together with Puppet Master. In that case, just like Playmaker said to Ai, even if she ascended to a higher form, and even if she might last forever now on the network, something precious was lost. Motoko may exist somewhere on the netowrk but for Batoto his friend is gone.

Ai exhibits the same flaw as the previous two, he ca only think in absolutes, he can't stand even a 1% chance that Playmaker might choose to sacrifice himself for Ai and die, so he decides to take the choice entirely out of Playmaker's hands. However, no matter what Ai would have lost Playmaker one day, because all bonds are temporary. It's just Ai wanted to have that sense of control, so he chose to self-destruct and take that agency and free choice away from Playmaker.

It's a tragedy that repeats three times. Ai too just like Bohman, spends his last moments thinking about what was most precious to him was the bond he formed with playmaker, as temporary as it was. A tragedy that arises from the inability of the Ais to break away from the way they're programmed to think in simulations and data, even when they're shown to be capable of forming bonds based on empathy with others.

All three of them add something to the themes of artificial intelligence, and transhumanism that are in play at Vrains and none of them are boring because they all contribute to the whole.

Which is why everyone needs to stop being mean to Bohman right now, or else I'm going to make an even longer essay post defending him.

#yu gi oh vrains #yu gi oh #playmaker #ai #yusaku fujiki #bohman #lightning #ignis #ygo meta

35 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 1 year

Note

for joel 😘

“Spread your legs wider.”

“Louder. Let me hear you.”

“Say my name.”

“You can do better than that.”

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE OF LOVE

➝ A HURT INTERLUDE

a/n: chapter three really took all of my brain power, but somehow i managed to churn this small piece of just filth out. you and i have talked extensively about this interlude, which has helped a ton. so thank you for the request babes and i hope you like it! this is the first joel smut i'm ever posting so this is both exciting and nerve wracking. also i know the request is full on filth, but i threw in so much angst as well so.....hence the gif.

summary: joel's inhibitions were gone when it came to you.

word count: 2.9k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, cussing, masturbation, slight voyeurism, p in v sex, joel being horny with a capital H, fantasies.

series masterlist

Living through a world altering event would never cease to feel as if you’d died and fallen into the lands of hell. On accident no less. Enduring it as your body struggled to keep up, with a wound that remained on your side large enough to rip open at a moment’s notice, was worse. For days Joel had only allowed you to move at a slow pace. One that wouldn’t destroy the messy patching up job he was able to attempt.

You found it endearing though.

The car came in handy to move from place to place, but in the end you always came back to the house you were staying in. Joel never told you what he did with the bodies, never gave you any indication as to them being there in the first place. For that you were grateful. You weren’t sure how you could return to a house that still housed two people who tried to kill you—two people you watched Joel kill in return.

Never in your life had someone defended you so ruthlessly, risking everything to save your life, to make sure you were protected. The knowledge that Joel was willing to kill to keep you out harm's way, left a warmth in your chest that continued to spread day by day. The longer you spent time with him, the more you understood what he meant to you, and possibly…what you meant to him.

Which made the time spent with him recently so maddening. With each touch, look, and word spoken, you couldn’t stop your body from reacting in a way that should have embarrassed you. All you did was kiss and yet it felt like he had reached into your chest and caressed your soul. As if with that one simple action, he laid claim to what was already his. Your heart raced in his presence, mind becoming hazy with a lust you’d never experienced before with another person.

You couldn’t focus. Not with your imagination conjuring up images of him above you, thoughts of what he might feel like inside of you now running rampant in your head.

So you did what you continued to do flawlessly. You ignored every single emotion that begged you for release. Every time he got near, you pretended that the kiss never happened. That you still remained nothing but two partners attempting to fight for survival in a world that wanted to kill you.

“I’m going to clean up a bit,” he murmured, nodding his head towards the bathroom that used to work.

The both of you got lucky earlier in the week, finding a river that had relatively fresh water. You made the suggestion of filling up the empty gallons of gasoline tanks that Joel had found in the house’s garage, and he agreed. The people who used to live there must have bought them in case of an emergency, except when it finally came time to use them, they never got to. Thankfully the trip took less time with the car, and even if he didn’t allow you to help him, you still forced him to let you drive. Walking you couldn’t do, but driving you were an expert at.

“I’ll be here,” you said, laying on the couch, propped up by your bag and wrapped in his jacket.

The domesticity of the situation wasn’t lost on you now, just like it wasn’t before. Him cleaning up as you lounged on the couch awaiting his return. It felt too real. Too much like the life you could have had beforehand, and you felt your heart break at that notion. That eventually this would come to an end. You would both have to leave towards Boston, searching for another place to settle, and then…you might never get the imagined life you desperately wanted with him.

Joel glanced at you, your legs stretched out, body covered by his jacket, and he felt the same burn from before return. This time though, he couldn’t ignore it. As much as he wanted to move past what happened the other night, the facts stayed the same. He kissed you. He wasn’t sure if it was the kiss that caused his heart to twist and body to burn each time he looked your way, or if the feelings he tried so hard to shove down, were back with a newfound strength.

He turned away quickly, heading towards the bathroom before you could see the now evident bulge in his pants. These feelings would go away eventually, giving him reprieve from the knife that dug its way into his heart. Carving at what remained until he finally admitted what he was afraid of—what he couldn’t seem to let go of.

Nearly losing you terrified him.

No matter how much he thought about what would happen when you parted ways, how many scenarios he conjured up in his head, he knew the truth that was buried in the darkest parts of his heart. He wouldn’t let you go when you got to Boston. He couldn’t. You made this otherwise shitty world shine just a bit brighter, giving him enough light to see his future clearly.

“Fuck,” he rasped, the second the door shut behind him.

His heart continued to beat rapidly in his chest, his body aching in a way he hadn’t felt since before the outbreak. Joel wasn’t entirely abstinent afterwards either, he couldn’t deny that. But those people were a means to a release that would calm him long enough to make it on his own. You however…you were the one person who could lay claim to his body, his heart, and he’d give it over willingly without question.

Through the years, Joel never gave himself to anyone, knowing that to let someone in was to kill them. Except he never let you in.

You tore through his walls, took whatever broken parts he had left, and cared for them all the same.

Maybe that’s why he was currently standing with his hands gripping onto the dirty sink, eyes shut tight and chest heaving as he fought off going back out there. He couldn’t have you, because you weren’t his to have. So he settled for his imagination.

With a grunt, he undid the button of his jeans, the tight confine too much for him to take. If he were anywhere else, he’d allow himself the small pleasure of taking his time—something that the world no longer allowed. But you were in the other room, laying on the couch—looking utterly perfect—and Joel knew that if he thought about what he was about to do for too long, he wouldn’t do it. He also knew that if he allowed the feelings to fester, he’d lose it and somehow fuck up eventually.

So, he sucked in a sharp breath, pulled himself out and bit down on his left bicep to stifle the ragged groan that tore from him. It had been quite awhile since he gave himself this, since he even bothered to find release. Usually it was quick, a few strokes to get himself there, and then he continued on about his day. Now…his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Joel was too far gone to even realize what was happening—his cock practically leaking over his palm. Squeezing his eyes shut, his hips jerked forward at the first stroke of his hand—pleasure streaking down his spine so potent he felt dizzy. What he wouldn’t give for the feel of sinking into you, of watching your face go slack with pleasure because of him. Biting back another grunt, he spread his precum down his cock, his breaths coming out in short gasps that barely gave him enough oxygen.

“Oh—shit.” His words were strangled, face tingeing red with the exertion of the quick pumps of his hand that stung slightly. If anything the pain only amplified the pleasure that continued to fill his veins.

He lurched forward, his hand almost slapping against the wall, head tilting back and exposing the expanse of his strained neck. He imagined what you would do if you were here with him. Would your hand feel soft, gentle, compared to the rough calloused skin of his palm that he’d grown used to?

Gasping, he tried his best to keep quiet, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of you hearing him. But some sick twisted part of him hoped that his groans carried, that you would finally understand what exactly you did to him. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, hand tightening slightly with just the right amount of pressure to send heat pooling rapidly into his stomach. He wanted you to be here, wanted you to whisper soft words of encouragement in his ear. Yet the circumstances of life only allowed him to live through his mind.

The image of you beneath him forming rapidly the faster his release built.

“Joel,” you sighed, head tilted back and mouth dropping open as a moan worked its way up your throat. You bit down quickly on your bottom lip, eyes shut tightly in the hopes of staving off the inevitable pleasure that threatened to consume you.

His fingers gripped at your chin, dark eyes swallowing you whole as he watched you finally let loose the sound he wanted to hear. “Louder. Let me hear you,” he rasped, his other hand dropping to grip at your thigh.

“Oh—” He sank in deeper, his cock brushing a part of you that made your legs shake and eyes roll back. You couldn’t stop the cry that tore from you, your breath going with it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, head dipping to kiss at the glistening skin of your neck. “My good fucking girl.”

Your walls fluttered, slick gushing around his cock and gathering in the coarse hairs at the base of him. Normally you’d be embarrassed about how wet you were, but the shame washed away with every slow rock of his hips. How could you be ashamed when it was all for him? All because of him. Gasping, you dug your nails into his back in the hopes of dragging him closer. He was pressed up against you, hot skin against yours, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted to sink into him, to exist for him.

He pulled back much to your disappointment, pressing his knees into the mattress and pulling you closer. “Spread your legs wider for me darlin’,” he breathed, and you followed his request without question.

His thumb connected with your clit sending a jolt through your body that nearly had your back bowing off the bed. Joel overwhelmed you. He took and took, but gave just as much back—if not more. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name, nails scraping along his shoulder blades when he shifted the angle of his thrusts. The head of his cock striking against something eviscerating inside of you.

“Fuck, Joel!” Hot tears streamed down the sides of your temple, falling into your hair.

He felt it, the tight clamp of your cunt that nearly sent him over the edge earlier than he wanted. Grunting, he tried to stop the tightening that began in his stomach, but it was too much. His mind was hazy with pleasure, thoughts of you consuming him until nothing was left. If he wasn’t careful, Joel would lose himself to you—you and all your beautiful demons.

Yanking your leg up higher on his waist, he doubled his efforts. Driving his cock into you until you grew more incoherent with each thrust. His name was a prayer on your lips and Joel wanted to hear it louder; he wanted to drown in your reverence until all the bad washed out of his veins. Falling forward, his hand dug into the sheets beneath you, eyebrows pulling tight as you chased the growing release that would shatter you.

“Say my name,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “C’mon baby say it for me.”

“J-Joel,” you gasped, hips rolling to meet his thrusts the best you could, but he practically had you pinned to the bed. Each shove of his cock into your wet dripping cunt, nearly sent you higher up on the bed.

His lips pulled up into a smirk, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “You can do better than that.” His hand dropped down to your clit, thumb circling it with enough pressure to cut off the words that sat on the tip of your tongue.

He felt it before he could stop it. His balls drew up until it was almost painful, eyes screwing shut as he panted into your open mouth. Pressing down further on your clit, he managed to wrench his eyes open to see your roll back in your head. You sobbed his name, your back arching—chest pressing into his—as your cunt clamped down on his cock and took everything he had left to give.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His moan was raspy and broken, and a soft breathy echo of your name slipped free.

Joel curled in on himself, his mouth dropping open in a breathless grunt as he spilled over his hand and into the sink. Still, he kept going. Pumping his hand in quick strokes, he did what he could to prolong the pleasure that filled his body, until eventually it gave way to pain. Sucking in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth, he finally let go of himself, running his thumb along the head of his cock and pushing what remained out.

He opened his eyes, the image of you disappearing from his mind as he was met with the cold emptiness of the bathroom.

Even though his body hummed with bliss, a calm finally returning to his veins, he felt the shame twist in his gut. He shouldn’t have allowed it to get that far. Shouldn’t have given into his depravity, but the thought of it one day coming true was too enticing to forgo.

He sighed, grabbing the shirt he meant to clean tonight and fixed up the mess that took another part of his soul.

What he didn’t know was that you heard the echo of his hand hitting the wall, heard his pained grunt as he came over his hand. Originally you thought he was hurt, that he might need your help. So you got up, stifled the scream of pain that your body let out, and managed to get to the bathroom door. Until you heard it. The soft moan of your name that had you freezing in your spot, eyes going wide and heart hammering in your chest.

Joel wasn’t in pain. Far from it.

You knew you should have given him privacy, walked away and pretended like nothing happened, but it was your name you heard. The same raging fire that you fought against for weeks finally broke free, spreading its way down your body. Consuming you whole. Your hands were clenched at your sides, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He wanted you. Joel—the man you refused to be attracted to, lest it get in the way of your trip—wanted you the same way you longed for him.

Before you could move back to the couch, the door swung open to reveal that very man. Joel’s face went slack with shock as he caught you standing there, his hand gripping onto the door handle so tight that his knuckles turned white. Any words he could have said died in his throat at the sight of your wide eyes and parted lips. The very same lips he had kissed not too long ago. His spent cock twitched in his pants, the flush of heat once again going through his body.

He wondered if you heard him and felt the guilt crush his heart. “Boston?” he asked, breaking the silence.

That seemed to shake you from your shocked state. “I um…” You couldn’t stop the way your eyes dropped to his lips for a brief moment. “Just wanted to know if I could get in there. To clean up and…such.”

In all honesty you wanted him to touch you, wanted to know what he sounded like as he finally gave into the heady pleasure that coursed through both of your veins. But you saw the hesitancy in his eyes. You knew he was retreating from something he wanted, because of the fear that nearly losing you already caused him. Joel understood that when it came to you, if he finally gave into that feeling of want, he’d never be able to give it up.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, shifting to move past you, his hand brushing yours for a brief second.

You wanted to reach for him, to tell him that everything he probably felt…you felt too. Except the grief you watched him go through that night still weighed on your shoulders. He nearly lost you and you knew that if he hadn’t managed to save you in the end, the Joel you knew would have been gone forever. So you entered the bathroom, shut the door, and wiped away the stray tear that fell down your cheek.

It didn’t matter how much either of you were desperate for the other's touch. The truth still stared you in the face. No matter how much you longed for the pleasure, for him to finally fill that empty spot in your heart, it would never outweigh the pain you would feel if you lost him for good.

That alone was enough for you to shut your emotions away, reminding yourself that you were not here to fall in love.

You were here to survive.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #hurt #my writing

238 notes · View notes

susansontag · 8 months

Text

for people who have read the neapolitan/my brilliant friend quartet, I have a question: how do you interpret the moment in book 3 where professor galiani humiliates elena in favour of lila?

I was reading about people interpreting this moment in the show on reddit, and was struck by all the differing viewpoints. the two most prominent ones focus on lila and her two opposing reactions to elena's dismissal by the professor, publicly trying to make it seem like elena looks down on her by saying to galiani that she didn't invite her to her wedding, whereas outside afterwards badmouthing the galiani family and telling elena she noticed how awfully they treated her. iirc, lila also uses this moment where she seems to be on elena's side to chastise her for placing so much merit on what the educated galianis think and do, further complicating the issue of exactly what lila is thinking at this moment and whether she's trying to play both sides.

one viewpoint is that lila isn't fooled by the professor and thinks she's merely complimenting her as a means of humiliating lenù, and is sincerely on elena's side. the other viewpoint is that she sincerely liked being complimented and focused on, and even partly enjoyed her more educated friend being put down and dismissed by someone she cared about, whilst also simultaneously realising she should feel bad about this, hence the cold comfort she gives lenù afterwards. I think there's merit to both of these viewpoints and will say that, whatever is correct, I do think lila sincerely dislikes professor galiani but also, like most people, loves being complimented.

but what really gets me is: for what purpose does professor galiani treat elena this way? so much focus on lila, the enigma, but not enough people asking why galiani is being such a dick lmao.

I myself wonder if we're supposed to view this moment where elena's mentor (professor galiani) puts her down as parallel to the one in their teenage years where lila's mentor (maestra oliviero), puts lila down. in both cases, we have an educated mentor showing disapproval towards one of them for various reasons. with oliviero it's obvious as she clarifies to elena later—she thinks lila's intellectual talents have been wasted and is disgusted/disappointed at her having become a housewife with, in her opinion, nothing going on in her head. with galiani it's much less clear, but I wonder if we're supposed to use the earlier instance to help us interpret it—when galiani snidely remarks about how elena has 'married well', are we supposed to interpret this as judgement of her, who held promise, effectively resigning herself to the role of a wife and mother (ironically, exactly the same judgement that lila received)? are we supposed to interpret her favouritism towards lila sincerely, so perhaps we could say she views lila as dynamic, involved in the class struggle, whereas elena has chosen the stasis that comes with the role of being a housewife? (interestingly, later on mariarosa similarly says she can't believe elena stayed with her brother and had children with him, a fairly similar view of elena's choices). this once again opposes oliviero's earlier assessment that lila 'chose' stasis and to remain inside the world of the neighbourhood, whereas elena was able to escape it through education and thus was in motion. so they change places, mirror each other, etc, during various moments in the story.

someone else on this reddit thread said that, to them, galiani's comment about marrying well was actually her being jealous her own daughter (nadia) had not done so, but tbh I think that's a misinterpretation of galiani's cutting intent with that remark. I think she's genuinely expressing disappointment and dissatisfaction with elena in some way.

we obviously can't take lenù's assessment of lila's intentions too seriously without understanding that she is prone to reading competition and jealousy into their relationship due to her longstanding feelings of inferiority in that dynamic. but how do you guys interpret both lila's and galiani's viewpoints and intentions during these moments? was lila sincere? was galiani sincere in her praise of lila or did she only want to hurt elena? really curious to know what people thought of this. also note I haven't finished book 3 but I'm close to doing so.

#my brilliant friend #elena ferrante #what I'm reading #moth.txt

79 notes · View notes

peacefulofskye · 7 months

Text

It’s a bit late, since it took me a bit to see ATSV & then even longer to start seeing posts come across my dash, but apparently people are hating? on Gwen??? And actually excusing Miguel??

I loved how this movie focused more on Gwen and her familial issues. The first one gave us Peter B. Parker needing a son figure to realize that he could commit and be a parent as a B plot. This one gave us Gwen trying to figure out how to cope with rejection from the only remaining part of her support system. And people are hating on her for not getting in touch with Miles???

Her arc in this movie was all about the way that her support system and people she loved either died or turned on her. No wonder that she wouldn’t want to reach out to Miles when the place that accepted her forbid it. Miguel gave her a new support system, which she desperately needed. And Hobie provided both understanding and support, when she really didn’t have anyone else to turn to. Yes, Peter B. was there, but he has Mayday AND MJ to prioritize in addition to being Spiderman. Gwen (understandably) would feel like she was forcefully inserting herself if she asked for help. Whereas Hobie is already anti-system and seems to be the only one to really recognize that Gwen doesn’t just need to focus on “the mission”. Jess was trying to be a good authority figure, but she ultimately prioritized Miguel’s mission over Gwen, since she’d been doing it for years. I do think she saw her role in Gwen’s life as a mentor, she was just so used to following Miguel that it didn’t occur to her to stop. Gwen clearly looks up to Jess and wants her approval, along with Miguel’s, hence her hesitation to break the rules by contacting Miles.

This is a bit more of a rant than a deep analysis, but I can’t believe that people could excuse Miguel clearly taking over someone else’s life but draw the line at Gwen not reaching out for fear of being rejected by one of her only friends.

Side note: I really missed Spidernoir & Spiderham. I want to see all of Soidernoir’s adventures w/ color in the Spidermen HQ

#across the spider verse spoilers #gwen stacy #miles morales #Miguel O’Hara #just the fact that there’s more tags for Miguel #is ridiculous #spiderverse spoilers #miguel spiderverse #hobie spiderverse #peter b parker #skye speaks #sony

60 notes · View notes

steamberrystudio · 9 months

Text

13/08/2023 Devlog

Hallo! It is time for the bi-weekly Tumblr update once again

Summary:

Sprite art finished and imported (all sprites are now in the game)

All CG art completed

50% of CGs coded

The Ramble:

So here is the quick ramble for Gilded Shadows.

I finished all the remaining sprite art and got that imported into the game.

And I finished all the CG art. I have not finished coding the CGs as some of them take a bit longer due to Morgan. So I have a few more of those left to do.

I really did not expect to be finished with the CGs by this point but somehow managed to finish them by the end of Friday without killing my hand.

I've definitely been...uh...feeling it the past couple of days though. Ha ha.

Fortunately the art is done now so my hand will have plenty of time to rest through beta testing!

Upcoming Weeks:

Beta testing!

I have a few more things to wrap up, including coding the rest of the CGs and then Yuu's route will move into the beta testing stage which will last a few weeks; but I'm not sure how long.

So yeah. We're nearly to the final release for Gilded Shadows.

Even after release, I still have some KS related loose ends to tie up but the game is kind of the main thing to complete and we are nearly there.

Anyway, that's all for now on Gilded Shadows. By next update we should be mid-beta testing and I'll probably be working on some of the KS loose ends while waiting for feedback.

When Stars Collide:

For those following updates on this project:

I have received one new background since last time and a new sketch.

I have also done a fair bit of writing but since this is just my side project I've actually been tracking my word count progress a little less meticulously than usual. I don't know how many words it was at my last update so I don't know how much progress I've made since then. LoL!

I have one more short scene for Yren chapter 5 left but I also worked on the new chapter 3, which I had planned out but not started last time. So it looks like I wrote right at 10,000 words based on how long the scenes I know I wrote are. 💪

I also wrote Kav's first actual scene and appearance (well, it's part of the new chapter 3, not a separate scene.)

I've done a few other small things - worked on potentially re-designing the flowchart screens, changed up some character lore for a few characters. Changed a few character name spellings too (there are reasons for this; it wasn't just a whim. LoL)

And a few other minor things.

I also improved my WSC word count spreadsheet.

Keeping a detailed spreadsheet of my progress - including a specific goal system and progress tracker really helps keep me focused so that my forward momentum stays at a steady pace.

I'm not a naturally organised person - in fact, my natural state as a writer is quite chaotic and disorganised. But I have learned during Changeling that chaos does not serve me well in the development process and that I do better if I make myself use organisational tools to stay on track.

I haven't been meticulous with writing spreadsheets for WSC since it has been my side project until now. But as GS wraps up, it will become more of my focus so I want to be sure I have the tools in place to stay focused.

Hence...better spreadsheets. 💪💪

Side note. But did you lens flares are actually required when something is set in space? That is how you know it's sci-fi.

I don't make the rules.

#gilded shadows #otome games #english otome games #when stars collide #amare game #updates #that's a nice flare

70 notes · View notes

perpetualexistence · 22 days

Text

It Takes Three to Tango On a Train: An Alenoaheather Fake Dating AU Song Analysis

Yeah you read that right, I'm back with an Alenoaheather Fake Dating idea WOOO-

Again, coming from the most unlikely of places given that the last one came from a Veggietales song. But don't worry, this one isn't a Veggietales song.

It's a Thomas the Tank Engine instrumental remix that perfectly encapsulates Alenoaheather scheming in this specific AU.

Hear me out. I've got mental imagery for how their dance works.

youtube

I'm not an expert on music theory or recognizing instruments, but I'll try my best with explaining my thought process. And if you do know things about music and want to correct me, please do.

The song as a whole is the theme of a sinister schemer slithering their way along. Which can basically describe the three of them at their worst, but there's more nuance within the song.

It starts with Noah. He's the steady bass throughline of the whole song. He's got the tambourine and the same three bass notes playing over and over again. Throughout the song he's unchanging and unyielding. He does the least amount of work relatively speaking, but still helps to move the song (and the scheming) forward by providing a steady rhythm.

Noah has his own 'dance' as he goes along. He's lazy at heart, but the rhythm is still encouraging him to move. He's nodding his head along to the steady three beats. He snaps each time the tambourine hits. He's standing in place because he refuses to move. The only movement coming out of him is nods and snaps.

Then comes Heather with the wind instrument at 0:15. She immediately comes slithering in to offer Noah the deal of an alliance. She's using a snake charmer's music because she knows it's something that would work on her. She recognizes like, and wants to snap at the opportunity to have him dance to her tune.

Heather's dance is a ballet. It's a dance she's known since she was young based on the canon of season one. It looks elegant and beautiful, and is one of the most difficult dances to learn. It takes a considerable amount of work to do well, and even more to make it look as effortless as Heather makes it. For Noah, she pirouettes inwards. She wants to draw him in, and knows she doesn't have to move too much in order to do it.

Noah's still unchanging in his tune, despite Heather's best efforts. But they're harmonizing, because this is a good deal for both of them.

Then along comes Alejandro with a rival wind instrument at 0:31. (I want to say a pan flute? Again, I can't recognize instruments by sound.) He's offering the same kind of deal as Heather, but in a slightly different flavor. Hence his instrument being in the same family as Heather's. He wants Noah dancing to the beat of his rhythm instead, but Noah remains unyielding.

Alejandro is still convinced that the deal is made, which leads to the introduction of the brass at 0:46. Now that Heather and Alejandro are convinced they have their own alliances with Noah, they can focus on going after each other. The brass is them fighting each other.

The two circle around each other. Not touching, because they know what the other is capable of. Heather continues her ballet. It's a solo act, and other people should be grateful that they can witness it. She uses the same manipulation tactics in every situation. She's not changing for anyone, either. She's performs the pas de chat, the step of the cat, as she moves. It allows her more distance to stalk her prey.

Alejandro's dance is cumbia (stop at 1:46). It's a dance where the dance partners spend more time apart than they do together. The focus is on the footwork, the machinations of planning. The hands are often on the hips or behind their back. The hips are swaying and showing off. It's a dance that allows Alejandro to preen himself while giving Heather a chance to do the same.

Meanwhile Noah is still snapping and nodding. He's outside of their circle, watching them size each other up. He knows that getting in the middle of their fight would be the death of him. So instead, he keeps an eye on where they're heading, and adjusts himself when they get too close or too far.

There's a five note musical sting that starts at 0:51. This represents the people who get caught in their machinations. It happens twice in rapid succession: first when it appears, then immediately after it gets subsumed and muted into the brass that is their fighting.

Anyone else who gets close to them, or who they set their sights on, has to deal with the combined threat they pose. When a person gets close to Noah, he doesn't outright attack them. Rather, he bares his teeth at them, daring them to come too close. His snapping turns to a subtle way for him to use his thumb to point the threat towards Heather and Alejandro to have them deal with it. He knows what he's sending them to, and it's not his problem.

When a contestant is caught in the middle of Alejandro and Heather's dance, they have to deal with whoever decides to approach them first. With Heather, she dances closer and closer to them. Until, suddenly, she performs a grand battement. She turns something elegant into a high kick directly into the face. It sends whoever she wants reeling, if not completely out. When she's done, she simply carries on back to circling with Alejandro.

With Alejandro, he switches from cumbia to merengue. He grabs his victim by the hands and starts twirling them around. He pulls them close to have them let their guard down. He makes them think they're the only one that he cares about. Then, once they trust him, he twirls them away never to be a bother again. He won't hesitate to knock them down with the sway of his hips if he feels it necessary.

Things switch up again at 1:16 with the introduction of strings and castanets. Because at this point, Alejandro and Heather have noticed that Noah has been outside of the circle this time, gaining from the fruits of their labor. So they start dancing around Noah. He's caught in the eye of their storm.

He's expecting them to immediately go for the kill, but neither do. They're dancing around him and they're watching. They are threatening to drown him out, and his instruments do go a bit quieter. But they continue. He keeps his steady pace of nodding and snapping.

He's been watching them, too. He knows he can't beat them in a fight. That doesn't mean he can't survive them. To anyone else, Heather and Alejandro would be a deadly duo. But he knows them now, as they know him.

He waits for the right moment as they circle around him. And then, he spots the gap between their circle. He rushes for it before it can close, and turns so that he never has his back to them. He's part of their circle now.

All the while, the musical sting is still playing. They're still eliminating others. And they're fully realizing how amazing they are together. They create a vortex of death for all who oppose them.

They take a step towards one another to tighten their circle. Then another. Each of them knows what the other two are capable of. They're all enjoying this dance, and all of them can tell. They will get rid of anyone else that gets in their way, but never each other. They don't want this dance to end, and want to get even close to each other.

They step closer and closer until they're almost touching. The music fades as they are eye to eye with one another. Just as Noah started the song, he finishes it off.

And the three start talking about what to do next.

#my brain really just went brrr on this one #fake alenoaheather au #fake dating alenoaheather #fake dating au #alenoaheather #td alenoaheather #total drama alejandro #total drama noah #total drama heather #td alejandro #td noah #td heather #td character analysis #character analysis #total drama au #total drama #alenoaheather fake dating au #song analysis

26 notes · View notes