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ultravioletrayz · 4 months

Note

a request? what about your edging miguel and so you let him cum since he begging it however we continuing to do it? and so what about this but with cumplay ? you know,and he.....like into it,like you playing with he cum, on his body.thigh. abs, idk anywhere and just licking it idk?

so a kinda dom/sub!miguel x fem!reader

yea im crazy for a whiny men whos loves anything we do and espically whimper and beg

you with me girlie?

Yes yes yes, totally with you.

The plot for this was inspired by this ask, btw!!

@ce3stvu tagging my bby girl <3

Pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x dom!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, edging, cumplay, cum eating, dacryphillia if you squint, themes of jealousy

Summary: you remind miguel who he belongs to

A/N: i love dom!migs, but something about imagining that big man all whiny and crying is sooo hot

Word Count: 1K

It’s all that stupid bitch’s fault. The thought is swirling around in Miguel’s head on repeat as his hips pathetically twitch and spasm upwards to try and loosen the grip you have around the blushing tip of his cock. Still, you merely apply more pressure, squeezing his poor head so hard your fingers act as a makeshift cock ring, making it impossible for Miguel to acquire any sense of relief as your other hand fondles his heavy, aching balls with little skill, your only goal being to tease him.

This was a much better way of reminding Miguel of your loyalty to one another than talking it out. Frankly, you didn’t even know how to approach discussing the topic. You were supposed to be Miguel’s angelic, bubbly little girlfriend. You didn’t want to cause a fight over some random spider-woman from work.

Instead, you smile from ear to ear as you watch the beads of tears that cling to Miguel’s gorgeous, thick eyelashes as he sobs and begs to cum, after you’ve denied climax after climax with your possessive grip around the thick circumference of his dick.

There’s no doubt in your mind that other spider-people can hear Miguel’s unapologetic whines from outside his office, and the thought makes your mind a hazy fog of lust and pride. Hopefully, that new girl that Miguel was training, the one that kept running her grubby hands all over his arms and back like you were an idiot and wouldn’t notice her blatant flirting.

You had initially felt guilty when you pulled Miguel away from his sparring session with the girl, leading him to his office with one goal in mind: reiterating that Miguel is yours and yours alone.

But now that he's been forced into becoming this mess of desperation and sticky pre-cum, your worries and shame have vanished. Only your touch can make Miguel feel this way, making him lose all of his self-control and dignity. And he does the same thing to you. Sure, an outsider would probably say all of this jealousy and possessiveness is toxic or overbearing, but you and Miguel can't help but cling to one another. You're each other's soulmates. That new girl could never compare.

"Hah- ah, fuck! M-Mami, por favor… need- ah! need to cum. Please, please l-lemme cum-!" Miguel begs, his tear-stained cheek squished against the smooth material of your spider suit that conceals your tits, but the warmth of his face seeps through the fabric, his breath causing your nipples to perk up at the subtle contact as you lean over him and giggle.

You keep your fingers squeezed around his tip, rubbing his swollen head in circular motions as your other hand cups his balls in the comfort of your palm. The tension around Miguel’s tip is almost torturous, making him curse and thrash around in his office chair as he desperately attempts to make your hand slip even slightly so that his dick can breathe again.

The thick, chocolate-brown hair that adorns the tan flesh from his belly button down to his base caresses your forearm each time Miguel fails to push through the restraint of your fist and thrust into your closed hand.

You feel bad for taking your insecurities out on your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend, who was just trying to be a good boss and do his job, so you decide to give him a break.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, guapo?" You coo teasingly, releasing the pressure around the leaky head of Miguel's cock and instead starting to pump his shaft, your pace fast and sloppy as you make up for the time spent prohibiting Miguel from having any kind of release.

Miguel's climax hits him like a freight train, his back arching drastically and his claws digging into his seat as his rock-hard cock spurts bucket loads of cum up into the air, the gooey strands of his devotion to you hitting his toned abs and coating the hair on his thighs and stomach, creating a pooling mess of semen, sweat, and tears as he slumps back in his chair and splutters.

You watch with wide eyes as Miguel's cum decorates his tan skin, like an abstract painting of your composition. And you couldn't be more proud of yourself. In a hypnotised state of desire and devotion, you scramble to your knees in between Miguel's spread thighs.

With a smile on your face, you lick a fat, sloppy stripe from Miguel's pelvis up to his juicy pecs, gathering his cum on your flat tongue and swallowing. He tastes divine.

No other bitch would treat him like this, using her hands and mouth to worship him like you do. You lap up every thick glob of shimmering cum from Miguel's panting body, not even able to savour it due to your desperation to taste all of him.

"You taste so good, Mig." You moan, eyes fluttering at the salty, decadent flavour of Miguel's cum flooding your senses. Your hand keeps pumping him slowly, milking every last drop of his delicious cum from his cock as you worship his body and devour his essence as it glistens on his stomach and thighs.

Your free hand scoops up some of his mess to watch how the strings make your fingers stick together, before shoving your digits in your mouth and sucking the cum off your fingers.

Miguel chuckles and moans at the sight of his pretty girl so desperate to please him, all to ensure his loyalty. The fact that you're more willing to drag your wet tongue up and down his cum-covered, shivering body than have a conversation about your feelings is a little odd, but Miguel's not complaining. It's sweet to see how much you love him, and how much you hate that new bitch for thinking she stands a chance against you.

Miguel holds your chin in his hands and stops you from feasting on any more of his cum, directing your gorgeous face upwards so that you're staring into his eyes. You rest your tacky hands on his thighs, making him tremble ever so slightly at the way your skin sticks to his, binding the two of you together.

Breathlessly, Miguel whispers to you, his girl, his one and only, the love of his life, with a crooked smile on his sweaty, fucked-out face.

"Sólo para ti, hermosa."

sick and tired of miguel being depicted as the “jealous and possessive” one in the relationship. If I had a man like that, I’d be just as crazy

#ultravioletrayz #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man 2099 x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you

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churipu · 4 months

Text

( OO2 ) ★ dude (romantically) , gojo satoru

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing, 2006 highschool era, one sided enemies to lovers (alias u hate him bcs of "reasons", and u think he hates him too), gojo being such a fucking tease i love hate him so much, a lot of cringe and weird pet names from gojo bcs he's kind of a little shit, you being mean to him and you make him sad (but you'll make up dwdw, i don't need angst rn), um...kissing (yhyh u guys kissed, so what >:() // wc: 4.0k

ENTRY ( OO2 ) OF THE "INTO THE IPINVERSE" MILESTONE

"i hate you." "say that again?"

tags: @sad-darksoul, @sweeneyblue1, @idkuluka, @colorful-happy-shit

there are a lot of moments that you hate in life, but with all due respect, meeting gojo satoru has got to be at the top of your fucking list.

white hair, blue eyes deeper than the ocean. god, why does he have to be so pretty? why couldn't he be born with no hair and no eyes at all? because that, that would make it easier to hate him completely — yes, you're implying that he's physically attractive.

"hey, apple pie," gojo sings out, slinging an arm over your shoulder, "i missed you."

you pushed him away harshly, "don't call me that, gojo. and i don't fucking miss you," a strained whine escaped his throat as he feel the distance in between you both widen at your push.

"come on, sugar bear."

"jesus christ, stop calling me those fucking nicknames." you seethe out at him, standing up to walk away — escaping this hell, escaping gojo satoru and whatever tricks he had up in his sleeve.

"i know you like them," gojo sings out, skipping to catch up with you. shoving both of his hands inside his pockets, "come on, annoyed acrylic nail."

you stopped for a bit, amazed at the nickname. so amazed that you almost actually pulled out a laugh card at him — god, he's insufferable, "what the fuck was that nickname?"

"you kiss your mother with that mouth?" gojo asks, leaning down a bit to put his ugly face up close to yours. frankly, it's frustrating because he's an absolute beauty, what a prick.

"my mother's dead."

gojo widened his eyes a tad bit, "my god — pumpkin, it was just a saying." he sighs, scratching his nape awkwardly, "sorry for your loss."

you rolled your eyes, continuing your aimless walk. the sole point of this walk was to avoid the male, yet here he was, walking alongside you. silently. as you turned corners after corners, he trailed behind you, turning the same corners after corners.

"can you," i look at him, "leave me alone? why the hell are you following me?"

gojo shrugs, "no reason. can't i do that now?" you shook your head, "and why not?"

"this is — stalking. an act of following me around, i feel intimidated. do you want me to file a report, huh? huh?" gojo chuckles at your ramble, finding you quite adorable; in his eyes, you were like this small creature, trying to be intimidating.

"definitely not." he chuckled, "come on, chatterbox. you should let me take you out sometimes, what d'ya' think? sounds good?"

"no. just — don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't even breathe the same air as i am," you muttered out, flipping your middle finger at the male out of annoyance making him guffaw.

his slender fingers grabbed your hand, pushing it down gently, "are you implying that i should die?" his voice came out cheeky and teasing.

"yes."

he rolled his eyes, "you're gonna miss me when i do actually die, bet you'll cry and say y'miss me." the male laid his hand on top of your head — patting it lightly, "come on, bonbon. let me take you out, for food, for smoothies, for desserts. anything you want, i'll give it to you."

you heaved out a sigh, "gojo, no — just, no. and leave me alone."

the male eyes you, "you hang out just fine with suguru. all sunshine and rainbows, why d' you not give me the same treatment, huh?" he questions, almost offended at the thought of both you and suguru laughing and joking in front of him.

"'cause you're not him, obviously."

gojo furrowed his brows, expression filled with frustration, "what does that even mean? what's so different about suguru and i? he's a good guy, but 'm a good guy too. right?" he asks, voice low and meek.

"just — shut up, alright? leave me alone."

this time, the male complied; refusing to trail your figure as you disappeared around the corner. his eyes following you until you were gone, chewing on his lip in annoyance.

he didn't understand you, in his eyes you were like a lost cause. and it perturbed him, his peace, his life. the male is dying to know whatever the hell he'd done wrong to make you hate him so much, whether it being his constant nickname for you or was it because of the fact that he's always there to make fun of you?

gojo wouldn't be this bothered if you were like this to everyone. however — the fact is that you're only like this to him. and why? he didn't know.

and he hates it.

very helpful google.

the teen boy threw his head back, sighing out loudly — a few hours since that conversation with you and he still hasn't been able to get you out of his mind.

"what'cha doing?" a shadow peered over him, the white haired male fluttered his eyes open slowly; the afternoon sun gracing his face as he tries to make out who the person above him was.

"nothing," he muffled out, looking to the side — geto chuckled, jumping over the male's head before taking a seat next to him, "did you just jump over my head?"

"mhm," geto hums, "so? is it about y/n?"

gojo looks at his friend, "was it that obvious?" geto chuckled, nodding his head mutely, "try to think about it — as far as we've known each other, what the hell have i ever done wrong to them? i'm so lost."

"who knows? maybe they like you."

gojo rolled his eyes, "who in their right mind, would act like that to the person they like? that's just stupid." geto chuckled.

"people like y/n obviously."

the white haired male huffs out in defeat, "is it because of the weird nicknames? in my opinion, they're really cute. i mean — pumpkin, sugar bear, apple pie? you'd like to call your partner that too, right?" he babbles out, still in trance, wondering what he ever did wrong to you.

geto spared a glance at his friend, "no, that's stupid. it's pretty cringe," he honestly informed.

gojo's jaw tightened in response as he stared at his friend in betrayal, his lips parted as he wanted to deliver something — but the blue eyed male slowly shuts his mouth, pondering for a bit before delivering his comment, "okay, you're partly right. but i enjoy calling them that. they're cute, and my nicknames are cute." he pouted, his glasses slipping down a bit.

"annoyed acrylic nail? really? you can do better than that, satoru."

gojo's head snapped towards geto, "how'd you know about that one?" he narrowed his eyes.

"y/n, who else?"

"traitor. and mind you, i got that from a quiz i was playing on the internet."

geto tittered out in pure amusement, "they were just telling me about what happened," he explained, "and boy, was it interesting to say the least."

"what'd they say about me?" gojo asks, his voice soft. almost scared to question his friend, scared to hear about how you'd describe him — despite being this, "calm", "coolheaded" man he portrays, when it comes to you, it felt like judgement day.

"oh, nothing much," geto uttered out calmly, "how they can't stand you sometimes and how you maunder out the oddest nicknames on earth — oh, and how they find you physically attractive." geto finds himself whispering the last part.

geto was one to say the truth about these kind of things. except, he's now being a little cupid, alias . . . you never told geto that gojo is physically attractive. but the first two comments were the absolute truth.

"they did?" how cute.

geto nods his head mutely, "maybe you should go meet them, they were pretty intent on describing you as quote unquote, the most attractive boy they have ever met," the lie rolled over his tongue smoothly that gojo couldn't help but to grin widely.

"tell me about it, suguru. please, please?"

geto was most delighted to do so. the male enjoying this banter more than anything — if he wanted one result, it was to get you and gojo together. frankly, he finds it quite the mediocrity that you and gojo aren't in an established relationship as of now.

"they were saying how you have these pretty blue eyes that they'd love to look at every hour," geto started, "and how they actually don't mind some of your nicknames — like, sugar bear. they find it endearing."

little bastard. gojo was smiling like a fool right now, his long legs crossed happily as he sighed out in content, "i fucking knew it."

"well, what're you waiting for?"

gojo hops up, peering down at geto who was still seated, "i owe you one, suguru," geto chuckled, shaking his head.

oh, he owed me more than one. geto thinks to himself, waving his friend goodbye.

"hey, sugar bear." gojo confidently approached you, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk on his face, "i missed you."

groaning out in response, you covered your ears with the palm of your hands; not wanting to engage in the conversation right as it started. gojo chuckles softly, circling his fingers around your wrists, pulling them away from your ears, "come on, why're you always so mean to me?"

"you get on my fucking nerves. asswipe." you muttered out, pulling your wrists away, "and don't touch me."

gojo winced, "ouch. so, heard from someone that you called me attractive, huh?" his eyebrows danced up and down in delight, as if he was mocking you.

you arched your brow in confusion, because for all you know. one, you never said that to anyone. two, even if you did find him attractive, you didn't remember ever telling that to just anyone — hell, you don't remember telling anyone about it either.

"excuse you?" gojo gave you a lop-sided grin.

"so? why're you keeping up with the attitude?" he whispers out, shaking his head.

"gojo, what the fuck? who did you hear that from?" you interrogated the male, one of your hand resting on your hips, "whoever the fuck gave you that information is making shit up — no, i don't find you attractive."

the male rolled his eyes at your stubborn demeanor. well, you weren't particularly stubborn; you were partly framed at this point since you don't remember ever saying that to anyone.

"come on, why'd you have to lie to me? it's not like 'm gonna be angry or anything," you sent a sharp glare at him, because he is wrong for saying that — you made it clear you never expressed that forbidden thought to anyone. so why was he saying this to you?

"gojo—"

"why do you call suguru by his first name but me by my surname?" gojo cuts you off.

"gojo, listen—"

before you could say anything else, the male confidently hushes you down, yet again cutting your words off. and if there's anything else you hated more than gojo satoru, it's being interrupted while you were talking.

"gojo, respectfully, shut the fuck up." you scowled at him, and that indeed managed to shut him up almost immediately — the glare you had in your eyes signifying that you were actually serious. gojo can't help but to swallow the non-existent lump in his throat at the sight.

"i never said anything about you being attractive, and whoever the fuck said that to you is a pathological liar. this is getting tiring," you slowly, and calmly tell him. way too calmly for his liking, "you're bothering me. so with all due respect, can you like . . . maybe, leave me the fuck alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. it's fucking annoying."

gojo was silent. he was clueless of how to react, a part of him wanted to get angry, he has so much questions to ask you. but another part of him just wanted to lay down low and walk away. and gojo went after the latter.

his stomach churned as he processed your words silently, his smile dropping, and his gaze softened. the male inhaled sharply before nodding his head, "okay, sorry."

and he turned his heels, slowly walking away out of your sight — you stared at his back, watching him walk further and further.

letting a string of curses escape your lips, you felt the urge to reach out to the male. call out to his name. say you were sorry and how you didn't mean that — god, sometimes you think it was you that should respectfully shut the fuck up.

" . . . goj—" you shook your head, deciding to just stay silent for now. for now.

this wasn't the first time you've told him off; and he always comes back the next day, so gojo would probably be the same old him tomorrow, right?

wrong.

gojo was dead set on what he was doing, avoiding you. and damn, he was pretty good at it — that it pisses you off. because why isn't he calling you those weird nicknames? why isn't he trailing after you anymore? why isn't he talking to you? why isn't he batting an eyelash at you? one week and still going strong.

"heartbreak problems?" geto appears beside you, taking a seat next to you, whistling out loudly, "over satoru? that's a first."

you wanted to retort back to the male, but honestly, there isn't any point to it. so you actually bobbed your head, "guess so," you muttered out lowly, balling your fists.

"what happened?"

his question made you side eye him, you were pretty sure gojo would've told him by now — after all, they're quite the pair at school. so this was an honest surprise, "shit happened. i said things that i obviously didn't mean, and now i'm suffering the consequences of my own actions, fairly enough, it fucking sucks."

"so, you're openly admitting to me that you do like him?" geto questioned softly, his eyes traveling to the ceiling of the classroom, "satoru? the one you shit-talk about every single day?"

you grunted, "jus' because i shit-talk him. doesn't mean i hate him," geto blinked feverishly before laughing out, "the hell are you laughing at, asswipe?"

"i told him you found him attractive. but i guess things didn't go as i expected," geto spouts out the truth, his laugh dying down slowly into a small smile, "what did'ya say to him?"

"thought you'd know by now, and that was you? fuck." you murmur out, "i told him to leave me alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. i said it was annoying— that he was annoying."

geto hums out, "why're you always so angry towards him anyways?"

good question. why?

"that's . . . none of your concern, suguru." you ended up shutting down his question, chewing your lips in pure annoyance.

the male raises his hands up, "right. it's not mine — but it is satoru's, you should talk to him," he advices, "he's been miserable, trust me."

"he looks like he's doing fine, and doesn't he like . . . hate me?" geto raises a brow in disbelief, wondering if you were just plain dumb or too oblivious — or both. the male shakes his head, "oh. i thought he would by now."

"y'think he would do all that thing to you when he hates you?"

"well, it's him so it wouldn't be surprising. really." you chuckled out hoarsely, "and are you really giving me advice right now? because i can't fucking believe i'm actually getting an advice from you out of all people."

"that offended me." he smiled.

"well, sorry. i've never taken you for the advice giver type of person, so? is it really my fault?" you questioned, making the male roll his eyes in response.

"you have a man to chase, why are you still talking to me?"

right. you did, "bye suguru, i owe you one."

geto sighs out, remembering the same words that gojo had said to him a week before — and how the tables have turned. he was thoroughly enjoying this all.

"gojo."

the male stopped when heard your voice. your sweet, loving voice. oh how he missed it — your voice, your glare, you. finally sparing his first glance at you after a week.

it was hard. he's miserable. he wanted to approach you, he wanted to call you the nicknames he'd searched on google before morning comes, he wanted to talk to you even if it ended up on you scolding him with very nice words, he wanted to see you. gojo just wanted to see you.

the white haired male has never felt so miserable in his life. this was the farthest he has ever been from you, and it was honestly killing him inside.

"what?" he asks, wondering if he had done yet again, something to make you approach him first like such. because one thing he was confident in is that, you, y/n l/n, would never approach him for anything besides missions or . . . anger, "what did i do wrong this time? i didn't talk to you like you told me to. so?"

"you're fucking unbearable." you muttered out, fists balling tightly — very much angry at him, and at yourself.

gojo raises a brow, "i'm unbearable? what makes you think you can come up to me and tell me that?" he asks you, his voice soft, and a ghast of his blue eyes reflecting behind the dark lenses of his glasses.

"god, i hate you so much."

no, no, no. it wasn't supposed to go this way, you weren't supposed to say that you hated him — and the way gojo furrowed his brows at your statement made your heart drop. why couldn't you just mutter out the word "sorry" and everything would be back to normal.

when people tell you that, "sorry", "thank you", and "please" are the hardest words to say. you didn't take it literally — but now that you were in a position to say one of them, you could finally agree on it. why was it so hard to mutter out a five letter word?

"okay, you made it clear last week. what else do y'want me to say?" he muffled out lightly.

"i hate you." you repeated, "so fucking much."

gojo shakes his head, prompting to ignore you. he turned his heels and began to step away from you. he didn't need anymore hurtful words from you; from someone he deeply has feelings for, "don't fucking walk away," he heard you speak.

"don't . . . walk away." your voice dropped down a tone, "please."

the male hesitated, but he stopped walking in the end. gojo had only stepped away a few times and he couldn't fucking stand it, the way you called out to him — lord, if this hasn't been so serious. he swore he would be running to you right now, how he wanted to have you in his arms right now, even if it ended up with you pushing him away. he would take the chance.

it was better than having to ignore you like this.

"what?" he breathes out again, this time a little curious to what you had to say.

you blinked, parting your lips to say something, but nothing would come out. a few seconds passed, and your lips are still parted. and you were starting to grow desperate, desperate to say something — anything at this point. anything to make the male stay, to stop him from walking away.

"y/n . . . i don't have time for this." he mutters out, trying to keep his act up, even if he was fighting back the urge to just drop everything and run to you.

"no, wait. gojo— satoru." it took one specific word to roll over your tongue, and his heart was racing rapidly. his cerulean eyes intently looking at you from behind the dark lenses, "please, i . . . i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, so please don't walk away from me. don't do that again."

gojo felt his heart began to pound. the male stood there, his breathing growing rapid, "i didn't mean what i said to you — it was my fault. i'm fucking miserable, satoru. i don't know what to do," you tell him, voice lacing in desperateness, "i fucking hate you for this. i swear to god, it's disgusting . . . the feelings. i've never felt like this before and i hate it. i think about you all damn time, i hate you because why the fuck am i feeling like this? i can't stop, satoru."

the male parted his lips to respond, but you cut him off, continuing your words. groggily fiddling with your uniform, brows furrowed, eyes glassy, you continued, "so don't fucking walk away from me. don't fucking ignore me, please."

it took gojo no time to stride over to you, "fuck. do you know how fucking miserable i was for one. whole. week? do you think i wanted to ignore you? to not look at you?" his large hands cupped both side of your face, "i was fucking miserable, y/n. i just wanted you to know how much i fucking missed you. one day," he raises up a finger, "one day felt like a whole year, i can't stand it much longer. so, please — don't push me away anymore."

you look up at him, lips slightly parted, "i hate you."

gojo tilted your face up to him, "say that again?"

his fingers traveled down, brushing the skin of your neck vividly. even with his glasses on, you could see his eyes perfectly — and how they gleamed brightly. gojo smiles lightly, using his other hand to grab your right hand, placing your palm on top of his chest. where his heart was. the constant rapid thuds that you could feel against his chest made your heart flutter.

"god, i fucking love you," he breathes out, drawing your face towards his, his lips inclining towards yours — and your mouths fell together, a few seconds passed and gojo pulled back slightly, his lips parted, "i fucking love you, y/n," he whispers softly, capturing your lips into another kiss.

the hand you had on his chest lightly crumpled against his uniform, holding the male in place as you yearned more of the taste of his lips. it was vague, but you could taste strawberries — and . . . cream cheese. pulling away, you stared at him, "dude."

gojo arches a brow, etching your fingers off of his uniform. lacing them together with his — like a perfect puzzle piece, it was like his hand was meant for yours, and yours for his, "what did you say?"

clearing your throat, you said, "dude, but romantically."

the male chuckles, "you ruined our kiss and our moment, for that?" he pressed a kiss onto the tip of your nose, maintaining eye contact, "d'you know how long i've been wanting to do that? to kiss you?"

you shook your head, "no, but did you eat something with strawberries? and cream cheese? i could taste it."

gojo blinks, "oh, yeah. i had some daifuku," he replies, scratching his nape sheepishly, "why did you have to bring that up now, couldn't it wait until later?"

"dude." he looks at you in disbelief.

"but romantically, again." you added, and gojo smiles, "i can't help it — i don't know what to say."

"i do," he pressed a kiss into the hollow of your forehead, "date me. i promise i'll treat you well. i won't call you those nicknames anymore, just — i just need you to be close to me."

"what if i said no?"

"after that kiss?" he pulls away from you.

"kidding, dude."

the male whines, "stop calling me dude," he said, "can't you call me something else? baby? honey? darling? cutie? handsome? none of that?" he asks out.

"dude is pretty romantic." you rolled your eyes, "do you ever hear me calling anyone else with dude?"

he shook his head, "you never call anyone with a nickname anyways." gojo grumbled under his breath, looking away, "fine, what do you prefer? i don't do well with — nicknames."

"i like the sound of baby, or handsome. i am handsome, right? right?" you rolled your eyes, but gave out a subtle nod, "i knew it, you did find me attractive after all."

"shut up or i'm sticking with dude."

"no," he brushes his lips against your cheek, "i'm baby now. and you — you're sugar bear, pumpkin, apple pie, annoyed acrylic nail, and more to come."

"didn't you say you won't call me those nicknames anymore?" you questioned him with a light smile.

"uh . . . no, you heard wrong."

"okay, dude." you chuckled.

"y/n!" he whines.

#𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #satoru #1K MILESTONE #1K MILESTONE EVENT #gojo #i love him so much im gonna cry #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader

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sameschmidtdiffname · 4 months

Text

Sweet Delights

Peeta Mellark x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a slow work day in District 12. With rain pouring down outside, who can blame you for wanting to indulge a little? Everything's fine so long as no one walks in... right?

Tags: Pre-established relationship, no use of y/n, pet names, reader has AFAB body/female pronouns, switch!Peeta, switch!Reader, edging, female fingering, teasing, count down, orgasm denial, blow job, face fucking, public sex, someone walks in, dirty talk, Peeta's a freak but he's sweet about it, praise kink if you squint, mentions of eating out, cum swallowing, cursing, post-Mockingjay but that's not really relevant, no reader orgasm this time around. Once again, I'm probably forgetting something.

Notes: I have to say, I did not expect Peeta to win the poll! And not to worry for everyone else, I'll get to all those characters eventually. (Derek girlies, I see you and I love you.) Thank you for your support on the last one, I hope you like this one too! Bon ABBA teeth.

•°《▪︎♡▪︎》°•

Peeta loves surprises.

Giving them, receiving them. If it's unexpected, Peeta is practically bouncing off his chair to figure out what to do with it.

It made everyday life sweeter. Slipping a note into his apron pocket when he wasn't looking for him to discover, finding a million more hidden in my apron. Little drawings hidden amongst everyday things, like the wildflowes Peeta likes to draw and place next to my powders and perfumes. But best of all surprises were the little pastries we would make when the days were slow and the other was watching the front of the bakery. Usually using scraps, because Peeta detests wasting food, but always delicious nonetheless.

The best innocent surprise, I should say.

Today was an especially slow day. Rain pounding down in District 12, making the roads thick with mud. It's a blessing for the hot ovens that fight against the cold seeping through the front windows. Although they're helping me more than Peeta, who's up front perched at the counter, insistent as always that someone needs to be watching the shop. "We won't hear the bell over the rain," he'd said.

I knew better than that. There were tells when Peeta wanted a surprise. He'd never just ask for something, always fearing rejection. Of course the minute I opened my mouth he was ready to do whatever I had even intrusively dreamed of so long as it meant love and praise. But to ask for himself? It's a whole different matter. So when he is insistent I work alone in the back, I understand that this is his own silent way of asking for some sort of surprise. And with the way his broad shoulders look in that pale yellow knit sweater, who am I to deny him?

I'm not one to deny him anything, quite frankly.

The best surprises of all are when we sneak up behind the other, always starting so innocently. Maybe while one of us is baking, maybe while one of us is simply dressing. With the quick slip of a hand, it doesn't take long before the other is panting and begging for release. Not that we always give it to each other.

Peeta liked sneaking up on me in private. Usually when I was in the back baking.

"What are you working on?" He'd usually ask.

"Custom order," I may answer with a smile. He liked my smiles, always said so.

"What are the details?" He'd ask. He'd put his hands on my lower back, rubbing soft enough to not disturb me while still working out some knots.

Then I'd prattle off details. This one is for so-and-so down on whatever-street-or-corner, they'd like a cake.

"For the Harvest Festival?" He'd ask. I'd nod, still focused on my task. "How many orders do we have for the Festival?"

"A good bit, it's our busiest time," I'd always say with a bright, soft tone to my voice. He'd chuckle, placing a small kiss on the back of my neck and pressing his hips against mine from behind, usually revealing his hard on.

"So, how many orders this year?" He'd ask. His hands would work at a knot, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips would roll ever so slowly against mine, taking his time to build both of us up.

"Ah, I think- I think 12?" I'd say, trying to focus on both him and whatever I was making. Cake. Right. Stir.

"12?" He'd ask. His cock would be deliciously hard, grinding against my clothed cunt just a bit harder as his hands would return to my hips, steadying me against him. "That's pretty good."

"Double digits," I'd say brightly, my voice breathy as I struggle more to focus. Cake. Stir. Hands, not hips.

But I'd always do hips instead, leaning back and tilting my head ever so slightly so he can see my enjoyment.

"You need to stir," Peeta would gently guide in my ear. My back would press against his front, his chin now resting on my shoulder.

"I know," I'd say softly. I didn't know shit.

He'd chuckle, one hand slipping to my front to cup one of my breasts.

"Need to get those orders out," he'd remind me. "You always seem so stressed about being on time."

"One of us has to be," I'd say. His hand on my hip would find the band of my pants, slipping past them and teasing me, sliding his fingers against my wet folds.

"Pick up the whisk," he'd instruct. My hands would shake as they obeyed, moving from being splayed across the marble counter to resume my task.

"Stir slowly," he'd say. His large fingers would slip over my entrance, coating himself in the thick lube now dripping from me. "You want to make sure the texture's correct."

It took such mental energy to balance the two things. Especially when he would finally sink in his middle finger, always going knuckle deep and twirling it around inside of me, making sure to leave no spot untouched. His other hand would pinch and pull at my breast, giving special care to make his fingers replicate the feeling of his soft lips wrapped around my sensitive nipples.

"What's the next order?" He'd ask. I could feel myself dripping down his hand, and I knew he loved this. Peeta would do whatever he could to make sure I was wet, even when he wouldn't go any further than simple teasing. I think he liked the idea of me always being ready. Not that he would assume. He always started out slow, and if I ever said no it was never a big deal. He'd simply continue talking to me and go on with his day perfectly fine. But if I was willing, he'd always massage or do whatever until he could feel my arousal himself. I think it's why he likes eating out best. Especially when I'd talk him through it, usually promising to cum down his throat while tugging his soft blond hair. His eyes would grow wide and soft at that, his whimpers increasing as he'd fuck me quicker with his tongue, grinding himself against whatever. It was a beautiful mess he'd turn himself into, desperate and begging silently as he clutched my hips.

"The what?" I'd ask breathlessly. I was tight around him, focused on how slow and sweet he was pumping in and out, twirling and wiggling his finger inside of me. His other hand slipping under my shirt, and his lips sucking gently at my neck, careful not to leave bruises.

"The orders, sweetheart," he'd gently remind me. "What's the next one?"

My lips would part, eyes fluttering shut as I tried to remember. His middle finger would pump out and then pump back in with the addition of his pointer finger, tearing a soft moan from my throat.

"Shh," he'd gently whisper. "We're at work."

He liked this little game. Ramping me up, forcing me to behave a certain way so to not tip off customers. If Peeta wouldn't immediately be arrested for it, something tells me he'd simply fuck me in the front room, bent over the register counter during business hours and just act like it's a normal thing. Such a sweet boy.

"I- ah- need to look at the book," I'd say. He'd roll my nipple between his two fingers, his other two fingers pumping slightly faster as his lips suck at the spot just under my ear.

"You have such a good memory though," he'd say. "You can remember. Just think."

That's a lie. I have a horrible memory and we both know it. But if I say I can't, he'll pull away. Sweet and gentle, he'll go get the book and place a million kisses on my cheek before leaving me to my work and dizziness.

Next order. Next order. That's easy. It's a tart with cream on top. Cream. God, I'd like his cock in my mouth right now.

"Next order. Come on, pretty girl. I know you know it," he'd softly encourage.

"I know it," I'd moan, my head tilted back and resting on his shoulder, fucking his fingers instead of working on the cake. He feels so good, so warm and protecting. Simply smelling the traces of dill and cinnamon baked into his skin made my mind shut off, my eyes growing tired from the feeling of safety.

"I know you know it," he'd say so sweetly. "You're smart, pretty. And you've got a delicious cunt I'd love to fuck over and over if I could," he'd say softly, placing warm kisses on my neck between each point. I was panting openly now, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried desperately to remember who ordered what.

His fingers curled inside of me, making rapid 'come hither' motions fast enough to steal a soft, sudden cry fron my lips. Peetas mouth found mine, swallowing my moans and giving me some of his own.

"I may have to count down, sweet girl," he'd warn me. His fingers had found my g spot, hitting and rubbing it at rapid speed. The cuff of his sweater is soaked from me, his hand sticky and coated. I shake my head quickly, moaning and gripping the counter as best I could to keep myself standing.

"I can remember," I whimpered. Peeta laughed softly.

"I know you can, sweet girl. But look at you, you're a total mess." His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes taking in my current state. "I can't have you all dumb back here during work hours."

He's sweet but he's cruel. God, he's cruel!

"I think there's berries in it," I stammered.

"Ten," he's start patiently, his teeth tugging at my earlobe.

"N-no, wait! There's- There's berries and there's..." I'm completely making this up. I have no clue what's next.

"Nine," he continued, knowing this.

"That's not fair, you started low on purpose!" I whined.

"Eight." He wouldn't argue. I was right.

"It's got- got cottage cheese frosting." I'm so close, so awfully close. I can feel myself clenching around him rapidly, my pussy swallowing his fingers quicker and quicker as I climbed closer towards the edge.

"Seven." Oh, God. This motherfucker.

"Six. Come on, good girl. You can do this," he'd encourage sweetly, kissing my cheek and trailing to my collarbone with said kisses.

"They wanted flowers on the top. Violets, I remember that!" That detail is actually true, surprisingly. The candy violets were always easy to remember because I loved them so much.

"Five." His other hand kneeded my breast, admiring the soft flesh and running his thumb over my stiff, aching nipple repeatedly. "Four."

"You're speeding up," I whined. "This isn't fair."

He let out a soft 'aw,' apologizing and speeding his hands to bring me closer to the edge.

"If you can come before one, I'll fuck you right here," he promised. "You can come before one, can't you?"

I nodded stupidly, moaning and panting as I sped up my hips, slamming down on his hand repeatedly. Cake details be damned, this is my mission now.

"Three." I'm so impossibly close.

"Two."

"Wait a minute, slow down-"

"One."

With one final, cruel, hard thrust of his hand he slips away, leaving me to almost crumple to the ground and opening my eyes to blink stupidly, trying to process what just happened.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dry hand cupping my cheek and looking at me carefully with his sweet, hazel eyes.

A long, soft whine escaped me, batting my lashes as I lean against him and whisper as many 'please's as I can, pressing a dozen kisses all over him. He laughed softly, returning the kisses with whispered 'I love you's.

"Let me go get that book," he'd said. And that was that until that evening when he made up for it like he always did.

Now I was carefully removing a tiny apple pie made from leftovers meant specifically for Peeta. The rain was as bad as ever as I entered the front room, Peeta leaning on the palm of his hand while he struggled not to doze off. His long lashes flutter softly, his lips pressing against each other and his jaw a bit tight.

"Hi sleepyhead," I whisper, sneaking up behind him. He started a little, turning to look at me with the sweetest smile he has.

"Hi," he says cheerily, his voice just a touch gravely. His eyes glance down to the small treat in my hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is that for me?"

"Of course it is," I say, placing it in front of him. "Figured you could use something to warm you up. It's freezing up here."

He chuckles. "It's not that cold," he says as he picks up the fork I'd placed next to the tiny pie and began scooping some up.

"Liar," I teased. "You're shivering."

He shifts in his seat slightly. "Not from that," he says, a small blush growing on his cheeks. He takes the first bite, then another, smiling and leaning his head against my shoulder.

"Thank you, dear," he says softly. He leans in for a kiss to which I happily oblige, cupping his jaw with my left hand. His lips taste sweet, the sticky apple and cinnamon tasting delicious on him. I swipe my tongue across his lips, stealing a soft moan from him as he allows my tongue access to his mouth, melting in my hands. His hand dropped the fork, accidently missing the pan and instead hitting the counter, but neither of us care. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to silently ask me for more.

My other hand trails down to his lap, finding one of his hands already there, palming his stiff, clothed cock through his pants.

"Is this what you were doing when I came up?" I ask softly, pulling away from the kiss only a bit. He chases me, biting at my bottom lip to drag me back to him. That's a yes, then.

My tongue explores his warm mouth, tasting him while my hand traces the outline of his dick, pressing and flicking against the tip. He whines, bucking softly into my hand, desperate for more.

"Can you stay quiet?" I ask him, pulling away again. This time my hand on the back of his neck grabs his golden locks, holding him still as I look into his eyes. His cheeks are red as well as his lips, kiss swollen and damp. His breathing is heavy, his eyes blown out. Barely touched and already a beautiful mess.

"Huh?" He asks, his voice higher than usual as he tries to focus. His hand grasping my wrist, making sure to keep my hand where he can buck against it.

"If I asked you to, would you stay quiet?" I repeat gently, teasing him with kisses by leaning forward and pulling away. We both liked this.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Anything."

"Anything?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Anything."

Alright.

I press a quick, admittedly sloppy kiss to his lips once more before dropping to my knees and slipping under the counter. His brows furrow in confusion before he realizes what I'm doing.

"You can't!" He whispers frantically. "What if someone walks in?"

"That's why I asked if you could stay quiet," I say patiently. "Can you?"

He bites his lip, obviously unsure. His eyes dart between me and the shop door, thinking.

"We can wait," I offer genuinely. This seems to be the deciding factor.

"I'll be quiet," he promises eagerly. "I've got a pie I can shove in my mouth if I can't, right?" He jokes, his smile crooked and eager as his hands work quickly to begin freeing himself. He's excited alright.

"Right," I say, taking his hands away and undoing the buttons on his pants myself. "Just keep watch of the shop, alright sweet boy?" He nods, placing his arms on the counter and trying to resume his position.

I slip his cock from the confines of his clothes, pressing a soft wet kiss to the underside along a thick vein. A quiet whine escapes him, his hand covering his mouth. I'm not truly worried about him being quiet, no one is going to come in here during such bad weather. It's just an edge to help work him into a frenzy, knowing full well he never stays quiet. I'd thought I was vocal when we started our relationship, but Peeta easily takes the cake.

His cock is warm, half hard against my lips that trail his veins. My tongue slides from his tip to his base, barely any pressure on his skin. Grazing always works best to start out with. When I reach his base I lap at his skin, blowing soft, cold air against the wet spots to make him squirm in his chair. I focus on his base for a while, sucking, licking, blowing. Ever so gently I even bite just the tiniest bit, enough for him to notice the edges of my teeth along his red, pulsing cock. His voice is soft, panting quietly.

My tongue trails slowly up his cock, exploring different ridges and spots that make him whimper quietly, working my way back to his tip which is soaked with thick, warm precum. I wrap my lips around him, swiping the moisture away with my tongue in one round sweep. I relish in the cry it tears from his throat, the dozen little apologies he whimpers immediately after. His hand covers his mouth, and the other trails down to gently cup the back of my head. I smile around him, swirling my spit around his tip as I suck gently, pressing my tongue against the underside of his dick.

His fingers play with my hair, unintentionally tugging it and apologizing as he does. I simply squeeze his thighs and begin lowering myself, taking him until his tip hits the back of my throat, taking deep, even breaths to fight off the gags that threaten to escape me.

It's when my nose buries in his soft, curly hair at his base that the bell of the front door rings.

"Hi!" Peeta says a little too quickly, a little too brightly. "Welcome to Mellarks Bakery. How may we- I help you today?"

I'm frozen, his hand gripping my hair out of anxiety. If I pull away, we'll be done. If I stay here, Peeta may very well have to make good on his promise.

Although, acting has never been a challenge for him, has it?

The customer is describing a custom tart she wants made, then pulling out a long list and prattling about this, that, and the other thing. Her accent clearly shows her as a Capitol transfer, and these orders always take forever given that they still have a hard time releasing the concept of not over indulging. But this time I don't plan on complaining.

My tongue begins to move slowly, rubbing carefully along the bottom of his cock while I watch his face carefully. He's smiling at the woman who's still going down the list, his eyes glancing at me to confirm this is what we're doing. With a small nod from me, his hand casually covers his mouth once more and he resumes focus on the woman, his other hand now guiding my head slowly, carefully.

He pulls me to the tip of his dick, working me back and forth slowly on just that spot. My tongue works quickly, my lips wrapping around him tightly to help create proper suction around him while I suck.

"Do you have pumpkin?" The woman asks.

"W- what?" Peeta asks, clearing his throat. "Oh, pumpkin. I'll admit I'm running a little low, it's been a popular request since we don't grow them locally. I've requested more but I don't know if they'll be in in time, so if you want something that uses it you'll have to get it-" his voice cracks as I deepthroat him again, swallowing around him quickly before returning myself to his tip. He clears his throat. "You'll have to reserve it right now," he finishes. I can see him quickly scoop up some of the pie, shoving it in his mouth and trying to hide his blush. It's lucky for us how oblivious Capitol born citizens are.

His hand guides me faster, focusing on fucking his tip near the back of my throat since we both know full well how hitting the back of my throat isn't an option. We can't risk any noise gagging may cause since it may not be covered up by the soft music playing on the shop speakers, a gift from Beetee for the reopening.

His pace is fast, faster than it should be. He's close, smiling at the woman and acting as though everything is normal. His large vein throbs, precum spilling out of him with each new thrust into my mouth. My hand reaches to press two digits against the soft spot behind his balls, a sensitive spot that makes him cry and squirm.

His jaw tightens as I do this, his eyes darting down daggers quickly. I can hear coins on the counter, Peeta accepting the list and opening the register. With the loud 'clank' springing forth from the older device, he takes the chance to slam my face down fully on his cock, his fingers making the coins loudly shift around as he gives the customer her change. Tears spring to my eyes from the sudden force, swallowing around him as I focus on my breathing to recover. He promises the woman he'll do what he can and wishes her a good day, and she coos sweetly. She reaches across the counter, patting his cheek and calling him a sweet boy before turning and walking out of the bakery, the bell chiming at her exit.

Peeta looks down at me, smiling brightly. "Hi," he says with a newfound excitement.

I moan around his cock. He gets it.

"You okay?" He asks, his hands moving to cup my cheeks. I make an affirming noise, trying to smile. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" He asks, his thumbs swiping away the small tears dangling from my bottom lashes. I shake my head, swallowing around him. He moans softly, his grip tightening.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot you like it when I am, don't you?" He asks, beginning to slowly pump his dick in and out of the back of my throat. I moan happily, taking him as easily as I can.

"You know how hard it was not coming down your throat with that lady in here?" He asks. "I had to edge myself so that it wouldn't become known how much I like fucking your throat."

My cunt throbs at his words, his closeness making him willing to be more rough. He starts fucking my face in earnest, tearing noises from both of our throats as he loses himself.

"Can't do that again," he pants. "Next time I'm just taking you. I don't care who walks in." He's moaning openly now, his cock abusing me. I can feel him throbbing, twitching. There's enough precum it's all I can do to focus on swallowing and breathing.

"Show this whole District how much I love you," he babbles. "I'll eat you out on this fucking counter, I don't give a fuck."

I press my heel against my clit, grinding into it to relieve some friction as my hands steady my body against his thighs. The chair underneath of him creeks horribly. If anyone walked in now, I don't even think we'd have a small second to hide what we're doing.

"I love your fucking pussy," he rambles, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. "Love your fucking mouth. You take me so well. So eagerly."

I moan around him, spit dribbling from my mouth, hair stuck to my face. His balls slam against my chin, his wet curls pressing against my nose as he face fucks me like a rabid animal.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat," he announces. "Then you're gonna cum down mine. Again," thrust. "And again," thrust. "Until we don't even have to make dinner from how full we'll be." Goddamn, he's close.

His hands are rough, gripping my face. "Rub your tongue harder," he commands. I do, putting as much pressure as I can on his throbbing vein. He moans loudly, leaning forward and clutching my head.

"I'm coming," he pants, his voice high and tired. "Fuck, I'm coming-!"

His warm, thick load shoots down my throat, filling my mouth so much I cant breathe if I want to swallow it all.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises. "So sweet and good, eager to make me cum." His face is pressed against the cool counter, his chest heaving as he recovers his breath. His thumbs stroke my cheeks at different paces, small whimpers escaping him as I milk him dry with my mouth, making sure not a drop is left behind. When he's fully softened, I place a small kiss on his tip before tucking him back in, rebuttoning his clothes and patting his thighs one more time.

It takes a moment for me to rise, my joints stiff and my mind scrambled from the abuse it had just suffered. I stumble a little as I stand, Peeta's weak arms collecting my body and bringing me into a warm embrace.

"You're wonderful," he whispers, resting his head against my chest. I chuckle softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his messy hair.

"So are you," I say.

He looks up at me, flushed and smiling at me with the most wonderful, lazy look on his face.

"Your turn," he says, finding a new wave of surprising strength and placing me on the counter.

"Peeta, we're still open," I giggle, batting his hands away.

"I know," he says. "Did you think I was joking?"

He stares at me, smiling and eager as he begins to part my legs.

This is going to be a long night.

•《♡》•

Whoever gets second place on the poll is who I'm writing next. Feel free to send in requests for characters/scenarios! See you next time, you degenerates <3

Masterlist

#josh hutcherson #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark smut #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark #thg peeta #peeta x reader #peeta x you #peeta x y/n #peeta smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x reader #jhutch

420 notes · View notes

huskersbooze · 2 months

Note

Helloo! Can i Request an alastor x reader angst? (I love angst im sorry😭) where reader n alastor are good friends, but soon alastor starts catching feelings, he didn’t like that so he starts ignoring reader hoping it’ll go away, but when alastor realizes it doesn’t, he wanted to apologize for ignoring reader and maybe confessing, but he couldn’t cause he found out reader got redeemed into heaven? Please and thank you!!

A/N : Oh fuck yes I'm a sucker for angst. This is actually a really interesting concept! Completely opposite to my other fic where Reader ignores Al. Thank you for the ask <3

Alastor Doesn't Do Feelings

Alastor x Reader

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here, Gn!Reader here)

Warnings : Cusing(what do you expect? It's Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags : Angst, no use of (Y/n), use of dear/darling

Word count : 1.25k

It was never supposed to turn out this way. Alastor, the fucking Radio Demon, doesn't do feelings.

But here he was, finding himself getting flustered, his cheeks red, ears pinned back and his smile faltering.

And it was all because of you.

"-and so I told him to back the heck away, but I swear his brain can't seem to comprehend simple words! He-"

You went on and on about your day, but Alastor could only focus on the close proximity between the two of you and your hand came so close to brushing his every minute or so.

"Alastor! Freaking hell!" He snapped out of his trance when he heard you yell his name.

He cleared his throat, quickly gathering himself once more, "Yes, darling?"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Of course, I was." Which, frankly, was a lie.

"Just go to bed, dipshit."

"I don't need sleep."

"Your brain is hijacked, Al." You try to give his ears a scratch. Alastor attempts a dodge but fails. "See? You can't even dodge a simple pet on the head."

"I let you do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Darling, you know I don't sleep."

"It was an expression, babe."

He knew you meant it as a joke, a light-humoured name you called him; like how he called you "dear" or "darling".

But he couldn't help the blush that found a way to his face.

"Alastor! You're doing it again!"

"I beg your pardon?" He snaps out from his trance.

"You're dozing off again. Are your radio parts radio-ing properly?"

"I'm not an actual radio, my dear."

"Well, you sure act like a broken down machine." You let out a giggle, him doing the same, but it ultimately sounded like he was buffering.

"You need help." You get up and give him another ruffle behind the ears, catching him off guard. "G'night, Al."

He doesn't respond.

He's too busy screaming internally.

-----

Alastor doesn't do feelings. Yet, here he was a broken mess because of you.

No, this was unacceptable. All he'd work for. His reputation. The danger it'd put you in.

He couldn't afford any of that gone — especially not you.

How was he to get rid of this weird churning he gets in his stomach when you near, though? How was he to stop loving you?

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings. He nearly did, once, because of you. But he’d found a way to stop it.

Or so, he thought.

“Good morning, Al.”

Out of everyone in the hotel, you were the one person he could tolerate. Despite your polar interests and behaviour, Alastor actually found it quite enjoyable to be by your side.

Sure, you rarely cursed, was so sweet and couldn’t bare the thought of killing, but Alastor never minded. You were the one person he looked forward to seeing everyday. He would usually only talk to you.

“Husker, may I have a word?” Yet, here Alastor was, completely ignoring your existence like you were some irrelevant imp a few rings down.

“Uh, sure, boss.” Husk sends you a questioning stare as you return the favour.

He didn’t actually have anything to say to him; it just hurt to see you. The feelings still lingered and he couldn’t do jackshit about it.

Staying away from you was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not intensify them.

“Alastor?” Yet, your voice captivated him in every way possible and his desire to be yours increased.

He simply left the room, and the two of you never spoke after that.

-----

“Alastor doesn’t do feelings, honey.”

“I know, Rosie! But we’re just friends and he knows that.” You take a sip from the tea Rosie prepared for you. “Though, lately, he’s been completely disregarding my presence like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Don’t look too much into it! I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just Alastor being Alastor.”

“But it’s not.” You sigh. “Something’s changed between us and I’m not sure what it is.”

“Well, did anything specific happen?”

“I.. I don’t know.” Your voice cracks at the agony. “I just.. Everything was fine that night. I just told him to sleep and the next morning it’s like I never existed.”

“Hm. That does sound odd.”

“Exactly! And I’m not sure what to do or if- if I’ve angered him- or- or maybe he’s sick of me-”

“Honey, breathe.” Rosie’s hand finds yours across the table as she rubs soothing circles on the back of your palm. “It’s in his nature to be sending mixed signals. Just give him time. He’ll come to terms with you eventually.”

“Are.. Are you sure?”

“You came to me for a reason.” She jokes, though her warm smile never left her face.

“Thank you, Rosie.”

-----

Alastor, your beloved strawberry pimp, doesn’t do feelings. He didn’t, he doesn’t and he won’t.

At least, that was before he realised he was catching feelings for you.

He’s tried so hard to ignore it. He’s done everything he could to ignore you, but despite his best efforts, you still found a way to float straight back into his mind.

“Alastor?”

“Yes, darling?” It took him a while to comprehend the fact he accidentally called Husk “darling”. His mind was just filled with thoughts of you.

“Uh.. anyways.” Husk cleared his throat. “You were close with the kid, right?”

“I suppose.” He shrugs, saying it as a matter of fact-ly. “Nothing serious.”

Alastor nearly flinched as he said it himself.

Nothing serious.

But in fact, it was starting to get serious. He was in love with you, head-over-heels obsessed, but he couldn’t come to terms with the fact and decided to push you away.

Fuck. What was he thinking?

“Yes, well I just.. wanted to let ya’ know she’s-”

“In a minute, Husker.” He says, taking off and trying to find you. He had to apologize. He had to talk to you and explain himself. But then, that would mean he had to confess.

Confess. Alastor’s smile widened as he thought of the idea. Blush crept from his face all the way down to his neck and his tail was uncontrollably wagging under his coat.

He loved you.

Turns out, Alastor does, and will do feelings.

-----

“Husker, have you seen her?” After a whole day of looking around the hotel, he couldn’t seem to find you anywhere.

“Her?” He asks, then immediately realising there could only be one her. “I was trying to tell you, boss. The kid.. The kid passed.”

“What?” His smile falters, eyes twitching, but still keeping his composure.

“Some drunk ass dude got hold of an angelic weapon from the last extermination. She was stabbed on her way back from cannibal town.”

The static in his ears were ringing louder by the second. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. He was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not you.

This whole plan backfired. It was a mistake. He kept what he hadn’t wanted, and lost what he desired.

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings.

He does, but only for you. He keeps his heart closed in hopes you’re still somewhere out there.

Any other demon who tries to get with him, ultimately gets turned down.

Alastor doesn’t do feelings, no; but he does feelings. He saves the romantic kind for you. The platonic ones, however, are open doors now because of you.

Alastor didn’t do feelings, but he does now — in hopes he gets redeemed and can find you in heaven.

———[ End. ]———

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bucknastysbabe · 3 months

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Let's play who's the sidepiece?, Aegon has half of King's Landing and his sister has one (1) man, humor, strong themes of sexism/patriarchy/gender roles, infidelity but casual?, jealous jealous jealous Aeg, who is also a self-absorbed idiot, Aemond just wants peace, pnv!sex, Incest need I say more, manipulation, degradation, rough sex, oral sex (m!receiving), a bit toxic at the end but they do love each other.

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @thought--bubble

Divider by @saradika

Aegon was suspicious. Sure, he fucked whenever and however he wanted. Regardless of outside activities, something was off in his meticulously planned life. Planned by others, of course, he couldn't give a rat's ass. The prince just had been wed to his sister, the less strange one. She was suspiciously…competent in bed. He could swear she was supposed to be a maiden. She was- bled during the bedding ceremony when he first fucked her.

But the way she rode his cock was good. Too good. Aegon knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Frankly, it was eating him up. She even gave fantastic head! Who the fuck had taught her that? He narrowed his eyes at her, the fellow blonde looking bored at supper.

Aegon took a swig of his wine, eyes dark as he studied her. Maybe if he looked long enough someone would jump up and act jealous. What if she was secret fuckmates with his nephew? Aegon had a vague memory of a sordid rumor regarding Jacaerys Velaryon's horse cock. He would kill himself, truly. He could imagine the letter, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t take that shame, yes I know I live in constant shame, but this was the final straw.”

His sister-wife was staring now. She raised a brow in question. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Aegon grumbled, “Nothing. Just looking. Can’t have a look, alright then.”

She scoffed, “You can look, but you’re looking as if you’re about to eat my face.”

Oh. Aegon blushed in embarrassment. He drank more wine, mumbling a ‘sorry’. He didn’t want to broach the subject at supper. The prince’s damn family was nosy enough as is, he didn’t need Aemond’s big ass nose in his ear. Or one of those frightful looks from Alicent. If Aegon got lectured by Otto or Criston he would consider stabbing himself.

Aegon mulled over what he should do next between bites of mutton. She obviously wasn’t going to the Street of Silk, because that was his domain. Someone would’ve peeped already. He reluctantly knew when Daemon was visiting. Every. Damn. Time. Why would Aegon want to hear about the fuckhead's potency issues?

Mayhaps he should get her on the cusp of orgasm and demand who her secret lover-teacher-whatever was. That seemed sound enough to Aegon. When he was about to nut? One could ask him anything, there would be an answer. The prince smiled enigmatically, laughing to himself.

To which his sister-wife said, “You’re acting strange tonight.”

Aegon cooed, “Sorry, just dreaming a bit.”

Under the table he put a lecherous hand on her thigh, squeezing over her soft dress. His sister blushed and squirmed, fork awkwardly clanking across the plate. The woman hissed, “Okay I get it!” She cleared her throat, ignoring any stares. Aegon smirked and squeezed a bit higher, plump lips splitting into a grin.

Aegon had immediately crowded her smaller frame in the bedroom, plush lips attacking her neck, impatient hands pulling at her dress. She moaned, walking backward into the bed, yelping when Aegon crawled atop. He murmured, “You looked ravishing tonight, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Uh, huh, the clasps you fool,” she groaned.

Aegon huffed, probably tearing the fabric as he separated the back of the dress. She began to shuck the dress off while he awkwardly pulled off his breeches. They giggled a bit making eye contact; Aegon unbuttoning his tunic and her unlacing the corset. Soon they were both naked, grinning and kissing, her soft skin rubbing against his.

Aegon grabbed her thighs, mouthing at a tit and playfully nipping at it. She squeaked, thighs tightening around his waist, throwing long blonde hair back. His wife cried out, “Aegon! Quit playing!” He pulled off her nipple, murmuring between little kisses, “Why, is the princess needy?”

He slipped a ringed finger between her folds, finding her wetter than expected. Aegon dipped into her cunt, laughing, “Ah she is, little whore.” The princess writhed a bit, leaning up to capture his lips, lapping into his mouth hungrily. The prince returned her eager movements, curling his fingers into her pussy, letting her ride his hand.

“Fuck, you’re a doll,” he swore, “Perfect.”

She whined and arched up into him, hips canting on his hand. Aegon used his other hand to play with her sensitive tits, thumb circling around a budded nipple. She shivered and cried his name again, a pretty blush diffusing across her pallid skin. The prince hummed “Are you going to come for me sweetling? So soon?”

“Ngh, please, yes Aegon!”

He sped up his movements, feeling her tighten and twitch, the princess on the precipice. Aegon moaned before gathering himself, his pulsing cock was scrambling relative coherency. As it did. He panted, “Gonna count down and I want you to let go okay? Then I’ll fuck your pretty cunt.”

She nodded with lidded eyes, mouth hung open. The picture of ecstasy. Aegon smirked as he spoke.

…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Oh gods Aegon!”

“Who are you fucking!”

She writhed through the helpless orgasm, confusion evident on her twisting features. Aegon couldn’t help but throb AND be quite annoyed. He slurped the juices off his fingers, leaning back with a look. The prince was feeling sullen and not sure if he wanted to play anymore. His wife stared up at him and echoed “Who…am I fucking. What?”

Aegon pouted. This didn’t go to plan. He rolled his eyes and explained, “You excel, frighteningly so, at our bedroom activities. Yes, yes I know you were still a maiden at our wedding. But I am onto you, I don't know much but I do know about fucking, dearest."

“Are you kidding me? This is ludicrous Aegon!”

She had sat up now, crossing her arms, lips pouty. The prince stated as if it was obvious, “You know your way around a cock. Obviously, this comes with experience. I’ve bedded many a maiden and they usually just stare until you flip them over. So who’s the secret mentor?”

She scoffed in horror, cheeks reddening further, “I can’t believe this Aegon! You’re an idiot! I’m not fucking anyone else! Unlike you!”

“Lies you tell, no spring maiden has gargled my balls!” he accused, face growing equally red in frustration, ringed finger pointing at her.

His sister grew quiet, looking away. She mumbled “Fine. Do you want to know who it is so bad? This stays between us.”

Aegon nodded, impatiently gesturing for her to come out with it. She seemed to grow more uncomfortable. Then spit out a name so low and fast he couldn’t hear. Tonight might be the night he explodes. The prince groaned, “Oh my gods, just say it in a normal tone!”

“Larys Strong!”

What?

He burst into laughter. The prince guffawed, clutching his stomach, shaking with humor. She gaped “What? I’m not lying!” Aegon laughed some more thinking about the foot monger, he’s a bigger virgin than anyone in the keep. He breathlessly chuckled, “Good one, yeah right dear.”

She began to pull on her chemise, annoyed now. Aegon grasped at her thigh, pleading between fits of giggles, “I don’t know why you’re hiding this? I don’t care who you go and find pleasure with. Unless it’s truly Larys. C’monnnn love don’t leave.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. You’re making up things. What if I’m just good at carnal activities hm Aegon? You're an ass!”

Aegon contemplated the possibility, “Sure, that could be true. Now stop being huffy and come here. I said I’d fuck your pretty pussy.”

She stared down at him before taking her chemise back off. The princess hissed, “You’re a right asshole you know that? You better fuck me good. Prick.”

Aegon laughed again, cheeks hurting from his fit of humor. He maneuvered her onto all fours, sliding his cock against her still-wet folds. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, nosing sweet-smelling hair. He placed a hand on her tight stomach, humming, “I’m sorry dear, I’ll make it better Hm?” He slid in, watching her pretty eyes roll up in her head.

Aegon still wanted to know who his sister was fornicating. She probably was still seeing this person. All he knew was that they resided in the Red Keep and certainly not Larys Strong. The prince had to open his mind to the possibilities of women too. There were many a pretty handmaiden who tended to his wife.

He frowned in thought, sipping his wine. Aegon sat next to his stiff bitch of a brother in the library of all places. Secretly, Aegon hoped the knowledge in the room would give him some magical foresight gift- but not that weird shit Helaena did sometimes.

His wife fucking a handmaiden- that felt too overt. He’d only seen his sister gag and moon over visiting knights and lordlings. Next to Aegon sat his irritated brother. Aemond was quiet, too quiet. He and their sister got along quite well? Aegon's eyes turned to his not-so-little brother.

“Aem.”

“Why are you speaking to me? I’m trying to read.”

“I have a question. That's why, you frozen-faced ass.”

Aemond picked his head up and glared, slamming his book closed. He huffed “What, oh, what, could your drunkenness possibly ask from me? No, I’m not covering your ass again.”

Aegon snorted. His brother was such a frigid quim. He acted like Criston Cole, peacocking around the place, chip on their shoulder. The elder asked “Look. I’ll just be blunt with you. Our sister, my wife. She is merely too good in the sack. Are you fucking her? Is she fucking you?”

Aemond’s jaw audibly clicked in annoyance. He struggled over his tongue, face red. The second son stood up, slamming his hands on the stone. He retreated with a swish of hair and growled, “Buffoon.”

Aegon called after him, “Your behavior has not marked you off my list!”

"Fuck you and your list! Drunkard!!"

Icy little prick. Aegon rolled his eyes, pondering on his next target. Perhaps Jason Lannister? He was wooing any Targaryen princess for his sons. Or possibly Ser Arryk, her sworn shield. Aegon would go to them next. Then maybe do a night check on Aemond’s quarters. His wife was busy with their mother all day anyway. How boring.

Safe to say the prince was still vexed. Jason Lannister laughed in his face and Ser Arryk was extremely confused. He replied in that dumb voice of his, “The princess and I? I’m not that simple your grace. Some of us Kingsguard do take our vows seriously, although I can’t say the same for others.”

He refused to elaborate afterward, Aegon throwing his hands up and moving to the next destination. While walking, he pondered Arryk’s words. Could it be another Kingsguard? Maybe Erryk? Criston had already used up his one allotted Princess fucking and it turned him sour. Erryk would stay on Aegon’s list, the other men too plain ugly or on Dragonstone.

Too annoyed to try any decorum, Aegon simply kicked Aemond’s door open. The younger prince squawked in shock, his hair flying around. Why was there a portrait of Daemon? Why was there another half-finished portrait of Aemond obviously in the same style? Aegon spluttered, “What the fuck? You’re so weird! Daemon? Blech brother!”

Aemond, hair tied back and wearing simple clothes smudged with paint— was positively furious. He hollered, “Get the hell out! I’m not fornicating with our sister! She’s your wife! Say a word of this and I’m making you a Eunuch!”

Aegon was booted out, literally, as in Aemond’s big fucking boot kicked him in the arse.

“Should’ve known. Weirdo,” Aegon grumbled.

He limped back to his quarters, dreadfully needing a sip of wine and someone’s lips around his cock. Today was dreadful. He actually tried to do something. Which trying was rare for him! The prince went to open his door, only to step back when Ser Criston exited.

He raised a brow. Criston looked at him blankly, dark eyes placid. Aegon asked, “What were you doing?” The Kingsguard scoffed, “Your sister was having a fit about a spider, I heard her yowling and killed said spider. Goodnight my prince.”

Aegon glared at the surly marcher, shaking his head and entering the chambers. He immediately went to the table and drank straight from the bottle, deep, deep pulls of relief. The blonde placed it down and sighed, turning towards his bed.

His wife sat there, eyes wide, wearing only her askew shift. Aegon bitched, “Oh. Nice to see you too. Maybe a ‘Hello lord husband, how are you?’ would suffice.”

The Princess’ cheeks were pink. He guessed from the embarrassment of having Ser Criston kill a small bug. Then explained again why Ser Criston had to kill a small bug. She mumbled, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were at the brothels.”

Aegon plopped down in a chair, grabbing the bottle. He whined, “Nope! Been trying to find out who your mystery lover is all day. No one wants to pipe up! I should’ve gone.”

She gazed downwards, biting on swollen lips. The princess stood up on shaky legs, making her way to Aegon and kneeling between his lax thighs. She hummed, tracing a finger up one, feeling the muscle twitch. His sister mused, “Can I take your mind off this mystery lover? You’re much more desirable to me. Don't they say the blood of the dragon reaches out to another?”

“Sure, definitely” he whined again. Aegon would pout this out, it was his specialty. He honestly was hurt, why couldn’t he know their identity? Sure he’d get jealous and probably ban her from seeing them but still! He was sad!

“Am I that unappealing to you?” he whimpered, tears pricking at violet eyes, frustration and self-pity leaking over.

She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around his midsection. The princess laid her head upon his thigh and cooed, “No. You’re my husband, my blood, we are a union now. That partnership…started because I was afraid you would find me boring. So I wanted to know how to please a man.”

Aegon sulked and sniffled some more, taking another deep drink from his goblet. The familiar fuzz was coming along nicely, patching up his insecurities. But it was nice to hear her admit a smidgeon of truth. She kissed his leg and continued, “Aegon dear, have I not pleased you? It was a transaction between the person and me. They wished to make their identity a secret so as not to catch your wroth. I no longer see them like that. I hate that you’re upset, I did this for you.”

Aegon nodded, feeling a bit better. His sister was good. She easily melted his pouting protocol. The female Targaryen rubbed his thighs and moved her mouth to hover over his clothed cock, eyes looking up as she breathed, “Now baby, just relax and let me make this better, hm?”

He moaned softly as she mouthed over his swelling member, nimble fingers untying his breeches, other hand massaging the soft flesh and meat of his thigh. She eased Aegon’s cock and his sac out, groaning with a flutter of her long lashes. The prince squirmed a bit, breathing heavier, holding off a whine.

“Just you and me, sweet baby.”

She was increasingly convincing kitten licking the ruddy head of his prick like that. The girl’s dainty hand wrapped around his length, the other going to hold his balls, keeping them nice and compressed. Aegon’s back arched when she eased him into a silky wet mouth, tongue massaging the underside as his wife hollowed her mouth.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

Aegon responded with a noise he’d rather not dwell on. It was very…emasculating. Gods, she was so good at this. He needed to get over his qualms and just fuck her so good the princess wouldn't stray again. Good and obedient- all for Aegon. He eased her off gently, demanding, "Lay across the bed. Now."

Wide purple eyes stared at him. She murmured, "What? I- I don't need that, let me take care of you."

Aegon shook his head, grinning, the drink emboldening him. Something about Arbor Red made him impossibly aroused and giddy. He jerked his chin toward the plush bed and laughed. His sister got up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She padded and leaned her body over the bed, long legs spread, chemise discarded to display her swollen cunt to him.

Aegon pulled off his breeches as he stalked over, eyes drinking in her pussy. He smacked a hand across her ass and grabbed the stinging flesh. He asked roughly "Did your mystery lover sneak out the servant's exit when Ser Criston heard your yowling?"

"Yes, yes! Sorry, fucking yes!" she shouted.

Aegon's face darkened at her puffy and slick cunt, obvious signs of someone having a feast down there. He ran the blunt tip of his swollen cock across her folds, groaning as he smacked her clit. The prince snapped "You're a goddamn lying slut you know that? A match made in heaven with me huh? Did Ser Criston walk in when you were getting your cunt licked?" He wound a fist in her blonde tresses, pulling it tight.

She shivered and shook her head, whining, "N-ohh, he didn't see!"

"Hm, sure, probably took a peak, the weird bitch. Whatever, I guess I'll have to fuck this person out of your mind? Or you're coming with me to the brothels sister dearest."

He slid into her tight hole, gasping at the ridges and warmth. Aegon tightened the fist in her hair. Maybe he'd fuck a babe in her tonight, then she'd be stuck in his quarters surrounded by maesters and tittering handmaidens. Eugh. Aegon huffed and fucked her at a brisk pace, his other hand smacking her ass every other thrust.

His sister-wife moaned, taking his cock like she was made for it. She fucked back onto him, back arched, tits bouncing. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed as she panted Aegon's name, eyes wet and wide. Aegon leaned over her form and growled, "Don't know who this fucker is but I will find out. He better know whose cunt this is, eh? Shout it, tell the whole goddamn keep who you belong to, sister."

Aegon relished in her little whimper, his fingers pinching her clit as he forced her hips up to drive into her good spot harder. He bit and lapped at her neck, hissing, "C'mon and say it or I'll lock your ass up here with no visitors. Just me and I'll get my fill, fucking snake." She blubbered, seizing around his cock a hair.

"Oh gods, please don't make me howl like that, Aegon, please!"

He fucked the princess rougher, holding her gaze with a tight grip around her chin. She bit her lip, eyes mournful before shouting, "Only you Aegon, I belong to you, yes big brother! Yes! I belong to my husband!"

Aegon grinned like the cat that got the cream. He cooed, "Good little sister, knew you still had it in you." He gripped her throat and refocused on fucking her until she cried. Aegon pinched and licked, played with her tits, circled her clit until she came all over him- yet the prince was still fit to go. Sweet sister was a mess now- covered in bites and hickeys, sweaty hair plastered to her neck. The younger blonde whimpered, "Aeg- Aegon, I- I can't possibly do this again!"

Her eyes were frantic, her cute body shaking and coming apart wondrously. Aegon hummed, "You will come for me again sweetling. I know you can, just whining on my prick like you were paid for it? Does he fuck you like this huh? Make you see stars?"

"N-noooo, only you!"

"Good girl, come on now, wanna feel that sweet pussy of yours cream around me one more time. Then I'll fill you up deep- maybe he won't come around when you are all ripe with," he punctuated his next words with thrusts, "My. Goddamn. Child."

The princess wailed softly, overused and overstimulated. She felt the crest of another burning orgasm flaring up and forcing red hot tears down her blotchy cheeks. It was intense and she cried harder when Aegon's thick seed stuffed her twitching cunt and womb to the brim. He seemed to be satisfied now, cooing at her, "There we go, ffuck, that's my sweet girl. See, don't need anyone else around now hm?"

Aegon wiped her gorgeous tears, smiling victoriously. She cuddled into his arms, letting her husband soothe and stroke her trembling flesh. He even hollered for a servant to grab some water. The prince murmured, "You did so good, such a good wife, yes, maybe just a bit of punishment does sweet sister well." He grew quieter and pressed a kiss to her soft forehead, "I love you, truly, for tolerating a failure like me."

She smiled softly and pecked Aegon's full lips, her own swollen from tonight. Aegon wiped her tears as she sighed, "I love you too Aegon. Buffoon you may be. I hope the seed takes. No more about mystery lovers. The whole keep has heard now sweetheart."

Aegon smirked, hoping every single soul heard.

One soul in particular did, his black gloves tightening in annoyance. He was down the hall before turning back and having to hear the heir...rudely fuck his sister-wife. With a growl and swish of the cloak, the true mystery lover was gone. She'd be back in his arms sooner or later. Aegon couldn't fuck him out of her soft heart.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x sister!reader #aegon ii imagine #the very obvious sidepiece lmfao

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howtofightwrite · 7 months

Note

Was reading through your torture tag and noticed a lot of stuff that was being said seemed to contradict things that were said on the scripttorture blog... do you have any suggestions on how to clear things up? Im not sure which things to trust

And you're asking us, because they've posted once in the last two years?

I'll admit, I have a fairly low opinion of them, and that's not directly their fault. For years, one of their fans, would regularly send some pretty incendiary asks our way. In fact, some of the less hostile ones were answered, and may be the posts you were looking at. Understandably, the ones simply accusing us of being torture apologists, demanding we redirect all our asks to their blog, or insisted that we should sit down and shut up, did not make the cut. With that in mind, please understand, I'm not going to go digging through their blog to refresh my memory, so some of this might be slightly skewed by the aforementioned deranged fan.

Look for the blog that does not constantly contradict or misrepresent their authoritative sources. Which is to say, if you actually pay attention to Shane O'Mara's work, it's basically what we've been saying all along.

If you're unfamiliar, O'Mara is a Neurologist who was (last I time I checked) working at Trinity College Dublin. He published a, frankly fascinating piece, called, Why Torture Doesn't Work, in which, he set about trying to answer why torture is an ineffective tool for intelligence gathering. O'Mara also had the misfortune of being the only expert who said anything close to the perspective Scripttorture wanted on torture.

An open secret about torture is that it is completely worthless for getting accurate information. This has been widely understood for centuries, if not millennia. O'Mara's question was, “why?”

It turns out, that the neurochemical trauma associated with torture, seriously interferes with your ability to accurately access information. For example: If you're being tortured, you can't tell your torturer where you planted the ticking bomb, because your brain literally can't access those memories.

Torture is evil. Yeah. No shit.

And, this is where ScriptTorture stops. “Torture is bad,” and Jack Bauer is an incredibly unrealistic fantasy, end of story.

Except, this is not the end of this.

Now, generally speaking, I don't blame anyone who wants to get off the ride here. Torture is an unpleasant subject, and wanting to stop at, “oh, it's evil,” is entirely reasonable... unless you want to write on the subject, or if you do political analysis and need to understand why people break out the torture implements.

More than that, this is where my academic background in political science actually comes into play. I'm not saying this as an Eagle Scout who had a couple overly enthusiastic hand to hand instructors when I was a kid. This is (part of) what I studied in college, and I have kept an eye on it since then.

If torture didn't work, you wouldn't see state-sponsored torture pop up repeatedly throughout history. It would not be one of the favorite tools of dictators and despots. However, because it does, and it is, simply saying, “it doesn't work,” isn't instructive or meaningful because it's clearly untrue. Someone is finding value in this, so it becomes important to understand what they are doing, and why they are doing it.

When you torture someone, the information they provide is basically madlibs of whatever leaked through their brain. They want the pain and stress to stop, and they'll say anything they can to make that happen. That often takes the form of what they think their torturer wants to hear. O'Mara's research does explain why they don't simply cough up the truth.

So, why do it?

Torture is a very labor intensive process. You (as an individual) can't, realistically, torture multiple victims at a time, and it is a very drawn out process. Some elements can be automated, your torturer doesn't need to be present at every moment, but they're going to spend hours, if not days, working on one victim. Worse, this is actually a technical profession. It's not like you can just pull in anyone off the street and get the results you want. (Though, technically, this doesn't seem to be as true, however, amateurs do have a shocking capacity to screw up torture. So, the point remains valid.)

The value of torture has almost nothing to do with the victim. It's about the message it sends to everyone else.

Torture is about mass coercion of the population. When you are the state (meaning, the government), and you torture someone, you are telling your citizens that you are willing to do the same to them, if they oppose you.

State-sponsored torture is specifically a tool to suppress political engagement. It is, quite literally, state-sponsored, domestic terrorism.

This even holds true in cases where the state employs torture to extract confessions from criminal suspects. The message sent into the general population is that dissent of any kind will not be tolerated, and that the state has the willingness and power to turn these tools on you if you draw their ire.

I get that this is outside of ScriptTorture's area of expertise, and in fairness, I probably would not have studied this with any intensity, if I hadn't taken multiple classes on revolutionary theory.

Torture from private organizations (which is to say, organized crime, and religious institutions, though cults and some other groups might fit this description as well), follows roughly similar patterns. These tend to do the same things, discouraging dissent, and establishing the organization as having power over the population (or community.) (The technical term would be to “establish capacity.” Which is to say, the organization's capacity to enforce its will. The same term applies to states, though in those cases, the state's capacity is often overestimated by its population. It's only when it starts to falter, for example through military defeats or serious civil unrest, that they really need the capacity boosting part of this equation.)

Zealotry or stupidity can create situations where you have a torturer (or, more likely, someone in a position of power ordering the torture) who believes that it is effectively compelling the truth from the victim. This (or amateurs) can easily lead into a distinct problem, which is that all of this has diminishing returns. Torture one person, and you send a loud, clear message. Torture ten, and all you've added to it is that you're willing to keep going. However, as you start stacking up the victims, you do start sending a new message to your enemies, that being, you're going to get to them sooner or later so it's in their best interest to respond now, mobilize and retaliate proactively, before you get to them. This means that a state which leans heavily on torture can easily instigate the civil unrest that exposes their limited capacity leading to a political death spiral. Alternately, if the state does have the capacity to put down the resulting unrest, it further reinforces their position (which does happen with depressing frequency in the real world.)

You're also going to create new enemies in the friends, family, and loved ones, of the people you tortured. This means that any organization that relies on extensive use of torture will, eventually, start tying a noose around its own neck. (Granted, there are a lot of social dynamics that I'm skimming over here, so it's not exactly as simple as “if the state tortures lots of people, it will result in increasing unrest.”)

If you want a partial citation for the above, you can (ironically) find it in a podcast interview with Shane O'Mara, when he explained why torture has been employed repeatedly through history. (Specifically I think it was episode 15 of Your Welcome, by Michael Malice. Though, I'm not 100% sure off hand.) Though that doesn't cover some of the more in depth elements I just discussed. Some of this is coming from a textbook on revolutionary theory I can't locate (it disappeared in a move a few years back.) Though that was more interested in the general structure of a state destabilizing into internecine conflict. Ironically, my preferred citation on torture, Fear up Harsh by Tony Lagouranis is mostly uninformative in this case, because his experiences were on the ground, rather than from a structural understanding of what his job was really doing. However, he does illustrate my comment about amateurs making even more of a mess, both through personal experiences with a few, and also through the eventual trajectory of the invasion and occupation of Iraq.

But of course, torture is evil... again, no shit. Was that really a question? And, I'm apparently a torture apologist for having a structural understanding of why evil people do evil things. Cool. Evil people don't do evil things because they're evil, they do them because they gain some tangible benefit from those acts, and they do not care about the consequences to anyone else. If you ask someone, “why do people do this?” and their answer is, “it's simple; they're evil,” that person is lying. They may be lying to themselves, but they are lying to you.

Why do people use torture? It's a lot more complicated, and unpleasant, than you'd expect at a simple overview.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #torture

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 3 months

Text

tags: satoru gojo x f!reader, bridgerton!au, reader and gojo are acquaintances, brief mention of satoru's mom passing when he was young. also please don't come at me if I got the garter belt/stocking thing wrong (I did a quick google search) so may not be historically accurate. (this could be a part two to this story that is also bridgerton gojo based).

“my lord,"

"please," he says, "gojo is fine."

"mr. gojo," you say, because frankly gojo feels too personal though it had been the last name his friends, such as lord nanami, have refered to him by. he stands at a respectable distance from you, watching over as you sit on a stone bench around the garden of lord kusakabe's home. your family visit had served to wish him congratulations after recuperating from a terrible cold this past winter. now, lord kusakabe stands as he used to, laughs as he holds a cigar between his lips as guests enjoy tea and play outdoor games.

though a lady like you, having a wardrobe malfunction, thinks it's best to hide behind a maze as you fail to adjust the garter belt that pulls up your warm stockings that keep the cold air from entering your skin. lord gojo stands at a respectable distance, towards your right as he attempts to look over your shoulder. your cling onto your left garter, saving any decency you can maintain.

you had met gojo through the first spring dance of the season, right after you had danced with higuruma. taken aback by his intial comments on how lord higuruma was a terrible choice for a satoru, and by your naivety by speaking your mind (respectably, of course) in front of someone so.... well of. regarded as royalty by even the queen herself. lord gojo did not hold your behavior against you, and to that you were partially thankful of. your honor must remain impeccable as your mother's. everyone has a standard to uphold, no?

what set you apart, nearly three weeks into the season from most, was lady whistledown's kind and praiseful remarks during the ball. it would be later made aware that perhaps you could be the diamond of the season. who knew as meeting the queen was only a week away.

so you had to keep your reputation as clean as possible.

"my lady, are you alright?" your jaw tightened at his words. you guessed perhaps your body tightened as well since the man approaches you carefully, slowly. waiting to see if you put a stop to him.

"yes, quite alright thank you." you laugh nervously, "just... a bit worn out from today's activities." he noticies you hold your leg.

"is your... leg alright?" he asks. you don't know how you do it, but when he suggests to get help, you stop him. it would be far worse for him to get help from others while you're here, with an intimate wardrobe malfunction.

"no! just... leave me be," he eyes you.

"I can assure you, leaving a lady in distress goes against my honor code. tell me, is there anything I can do?"

you hesitantly bite your bottom lip.

"it's... it's a wardrobe, malfunction, my lord." your eyes don't meet his as your cheeks burn under the sun. he looks at your figure, not sensing anything wrong at first glance.

"underneath."

"oh," he remains quiet for several seconds. "may I... may I know what it is?"

"my garter belt."

"what do you need to do?"

"I need to hook the end of the belt to the opening of the stocking, but..." you sigh, "it won't work."

"may I have a glance?" he asks, and you guess he senses the panic in your eyes and silence as he holds his hands up. "I promise I won't do anything, in fact, I'm sure your family might suspect your absence relatively soon if you don't return." but that isn't what worries you.

"I can't have a man that isn't my husband to do something like that," you try your best to not snap, "if anyone were to see or hear about this, my reputation would be ruined."

"not with me it won't." he says, "if you allow me to help, neither one would speak of this, and we can return back to the estate as if nothing happened. I don't wish to ruin the life of someone so...."

"so....?"

"someone honorary," he swallows, "respectable. most women your age enjoy ruining other people's lives, spreading misinformation to cause harm, and do anything as selfish as one can imagine."

"how would you know that?" you question almost bluntly, "you... you don't know me."

"I'm afraid you yourself aren't quite aware of the impression you have made on others, miss." he says as he slowly approaches, getting as far as to his knees to assist. "now please, allow me to assist you."

your lungs paused for what felt like an eternity. you didn't know what was more intimate, either his soft spoken words or his delicate fingers on your belt, causing your heart to beat loudly it would possibly errupt from your chest.

"how do you know how to do this?" you find yourself whispering. the lord looks up at you for what you can finally see up close are mesmerizing blue eyes, bluer than anything you've seen or dreamed of before he says.

"I used to watch my mother dress herself when I was a boy," he clarifies, "she passed before I turned 7."

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 11 months

Note

hello!! I loved what's in between so much and I need some more miguel o'hara fluff😭😭

if you're talking requests could you write one about how miguel and the reader have obvious feelings for each other but arent dating, Peter b trying to be the wingman and tagging mayday along while trying to set them up.

idk if this prompt has any scope, but I just liked the idea 😭😭

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: You have feelings for Miguel, so Jess and Peter decide to play cupid and help you out a bit :3

Warnings: None!! It's just pure fluff, silliness, paired with the classic best friends to lovers. Enjoy!!

You had a problem.

You had a very, very big problem.

Alright, so it wasn’t that big of a problem, but it lingered on your mind day and night. From the moment you woke up to the moment you went to bed it was on your mind.

What was it, you ask?

You might, just maybe, have feelings for your best friend. Now, you knew the tropes. Best friends to loves was arguably one of, if not the best trope to have. But those were stories, this was real life. It made it all the harder when your best friend was Miguel O’Hara, leader of the Spider Society.

Frankly, it was a miracle you even became friends with him in the first place. Somehow you had wormed your way into his heart and had the honour of being his closest friend. This however meant that it was highly unlikely for anything to progress further beyond the scope of platonic love.

This was a fact that you had grown to accept in the months of realizing your feelings. This didn’t mean you didn’t mope over it though.

“Ugh,” you groaned loudly, your forehead pressed into the cafeteria table as you lamented your feelings out into the world. A happy giggle interrupts your swirling mess of thoughts, however, and you turn your head and are met with the sight of Peter B. and Mayday by your side.

Lifting your head up, you open your arms and Mayday happily climbs into your lap, babbling softly. You feel your heart warm a little as she played with your fingers, her red hair a mess as she laughs happily.

“Can’t stay upset for long when this little one is around,” Peter says, smoothing out her hair that somehow only becomes more messy.

“This sucks, Peter,” you whine to the man, and he smiles sympathetically.

“We’ve all been there y’know,” and you only huff slightly. Peter was another one of your closest friends and the one you happened to rant to the most about your unspoken feelings.

“Would it hurt so much to just tell him?” he asks, and you whip your head over dramatically, a horrified expression on your face.

“I would quite literally rather take a dive straight down into Earth-67982 with all the gators than tell him,” you say, and Peter only snorts.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad! How do you expect to get anywhere if you never tell him how you actually feel about him,” he says, and while you knew he had a point you chose to disregard it.

“I’m perfectly happy where I am Peter. Single, and still with a best friend,” you say, but you sigh softly. “It’s not that easy anyway. There’s no way he likes me back, and it took him long enough to talk to me beyond anything superficial like the weather or the happenings of other universes. How am I supposed to confess to him,” you say, pinching Mayday’s cheek lightly. She scrunches her face up and you can’t help the giggle that escapes.

“Ah, relationship woes?” Jess jumps in, and you yelp in surprise while Mayday only laughs at your expense. You glare at her playfully and she imitates your expression in turn which makes everyone around the table laugh.

“We’re not in a relationship, so I don’t think it really counts as a ‘relationship woe’ Jess,” you say, turning to the woman as she settles in next to you for lunch.

“You could be in one if you mustered the guts to actually confess instead of pining for him like a lovesick teenager,” she says, and you shoot her a deadpanned look.

“There is no way in the 7 hells that I am ever going to confess to him, I mean, just look at him,” you say, nodding over to where he was picking up his own lunch from across the hall. “In the billions of possibilities that exist, there is not a single one where he likes me back.”

“Don’t see yourself short, you never know,” Peter says as he and Jess share a look, cogs turning as they scheme their own plots.

You were just walking about the HQ, stopping periodically to talk to the Spiders you knew. It was your day off, and your own universe decided to be boring today so you figured what better place to hang around than Earth-928?

Well, it was supposed to be your day off, until your name is called over the intercom alongside Miguel’s, telling you both to come to the monitoring room.

With a groan, you nod to the Spider you were talking to before walking over.

“Jess? Is something wrong?” you ask as you pop into the room, Miguel is already there and turns to nod to you in greeting which you return with a grin.

“There’s a mission I need the two of you to go on,” she says offhandedly, swiping through the screens as she studies the universe’s events.

“But Jess, it's my day off! There are literally hundreds of other spiders you could send on this mission,” you whine, the aches of the mission from yesterday still lingering on your body. Though almost imperceptibly she glances over at you, making it clear that there were hidden intentions behind this mission, and you press your lips together knowingly. You supposed she was in the mood to play Cupid.

“Why do you need us specifically?” Miguel asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously. It was his day off too, you were about to go see him as he worked on all his gizmos, he still wore his work outfit in place of his regular suit.

“This guy’s a bit of a tough one, so Lyla and I decided that we needed our best out in the field. Be ready to head out in 20, he’s already on the move,” she says, and you sigh lightly, unable to disobey orders.

Miguel only pats you on the shoulder.

“Bold of you to assume you think you can order around the Leader of this place,” he says jokingly.

“I can order around anyone I want when the Leader puts me in charge for the day,” Jess retorts as she puts her hands on her hips.

“Good point,” he relents.

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you say to Miguel as you head out together.

“…wasn’t this guy supposed to be a ‘tough one’” you say, quoting the air as you stare down at the anomaly you were supposed to take down. Miguel only snorts in response before shrugging. There, in your line of sight was the anomaly; a snail that moved at a top speed of maybe 2 kilometres per hour that a single well-placed trap could take down in seconds.

“Easier for us,” Miguel says simply before swinging down and doing just that. Immediately the force field wraps the villain up like a present, and his mask disappears from his face as he looks over at you.

At that moment felt your heart skip a beat as he grins up at you playfully.

“Are you going to hang up there all day or are you gonna head back with me?” he calls out as a portal opens up, snapping you out of your stupor.

“C-coming!”

“Peter, why don’t you get one of the younger spiders to babysit? Don’t get me wrong, I love Mayday just as much as the next person but I’m not that great with kids,” you say with a worried smile.

“That’s why you’ll have Miguel to help! I think you two will make a great team,” Peter says, handing Mayday over. You eye him suspiciously when the realization strikes.

“This is all a ploy to get me and him together, isn’t it?” you ask, and Peter puts on an oblivious face.

“What? No! No way, this is just a friend asking for a favour,” he replies.

“Don’t lie! You and Jess have been up to something for the past week, that mission, the closet, and now this,” you huff.

“Alright, fine. Maybe we did plan this out, but maybe the two of you just need the push,” he says, a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Peter, he doesn’t like me back. I know that already,” you say frustratedly, but sigh softly. “I’ll help you out, but no more games alright?”

“Alright,” he relents. “Thanks for this though. MJ and I haven’t had time to ourselves in a while,” he says, and you give him an understanding look.

“What are friends for?” you smile.

“Mayday! Get down from the ceiling, please?” you plead, watching as she babbles happily while crawling across the ceiling. You were right up there with her as Miguel stood on the floor with his hands on his hips, watching with blatant amusement.

“Miguel, a little help here please?” you ask him, and he only snorts.

“You seem to be doing just fine,” he says, and you let out a groan. Finally he gives in to your pleading.

“Solecito, you wanna come down now? I think you’re going to give your babysitter a heart attack,” he says and immediately she drops down from the ceiling into his waiting arms. You let out a sigh of relief as you follow suit.

“She only listens to you, I swear,” you say as you look at her, huffing softly.

“She likes playing around, and you have the most reactions so you’re her main target,” he replies, and you boop her nose playfully.

“You’re a little menace, aren’t you.” She only babbles happily at that.

“I’m going to grab her lunch, will you be okay by yourself?” you ask Miguel, and he bounces her up and down as she giggles loudly.

“We’ll be just fine, won’t we chiquitita,” he says with a small smile. It makes your heart warm as you watch them play together. You knew how hard it was for Miguel to be around Mayday after losing his own daughter, but he seemed to truly adore the little girl. It was precious to watch.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

After searching aimlessly for a few minutes, and a couple of mishaps you finally have a small bowl of food to feed Mayday. When you come back into the living room, you find Miguel sitting on the floor with Mayday in his lap, a toy grasped in her hand.

“I think you’d make a really good parent if you ever want to have kids one day,” Miguel says offhandedly as he continues to watch over the little girl. You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the compliment.

“Seems like the same would go for you, Miguel,” you say as you watch the two of them fondly. You can’t help the thoughts that flash through your mind. The two of you, together, sitting in a nursery just like this one with a child of your own. It was far-fetched and would probably never happen, but it doesn’t hurt to imagine all the ‘what-ifs’.

“Though that’s ironic of you to say considering I was just hanging on the ceiling trying to get her down not even 15 minutes ago,” you say, and he chuckles lightly.

“Parenting isn’t always smooth sailing, but you have a softness that makes the little ones feel safe. I see it when you’re with Mayday, even with the kids at HQ. Don’t sell yourself short,” he says, glancing over at you before holding out his hand to take the food. Somehow you feel your face heat up even more as you sit down by his side.

“Thanks, Miguel,” you say softly, and he only hums in response.

After all the events of the last week, you find yourself lost in all your swirling feelings. All those possibilities, all those moments you spend with Miguel wishing that they were more, it quickly became overwhelming. It’s why you find yourself trekking up to the observatory of HQ.

This was your favourite spot to come to when you were stuck in your head. Very few of the Spiders knew about it, which made it the perfect hiding spot when you wanted to be alone with your thoughts.

The ceiling panned up into a dome of intricate glass, allowing the light of the stars to shine through. Though realistically it was more the light of the futuristic Nueva York, the city that never sleeps. It didn’t make it any less beautiful though.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice cuts through the silence, and you jump slightly as you turn around to face Miguel who only chuckles at your expense.

“You found me,” you say softly, smiling at him though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. A look of concern washes over his face, and you wince.

He could always read you too well.

For a moment you just sit there in the silence, the only thing breaking the quiet being his soft footsteps as he approached you. Every step he took had your heart racing faster and faster until finally, he was by your side. Glancing at him, you see that he’s already looking at you, and there was something on his mind.

“Do you like me?” he asks softly, and you turn away from him, instead choosing to look out through the windows. Slowly, you sigh, still unwilling to make eye contact.

“Do you want me to be honest?” you say just as softly.

“I do.”

A lump forms in your throat as you fidget with your hands a bit, wondering if you should just lie. If that would make this any easier.

It was hard for you to be vulnerable with people, from a young age you were conditioned to hide how you felt because it made you seem weak. And even worse, you were told it made you a burden on other people.

You never wanted to be a burden.

It was hard for you to be honest with your feelings…especially if they were about how you felt about someone you loved. You think this is the first time you’ve ever loved someone like this, and you swallow harshly at the thought.

“I do…like you,” you whisper finally so that only his ears could hear. “I know it's cliche, but it's nothing but the truth when I say that I’ve never felt, felt feelings with anyone else the way I do with you,” you ramble, realizing that once you started you weren’t able to stop yourself.

“It makes me scared, Miguel. Feeling this way? I don’t know how to do this,” you gesture between the two of you, but still hesitating to look into those beautiful crimson eyes you adored so much.

“You’re my favourite person. Throughout every universe, every infinite possibility it’s still true. And I’m scared because it seems like throughout my life every single time I have something good it slips out from beneath me, and I can’t afford to lose you. I, I can’t,” you say, a single tear trickling down your cheek.

For a moment he doesn’t speak, and the car falls silent until he inhales lightly.

“That…is a possibility, it’s true. Maybe what we have, what we could have won’t work out. But maybe we’re that one possibility where us together is possible,” he says as he takes your hand into his own. It was warm.

So warm.

Finally, you dare to look into his eyes, and inside them, you find a swirling storm of emotions that you get lost in.

“Can we do this? Do you think we can?” you ask hesitantly.

“As long as you’re willing to try, mi vida,” he says, squeezing your hand lightly.

“I think…I want to try,” you say softly, and his eyes immediately brighten up like the sun rising over the horizon, lighting up everything in its path. He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and all you can do is nod as you feel your heart jump to your throat in anticipation. You’ve never wanted to do anything more.

Gently his hand rises up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before settling on your cheek as he leans in. You close your eyes as his lips touch yours, and a small happy sound escapes your throat.

It didn’t feel like how the love stories described how your first kiss would be, with explosions and fireworks.

No. It felt like the first breath of fresh air on a warm sunny day. Like the heat of a fire after a long day in the cold.

Kissing your best friend was like coming home, a comfort in every sense and oh so right.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity condensed into a single moment, Miguel pulls away. You look up at him with teary eyes, not tears of sadness but instead pure and utter joy as you smile brightly.

“I think this might be the start of something wonderful,” you say to him.

“I think so too, mi vida.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading because that entire confession was what I imagined I would say to my crush ghfkjghdfkjghfdk (I was in my feelings, as a result this fic was born)

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose, @leftcupcakedefendor

#miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader

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exhuastedpigeon · 16 days

Text

Fuck it Friday

Whoa baby, it has been a few weeks since I shared anything I've written. Not going to lie, real life has been busy, but on top of that I mostly haven't been super inspired to write lately because some parts of the fandom are/were, frankly, exhausting. So I took a step back like the adult I am and was focusing on some real life projects.

Anyway! Here's a snippet from a longer Buddie fic I'm working on. Not going to share too much from this fic since I don't want to spoil it :) just know it was inspired by seeing the pictures of the Diaz parents, Buck, Eddie, and Chris all at the hospital.

It isn’t Buck who finds Eddie, which is maybe for the best because Buck is pretty sure if he’d been the one to find Eddie he would have forgotten all of the important life-saving skills he knows and instead would have lost his mind. By the time Buck makes it to Eddie, the paramedics from the 133 are administering care and it takes both Bobby and Hen to hold him back. “There’s nothing more we can do,” Hen says as Buck’s knees give out from under him. “We need to let them work and get him to the hospital.” Eddie looks dead. He looks broken. He looks like that because he felt the floor starting to go and he pushed Buck to safety instead of trying to save himself. “He’s alive,” Chimney appears out of nowhere, or maybe he’d been there all along and Buck had been so lost in watching them carefully transfer Eddie onto a backboard that he hadn’t noticed him. “Unconscious but breathing.” “What hospital?” Hen asks the question that Buck can’t seem to get out. “Cedars.” “We’ll go back to the station to change and then I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Bobby says, leaving no room for argument.

tagged by @cal-daisies-and-briars @tizniz

no pressure tagging @daffi-990 @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @neverevan @jeeyuns

@inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @actualalligator @acountrygirlsfun @thekristen999

@jesuisici33 @wikiangela @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @butchdiaz

@honestlydarkprincess @rainbow-nerdss @watchyourbuck @ronordmann @eddiebabygirldiaz

@elvensorceress @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @shipperqueen6 @loveyouanyway

@sibylsleaves @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @ladydorian05

@underwaterninja13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @911-on-abc @epicbuddieficrecs @bi-buckrights

@spotsandsocks @fortheloveofbuddie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @wildlife4life

#my wip #buddie wip #buddie #fuck it friday #wip: You'd have to stop the world (just to stop the feeling)

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mitchellpete · 11 months

Text

Warmth

summary: Ethan has been gone more frequently. You try to cherish the sleepy morning with him.

pairing: ethan hunt x gn!reader

tags/warnings: established relationship, you don’t know ethan’s an imf agent, mild angst, mostly fluff, cuddles and kisses, very light suggestiveness

word count: 1162

dedicated to @kyber-crystal!

A sigh of content against your shoulder.

Having already been on the verge of awakening, Ethan’s lips on your skin seal the deal. The sunlight is hard on your eyes, your lids heavy with sleep. Eyelashes flutter against your undereyes, and then you’re staring straight at the light seeping in through the curtains, and your eyes close again.

Behind you, Ethan notices you’ve awakened, and the tight grip around your waist loosens just enough for him to tilt you towards him. You lazily help roll yourself over, his scent making you hum in delight. He’s shirtless; had gotten into bed after a fresh shower the night before. Home late from whatever they had him doing at work. It was getting a bit sad, frankly, having to pretend he was in bed with you by hugging his pillow. It was the only way you could get yourself to sleep without him lately; that and the fact that he would slip into bed eventually. Sometimes it was just an hour later, but sometimes it wasn’t until morning.

It ashamed you to say, but this had pushed you over the edge a few days ago. You were doing laundry, separating the colors from the whites, and, while looking down at the clothes, realized most of it was yours. One pair of his pants, a pair of his socks and three of his shirts. One of them had been worn by you. A tear had slipped down your cheek before you could even process it. Why wasn’t he here?

He was so perfect to you. You couldn’t possibly keep asking him. He was at work. Studying, learning, providing for the department. He couldn’t always be home.

But when he was home..

It was a struggle between wanting to appreciate it, and remembering that he was going to leave eventually. And who knows if he’d take longer to return the next time?

The thought crosses your mind when you meet his eyes. They’re glossy with sleep, a gentle smile on his face as he takes a good look at you in the morning light.

“Morning.” His voice is raspy, the way you like it.

“Good morning,” you whisper, bringing a finger up to twirl his hair. The strand lands on his forehead, and he pushes it back into place with a chuckle.

“You sleep okay?” He leans in and pokes your cheek with his nose, arms tightening around your frame again.

Scooting closer, you stretch in his grip, ridding yourself of the knots in your body. And then you sink into his warmth, and nothing has ever been more perfect. Hands sneak around his waist, nails lightly raking his back. “Better than okay, actually.”

He grins; likes your touch. “That so?”

Your forehead against his clavicle, you close your eyes again and nod with a smile. “It’s been a while.”

His fingers weave between your hair. “Since?”

You frown. You’re torn again. You immediately wonder if he’s bound to get up any time soon. If you won’t see him until the following morning, after he’d slipped into bed at 3AM again. Swallowing hard, you think maybe the warm and sleepy circumstances will make for an easy conversation. You think maybe he’ll give you the reassurance you very desperately need, and then you’ll go back to sleep and spend the day together. If only.

“I just missed waking up with you. Like this.”

For a moment, silence. You shift a little to ease it, moving downward so that you can lean your cheek on his chest.

Ethan doesn’t overcomplicate things. Never has, never will. “I know, I’m sorry,” he says quietly, pressing two kisses to your head.

You exhale, having expected a more elaborate response, but anything from Ethan is always more than enough. Because, even hardly around, there’s nothing he’s better at than making you feel okay. Safe. Comforted.

Missing him is a pain. But he’s yours. It’s your body he wraps himself around every night. You’re never going to doubt his loyalty to you.

And he shouldn’t ever doubt yours, either.

“It’s okay,” you mumble against his pec, lips meeting his warm skin.

He knows, though. Can read you better than anybody. And he’s most likely been in a tight spot, probably overworking himself. Your finger bumps into a spot on his back, and he winces. Definitely overworking himself. It’s alright with you, if he hadn’t noticed. You haven’t exactly communicated the problem. Haven’t told him how lonely you are without him. Don’t want him worrying about you at work.

Ethan takes your chin between his fingers; gently lifts your face from his chest to meet your eyes. You sink into his gaze, into his pretty green orbs. He leans in then, soft lips pressing against yours. You feel like you’re melting as he kisses you. It’s soft and slow, and wet. It’s always so good it makes you moan. He shudders when he hears you.

Strands of his hair fall to his forehead as he leans into you, kissing you like he’s doing it for the first time. Seeing what works, what doesn’t. But he knows you. You feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress, like you’re becoming one with it.

You whimper against his mouth, a sound delicious to his ears, and he pulls away to look down at you.

You lean up to peck his lips one, two, three more times, and cup your hand around his cheek.

He grabs your wrist; brings your hand to his lips for a kiss there too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

You blink slowly, hazy from his kisses. Wanting to be engulfed in his warmth again. You pull him down from the back of his neck, and half of his body ends up on top of you. His weight feels nice, his heat returning.

“Why do you take so long to come home?” you blurt out, voice soft. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, leaning to meet his lips again.

He kisses you back eagerly, and then trails his mouth down your jaw. “There’s so much I want to tell you.” Lips against your neck. “And I—” A kiss. “—I promise that one day this’ll all make sense.”

A small, lazy bite to your skin. A dirty moan escapes you, and he shudders again. “Those noises,” he whispers.

“I trust you,” you assure him, fingers toying with the back of his hair. “I just want to sleep in with you more often.”

He grins again. “I will most definitely arrange that, actually.”

“Good.”

Your grip on the back of his neck brings him closer, his face planting on your chest. He melts into you this time, strong arms wrapping around your torso as he makes himself comfortable. The sheets are tangled between your bodies, but you’re warm enough without them; Ethan’s body doing all the work. The position lulls the both of you to sleep again in the late morning.

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #ethan hunt x female reader #mission impossible #mission: impossible #mission impossible fic #mission impossible fanfic #*

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shewrites444 · 2 years

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official [xavier thorpe x reader smut]

my first smut yuhhh ( ﾉﾟｰﾟ)ﾉ this is written by me and only me!!

word count - 2.6k

[summary: the night of the rave'n, the reader and her date, xavier thorpe, address their situationship and unspoken sexual tension in a way the reader least expects.]

[warnings: risky sex, dom male, dom female, small mention of a mommy kink, unprotected sex, and just straight up smut lol]

whoever said the rave'n was the biggest event of the year was certainly correct, because xavier was clearly trying to make tonight extremely memorable for me. while we were yet to be official, i had a feeling he'd want to ask me out tonight, but i really wasn't sure how to even go about it all. yes, i liked him a lot, but there was a ton of things he still didn't know about me, and i really didn't know where to start explaining.

obviously he was aware that i was classified as a vampire, but that was fairly simple information, along with my deep focus on my academics and basically everything and anything that wasn't romance. when xavier and i started to get close after the summer, though, he grew on me far quicker than expected. despite how close we were now, he was still extremely unaware that when we sealed the deal on our label, i got comfortable very quick.. and frankly, i really wasn't sure he could handle how badly i needed sex and everything that comes with it.

that word was unknown territory between us, because i didn't know how he felt about it, and i don't think he knows how i feel either. we had yet to talk about it, and if he asks me to be his girlfriend tonight, i still don't think he understands what he's getting himself into. there was a lot of tension between us when we were in public and when we were alone, but i was so scared i would make him feel uncomfortable, and i knew he felt the same on my end.

i tried to block those thoughts out the best i could because tonight was about having fun with our friends and possibly getting asked out, not fucked like there was no tomorrow by my date.

he stood aside me as we entered the doors to the ballroom, which was so lightly colored that i felt blinded by the colors that surrounded me and the other guests. xavier slid his arm around my lower waist, pressing his palm against the silk white fabric of my gown, and leaning down to peck the side of my forehead to grab my attention, before glancing to the refreshments on the left of us.

"you want punch?" he asked quietly, looking down to meet my eyes with a soft smirk on his pink lips. "we can go tag along enid and ajax too for a little before i force you to actually get up and dance."

i nod with a grin, crossing my arms and watching him walk over the table, where i then walk towards enid, ajax, wednesday, and a few other friends. i look to enid with a smirk and motion my head towards ajax. she blushes and shakes her head.

"don't look at me like that, [y/n]," she giggles, playfully poking my side and leaning closer to my ear teasingly, "i won't be the one getting asked to officially be a girlfriend tonight.."

i roll my eyes and grin, shaking my head as my cheeks redden. "oh, hush, enid. between you and me, i kinda hope i get a little more than that."

"don't tell xavier i said any of this, but he told ajax he definitely wants to do more than just that if you were comfortable with it." enid whispers, watching my eyes widen before she then turns back to ajax as xavier hands me a drink and stands right next to me.

i take a sip and look down at the floor in disbelief. sure, xavier and i had made out before, but that never escalated because i always assumed he would want to wait awhile given how seriously he takes relationships and commitment. but before i could get too in depth of my thoughts, i broke the trance by looking back up to my date and linking our arms.

maybe, if what enid said was true, he would take what i was about to say seriously. if he really wanted to make tonight special, i'm sure he would do almost anything i wanted to, even if it was a small, stupid request.

"you wanna go to your dorm?" i ask, watching his expression change. "i forgot my phone back there before we left and i really want to take some pictures tonight."

xavier looked a bit confused, but nodded after taking my drink and setting it down on the table. he looked to ajax and grabbed my hand. "we'll be right back, [y/n] left her phone in my dorm."

ajax smirked, chuckling a bit to himself before nodding. "okay, don't be too long."

xavier grinned and turned the other way, leading me out of the room and down the long hallway that lead back to his room. as we walked, there was a silence that consumed us. i could feel his palms begin to sweat and his eyes glue to me while we took the steps closer to his dorm. i may not be gifted enough to read minds, but i knew for a fact exactly what he was thinking about.

i glance up to him as he unlocks the door, letting me walk in first. i watch him shut it, and upon his turning around to face me, i tilt my head with a confident, teasing smirk.

"i think you know i didn't forget my phone, xavier." i say quietly, walking back up to him, and watching the back of his tall, pale build press against the wooden door.

he nods slowly, looking down at me and moving his hands to my back, sliding them down onto my ass as i take my own hands and press them against the front of his suit. i lean up to kiss him, feeling him eagerly return the gesture through his own lips, and his fingers as they grabbed my ass cheeks assertively.

i pull away after a minute, and take one of my hands, moving it to the bulge that was beginning to grow in his pants, and gently press my fingers against it. i watch him take a heavy breath, looking down at me with lust in his eyes.

"i also think you know i'm not going to let you take control over what's about to happen, or have any part of me, if you don't even officially have me as yours," i mutter as i look up to meet his eyes, then motion my lips to his ear, "so if you want me so bad, then why don't you ask me what you were planning to ask me tonight?"

xavier leaned down, moving one hand to hold the back of my head, his lips tracing from my neck to my right ear, where he speaks quietly, but in a whining way, as if he could barely even take what i was doing to him right now.

"will you be my girlfriend, [y/n]?" he asked genuinely, but nonetheless seductively, as i could feel his hot, staggered breath against my skin.

i grin, moving my hands off of his lower body and to cup his cheeks, pecking his lips softly. "of course.. but i also want to ask you something, too, xav."

"anything, baby."

i look up to meet his eyes, and hold piercing eye contact, so much to the point i wanted him to feel uneasy but sinfully turned on at the same time.

"how badly do you want me to fuck you?"

he signed, a smirk painted on his face, shaking his head. "you don't even know how long i've wanted you to."

i take his hand and turn towards his bed, but feel his free hand grab the back of my neck, making me yip as he turns me around, my face stained red with surprise when he crashes his lips against mine unexpectedly. i quickly wrap my arms around him, feeling him lead me out of the dorm room, shutting the door behind himself as we stumble down the empty hallway.

i pull away, my eyes wide as i look around. "what are you doing?" i asked confused, "we can't do anything out here."

"sure we can. we'll go right back to the dance after anyway." xavier nips back, grabbing me by the ass and picking me up, setting me on the decorative table in the hallway of dorms, getting on his knees and sliding his warm hands up my long dress, pulling my underwear off withing seconds, before moving his head underneath my dress, as i spread my legs almost instinctively. i feel his tongue meet my clit, and my eyes widen, my face moving to pull my dress up just enough to where i could grab onto his hair.

"h-holy shit..!" i gasp as his arms wrap around my legs. "this is fucking crazy.." i breathe, oddly turned on by how risky, yet how dominant xavier was being at the same time. this was a side of him that even i couldn't predict, and while i was more dominantly natured, i was never going to let something this fucking hot stop just to defend my sexual ego.

his tongue circled my clit, quickly sending a knot in stomach as i grew wet within seconds, which he obviously picked up on as he let go of one of my legs and motioned his fingers from my inner thigh to my entrance, where he slid his middle finger in, earning a heavy moan from me.

he pulled his tongue away from my clit, standing up as he began to finger me with a second finger, looking down at me with a now messy bun on his end, his front pieces sticking to his wet lips. he smirks, almost tauntingly, as he finger fucks me on the table, which was now hitting the wall from how aggressively he was pumping his fingers in me. he leaned down to peck my lips, then licked his own.

"i think the real question is how badly do you want me to fuck you?"

i shake my head, looking up to him with a seductive grin. "you know i'd never let that happen without a fight."

xavier scoffs, moving his free hand to my throat, holding it lightly while he continues to rock my body, and the furniture, against the wall. i close my eyes, and lift my head up, as my mouth hangs open while he continues to penetrate me, so much to the point its almost painful, but deeply enjoyable at the same time. he watches me get closer and closer to my climax, and just as my breath cuts short, and i feel my legs shake while my core tightens at every pump of his fingers, he pulls away, sticking his wet fingers in my mouth before i could even speak.

"you wanna cum, you'll let me fuck you." he says, moving his hand from my neck to my waist, picking me up and letting me stand back up, my white heels now clicking against the tile floor while he turns my body around. i feel him hike up my dress, and his fingers slide out of my mouth, which only hung open in complete shock at what the fuck was happening right now.

i feel his cold belt buckle graze my ass cheek as his pants slide to the floor, and he bends me down with one hand, while the other slides his dick inside of my already wet entrance. i gasp, feeling him slide inside as he then grabs my waist, holding me as he begins to pump himself in and out of me while i lean against the table, holding the ends while my boyfriend fucks me like i never expected him to.

"you're so fucking beautiful, baby.. you don't even know.." xavier praised, kissing the back of my neck. "i've wanted you to be mine for so long.."

i let out a soft moan as he trails kisses from my neck to my cheek. i turn my head to lock our lips, "let me fuck you, xav.."

he shook his head, pecking my ear, and sliding himself out of me, watching as i turn myself around, grabbing his hand and turning right back to the door of his dorm, quickly opening it and shutting it.

"while what you pulled out there was so fucking hot, i'd rather fuck in private if i'm doing all the work." i smirk, standing before him and pulling my dress off, dropping it to the floor. i watch him undress, then press my hand against his chest, pushing him on his bed and standing above him.

"oh really?' xavier bit his tongue, looking me up and down. "what do you want me to do, hm? you've gotta do more than just look at me, [y/n]."

i slide my heels off, getting on the bed and taking his dick with one hand, teasingly rubbing it back and forth across my folds while i look down at him. "beg for it."

"do i really have to beg for something i already have?" he teased, moving his hands to my hips, and slamming me down on his dick. i gasp, feeling himself fill my insides up as he holds my love handles. "ride my dick please, mommy."

i let out a moan, immediately turned on from his words as i begin to rock my body back and forth, taking one of his hands and lacing our fingers together, leaning down to peck his lips affectionately.

"you don't understand how much that turns me on, xav.. way more than you know.." i mutter between staggered kisses, feeling his hand slide down my back, guiding me as i move my body in rhythm, while he begins to thrust underneath me.

"same here.." he admits, looking up to meet my eyes again, squeezing my hand. "everything about you turns me on. i've never wanted anyone more than you.."

i lean up, letting go of his hand and moving my fingers to my clit, stimulating myself while he now pumps himself into me, his hand reaching over to grab my tits as they bounced. our moans sync as we fuck, the bed creaking with each and every movement. i close my eyes as my climax nears, which he takes note of, quickening his pace and twisting my right nipple to further stimulate me.

"oh fuck, baby, i'm gonna fucking cum... fuckkk..." xavier cooes, his head hitting the mattress while he fucks me from underneath. i nod, nearly pushing myself to my limit as i rock my body with his, our hips clashing together, before we both let out a loud moan, and xavier finishes inside me, his cum dripping out of my pussy once i slide myself off and onto the mattress aside him.

he turns himself to face me, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me affectionately, then pecks my forehead, before putting a hand in my hair and guiding my head to his chest.

"how... how were you so good at that..?" i ask quietly, regaining my breath while i move my legs to intertwine with his.

xavier chuckled, looking down at me. "uhmm... it was actually a dream i had about us... and i realized you wanted to have sex just as much as i did.. so i sort of thought about it so much to the point i knew exactly what you wanted me to do, and i knew you'd like it just as much as i did."

i look up to him, sitting up with a shocked yet entertained face. "no fucking way. your wet dreams, and powers, are way better than mine. you better tell me the next time you have a dream because i need to be way more prepared for that."

"for sure." xavier laughed, kissing my cheek. "but on a real note, i am really happy we're official now, [y/n]. seriously."

"me too, xav." i smile, resting my head on his chest again. "but don't we have a dance to get back to now?"

"oh shit, i forgot about that. oh well." he shrugged, wrapping his arms around me. "there's always next year."

#wednesday #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #netflix wednesday #smut #x yn #smut writing #wednesday series

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under-the-dirt · 6 months

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Hi hi!! I was wondering if you could write a Price x Reader one-shot. In the story, the reader was involved with Price but ended up pregnant, resigning and cutting off contact due to the fear of jeopardizing Price's job or their relationship. After some time, Price spots her and her baby outside and approaches her.

Angst to fluff would be nice and the baby’s name could be Evangeline, I find that name adorable 🥹

hihihi anon!!! this idea is so sweeeeeeeettt!! sorry it took so long to write i’ve been busy and very very tired </3

pairing: john price x afab!reader

tags: pregnancy/mention of babies, a little angst, implied sex, pov change, under 13 dni :3

Price was devastated when he heard you were leaving. He knew, no strings attached, it was simply giving and getting, helping each other with their needs, but he couldn’t help but fall in love with you. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the way you moaned and whined, the way you clenched around him so nicely…

Next thing he knows, you’re leaving. He’d noticed something had been a little.. off about you, you’d been emotional, more quick to outbursts or tears, but he just assumed it was your period, as your cramps were pretty bad.

He didn’t think it’d come to this, to you leaving him. Leaving all of them. He watched you hug Soap and Gaz goodbye, he watched you shake Simon’s hand, and he watched you nod in his direction. He also watched the way your eyes changed when you looked at him. Your pupils grew, your eyes displaying all the love you had for him, but written on your face was purely guilt and shame.

As the time went on, he didn’t think he’d see you again. Ever. He found himself trapped in his work, rarely leaving his office to get food and water or go to sleep. He knew he looked like shit. It was obvious, with his beard growing out, the dark bags beneath his eyes and his hollowed cheeks. He looked like a ghost, frankly. So, the boys decided to get him out. They wanted to take him out for a day in the town, where he wasn’t allowed to work or do anything but have fun. So here he was, waiting for a coffee at a little cafe when he watched you walk in holding a baby. You were pregnant? As he stared, he noticed the baby girl looked so much like him. Her deep blue eyes, a fluffy head of brown hair, just a little carbon copy of him.

You took your baby out to grab a coffee and maybe get her a little treat. You were so focused on your task and your babbling little girl, you didn’t notice the large group of very built men. As you walked to the other side of the counter to wait for your coffee and the muffin you ordered for you and your baby, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned with a smile, expecting a compliment, but as you looked up you were met with the father of your baby. Captain John Price.

“C-captain?” You stuttered, confused and surprised. He looked terrible, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, out of instinct you reached your hand up and touched his cheek gently.

“Can we speak outside, love?” He asks, and god he sounds horrible too. You nod, walking out with him. He leads you into the alley and leans against the wall, hand over his face. “Is it..” He begins.

“Yes,” You answer quickly. rocking your baby gently.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to get in trouble, if anyone found out what we were doing.”

“I wouldn’ ‘ave cared, bunny. You know this.”

“It’s- it’s whatever..” You say softly, rocking your baby gently, looking at her instead of price.

“What’s ‘er name?”

“Evangeline.” You answer, rubbing her head gently as she whined and babbled.

“Can.. Can I.. Hold ‘er?” He asks nervously, biting his bottom lip as he looks down at you and your baby- no, his baby, in your arms. He watches you slowly place his baby in his arms, adjusting his arms to support her tiny body and little head properly. He’d always been a man of little emotion, but all the tears he’d drowned in whiskey decided to come up now. You didn’t even quite realize he was crying until you heard him sniffle, looking up and seeing tears streaming down his face as his lips shook. He gently rubs Evangeline’s cheek with his thumb, feeling her soft, perfect skin beneath his rough, calloused finger.

“You’re a natural,” You whisper, placing your hand on his arm. He nods, letting out a small sob and squeezing his eyes shut.

This great, strong man, one who’d seen the horrors of war, death, blood and gore, the man who’d forgotten how to flinch even with a gun at his head, was sobbing over his baby. The one he never even knew existed until now. He was filled with regret and guilt. He couldn’t be there to support you while you were pregnant, to help you take care of the baby, to support you whenever life got too much, to make sure you could afford anything you needed, it hurt. He was supposed to be there for you, but he’d been too much of a pussy to ever try.

So here he stands, holding his baby girl for the first time, sobbing as he admires her. His baby. His little girl. His.

omg i’m so sorry this took forever nonnie!!! i procrastinated way too much!!! i’ve just been super busy with a lot of things, mostly stress and sleeping. life’s been difficult!!! i’ve been falling asleep far earlier than i normally do and i’ve been unable to do most things i enjoy!!! but i really hope you like this!!! <3333 also, when i imagined price crying i imagined my dad. my dad doesn’t really do crying and stuff, like most dads, and the last time i saw him cry was because he was shown so much love by people he never thought even cared about him. it was so sweet, and so that’s what imagined when price cried <3

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deafeninggardenerpanda · 7 months

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About Kirbypurrs:

Recently, they made a post talking about a targeted smear campaign against them. As someone who used to be a close friend of theirs, I wanted to share my experiences.

On the surface they're certainly charismatic and easy to talk to, but they've never been able to hold down any relationship deeper than that due to their own faults. In all the time I've known them personally, they've shown to be nothing but an incredibly self-absorbed, toxic, and manipulative person who is unable to accept fault or responsibility for a situation they caused or got wrapped into of their own volition. Time and time again I've given them chances and chances and tried to reach out to them and be understanding and thought the best of them only to be let down by them as a friend and told, actually, I'm the problem, no matter what that situation is. If you try to come up to them about a concern, or tell them you they shouldn't do whatever thing, they will apologize to your face, but in reality, they'll always claim it was a You problem. For example, one time Purrs broke a preestablished rule of our friend group chat. We had that rule written down and put in pins, even. When I told them to stop, they made it out to be me "not letting them speak when something bad happened to them again" and that I was being mean to them by telling them to stop in the first place. This is the kind of person Purrs is. They never apologized about their actions and still think that I wronged them to this day.

Purrs claims that no one has ever come up to them telling them what the issue is. This is BLATANTLY untrue. It is a long, long pattern spanning many years with them that they will avoid confrontation at any costs, even if that confrontation is as simple as a "hey, could you not do this?". They have ghosted people for coming up to them about concerns, and will often dodge around the concern in the first place. Purrs if you're reading this, I have personally tried to reach out to you about concerns only for you to say "I would tell you if I had a problem with you" and then go to the extent of leaving voice chats when I join, softblocking me from your priv, and actively avoiding me wherever I am, without warning or explanation, all for having the audacity to ask you if there was an issue in the first place. And I am not the first person you have done this to, by far. I have personally witnessed you do this to another person not including me, just in the slightly more than a year we were friends. I have spoken to people who were friends with you years before I was friends with you who had the same experience. You have told us stories of how "overbearing" and "clingy" others have been in the past for daring to constantly ask if you had an issue with them due to your poor treatment of them. And despite your claimed "I would tell you if I had a problem with you" attitude, I personally have seen you actively avoid Another two people when they tried to be friendly with you, only for you to shittalk them to absolute hell in our friend group chat about things they could never have known were rubbing you the wrong way, or about things that were, quite frankly, stupid of you to make their fault anyways. Remember that time you got mad at someone because their headcanons were getting more attention than yours? Remember that time you hated someone's guts and ranted about them on multiple occasions in our group chat because you were upset they didn't use tone tags, and then when I said "You should tell them you need tone tags" you got pissed at me instead for not letting you vent? Good times /s

Purrs does not care about fixing problems any problems they cause. They are one of the most hypocritical people I have ever known. If you ever try to act like everything is anything but rainbows and sunshine, they will distance yourself from you and shittalk you behind your back before you even realize. They are the one that will make all these false and exaggerated claims about others. I have witnessed it again and again over situations I was there for, even. Again Purrs, if you are reading this, despite what you think and what you keep telling people, I'm not the reason this supposed smear campaign of yours has come up again. Everyone who speaks ill of you does so because of their own experiences with you. Everyone who I have spoken to about you did not have their opinion changed because of me; those were always their experiences from the start. I just made them realize that this has always been a pattern with you. I'm not going to say that I have never been in the wrong ever, and there are times I genuinely believe you've been unfairly treated and gotten the short end of the stick, but overall in this situation, I know that I am in the right due to the sheer amount of people you've fucked over the exact same way you have me. You are a shitty friend and a shitty person. I cannot express the countless amount of people you have fucked up badly by betraying our trust. It would do everyone well to stay away from you.

To anyone else who has had bad experiences with Purrs, I encourage you to state them on my post. Their behavior has always been a trend, but for the most part, everyone affected has been courteous enough to keep it in the private space. I am done with them playing the victim and I am done with others being hurt by them.

#negative

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