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miguel-ohara-lover · 8 months

Note

Badboy!miguel x nerdygirl reader

Where like badboy!miguel has an interest into this one specific nerd (which is reader) always trying get her attention,doing anything to impress her,even when she clearly doesn't want to deal with him, and that just get miguel to play harder,until one day he saw reader laughing and smile hard while blushing mess with an boy,causing anger to boil inside of him,veins popping but he doesn't show it,he wait until the end of the day and beat the hell of the boy, and grabing reader an pinned her down to an wall dealing her with his large body, this makes her scared and feel small she never saw him so angry before.

You could put nfsw if you'll like

Oh boy the one everyone’s craving… that’s a lot of pressure haha

Head Over Heels

(Badboy!Miguel x Nerdy!F!Reader)

CW: NSFW, yandere type shit, beating, too big, college, dirty talk in Spanish (all characters are well over 18)

Random note: I know you didn’t say it specifically but “Badboy” and “nerdy” makes me think school so college? Yeah idk sorry-

Miguel O’Hara watched as you walked through the courtyard. He loved to watch your skirt bounce, the pleated fabric swaying as you so elegantly made your way across campus. There were practically hearts in his eyes as his gaze never left your gorgeous form. You never noticed him of course. Part of him wished you would. But the other part was happy with his little secret. Stalking was such an ugly word, but how else would one define his actions?

[I wanted to be with you alone And talk about the weather But traditions I can trace against the child in your face Won't escape my attention]

There were times he did try, tried to get you to even look at him. Those weeks he felt particularly desperate. His throat was dry, skin warm to the touch. It was as if he were sent into a heat. Those days he couldn’t stay away, couldn’t stay in the bushes watching silently. Miguel would get close to you, enough to brush against you and take in the sweet scent of your shampoo.

[You keep your distance via the system of touch And gentle persuasion I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much? Oh, you're wasting my time You're just, just, just wasting time]

“Oh- sorry!” You looked up at him, apologizing for bumping into his arm. You hadn’t known at the time it was on purpose.

His face flushed as he looked down at you, your voice sent shocks through his body. “It… it’s alright.” He managed to mutter as you walked away, having seen your friends approaching.

That one encounter played in his mind on repeat over and over again. The one time you had spoken to him. You were so sweet, so kind to him, it made his dick twitch in his pants. Your voice was like music to his ears, he couldn’t get enough of it. Until then he had been content just watching you from affair. Now, he needs to hear you. He needs to hear that angelic voice.

[Something happens and I'm head over heels I never find out until I'm head over heels Something happens and I'm head over heels Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart Don't, don't, don't throw it away]

It soon developed into Miguel not being so hidden. After months of stalking, he finally started making real moves. He liked bringing you gifts, offering you rides places, offering to help with your assignments. You accepted, of course, who wouldn’t accept such kind gestures. He seemed like a lovely friend. You thought that’s all it was, a new friendship blooming, and that he was just a generous man. You thanked him many times, and he’d always respond with something about it being no big deal, and that he just likes seeing you smile.

His response was bullshit. It was a big deal. It was a huge deal to him. Every tiny action was important to him. Hearing you call him a friend, a pal, a buddy… It drove him mad. He wanted you to want him. He needed you to need him. He needed you, needed your body, your voice, your touch… He would do anything. No matter how obvious he made it, you never caught on. Perhaps you did and were just playing hard to get. He wasn’t sure. But either way, he hated it.

Miguel brought you flowers, chocolates, made valentines day such a big deal. He even called your little get togethers “dates”. He got no response, which made him more desperate. This you caught onto and started to irritate you. You loved Miguel dearly, but only as a friend. He never seemed to get that. He just wasn’t your type. He’s the leather-jacket-motorcycle-riding-cigarette-smoking “bad boy” of the university. You’d much rather stay in your dorm reading a nice book or finishing up your assignments. Not galivanting around town on a bike that is super dangerous while smoking which is also super dangerous and scaring the weaker students.

You hoped one day he’d move on, and even tried to set him up with one of your friends. She seemed much more his style, “goth” as you called it. She was much more punk than “goth” but didn’t care enough to correct your misunderstanding. They seemed to get along well. They hung out a few times, and she started to look forward to seeing him. You thought maybe he finally would move on, and so could you. She would always call you to talk about how much fun they had, how he took her for late night drives on his bike and such.

Even with this new friend he had, Miguel still wanted you. His persistence never let up; he still wanted you. So, when he saw you in the courtyard with a handsome fellow, his arm draped around your shoulders, he was filled with rage. An intense fury filled him, fiery passion burned within as he watched you. Someone was touching his girl. He couldn’t stand that.

The longer he watched, the angrier he became. Who did this guy think he was? He didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve to see that smile, to hear your angelic laugh. You giggled at whatever this dickhead was telling you. Miguel scoffed to himself. What could he say that earned a laugh from you? No one knew you like he did. He certainly wouldn’t let this dick get away with this. Miguel wouldn’t- no, couldn’t let him get away with being so handsy, so touchy so… affectionate with his girl.

You blushed as this man talked to you, his voice so smooth and sultry. Miguel hated it. He hated seeing another man make your cheeks flush. He wanted that to be him. He would make sure it was him, no one else. No one else could even look at you, touch you, make you feel oh so good like he could. You didn’t know it yet, but no one would be as good to you as Miguel. Only Miguel. He needed to do something.

That night, he followed your new boytoy back to the men’s dorms. Miguel Stalked behind this man for a good ten minutes before pulling him down an unlit hallway, covering his mouth with a large hand to hide any screams. He struggled and strained against Miguel but was helpless in that tight grip. Miguel pushed him to the ground and started kicking him repeatedly, saying things about you being his and only his. He repeated phrases about not going near you again, never speaking to you again, not even looking at you or passing you in the hallway. You belonged to him.

After the attack he left the guy laying there on the ground, bloody and severely bruised… and maybe with a broken rib or two just to really get the message across. Now he had to find you. He needed to. He needed to see you, to hold you in his arms. He’s sure you’ll need comfort when you realize your boy toy is ghosting you, and he’s just the man to provide said comfort.

Miguel grinned when he saw you making your way to your dorm. You were alone. Perfect. He made his way over to you, coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. The gesture made your heart jump. A million thoughts ran through your hand, wondering if you were being attacked or if your boy toy was trying to scare you. He leaned down and nuzzled his face against your neck. That’s when you saw his hair and caught the familiar smell of Miguel. He smelt of subtle cologne and smoke.

“Miguel? What are you doing?” You turned your head to look at him. He didn’t reply as his hands wandered over you. As much as you hated to admit it, this was kind of hot… His hands were so big, and glided so expertly over your frame, over every curve. They cupped your breasts perfectly, and you let out a quiet moan as he started to knead gently. “M-Mig… let’s take this somewhere more private-” Before you finished your sentence, he scooped you up in those strong arms and carried into a darker hallway.

“This’ll do, cariño.” He growled into your ear. His large body pressed you into the wall, making you unable to escape now. He towered over you, hands on either side of your head to keep you right where he wanted you. You blushed as you looked up at him, a playful smirk on his lips. Miguel leaned down and kissed you passionately, a hand moving to cup your cheek as the other made its way down to your skirt. He pushed the fabric up your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. You returned the kiss, your arms reaching around his neck to keep him close.

You gave into him, let him do what he wanted despite every moral instinct in you saying this is wrong. You had always thought you could never be with someone like Miguel, that you two were just too different for each other. But fuck… the way his hands moved… all those ideals of what the perfect guy for you was crumbled away, replaced by the thought that the only one for you was Miguel. He had succeeded in doing exactly what he wished, he wanted you to be only his, and he got that.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt a thick finger rub against your wet panties. Miguel smirked when he felt just how soaked you were, pulling your panties to the side and dragging a finger through your slick folds. You shuddered and let out a moan as his finger grazed your clit.

“Qué dulces sonidos, mami.” Miguel groaned in your ear as he traced circles around your clit, listening to the heavenly moans leaving your mouth. Your hand quickly moved to his waistline, fumbling with his belt haphazardly as you urgently tried to free what you so desperately wanted. He chuckled at your desperation, bringing his hand down to assist you. He slid his belt off, letting you drag his pants and boxers down. You watched as his erection sprang free, face flushed red as the wetness between your thighs increased.

He smirked and pressed against your body more, his cock sliding between your folds, He covered his length in your slick before pressing the tip to your hole. Fuck, he’s big… Almost too big… You thought to yourself. Miguel knew this would be a tight squeeze, but he didn’t care anymore. You cried out as he shoved his erection inside you, stretching your hole so much with barely any time to adjust. He groaned as your walls contracted around him more, and he captured your lips in another kiss to quiet you down a bit.

You moaned into his mouth as he pushed into you further and held one of your legs up, allowing him to slide even deeper. Miguel continued to push in until his hips met yours, giving you time to adjust. That pause only lasted a few seconds, however, before he started thrusting. His pace was slow to begin with, he loved listening to your whines and moans as his length moved in and out of your cunt. He trailed kisses down your jawline and neck, his hands holding onto your waist. He groaned as your walls tightened around him more, his nails digging into the soft skin of your waist as he tries to keep himself composed.

He picked up his speed, fucking you into the bricks. He didn’t want to finish before you, even though he felt practically edged since he first laid eyes on you. He was determined to make you finish first, to prove you needed him just as much as he needed you. You gasped and moaned as his pace quickened, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over. You felt a familiar heat forming in your gut and he rutted into you like a desperate animal, your hands gripping his jacket to keep him close.

“M-Miguel…” You moaned and your grip tightened a bit. You felt so close already, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. He felt it too and tried so hard to keep himself together. His hips stuttered, thrusts losing the pattern he set. Your voice didn’t help, hearing you say his name so cute and sweet just fueled the flames of his lust. Miguel dipped his head down, hiding his face against your neck.

Miguel groaned and grunted as he felt his release approaching. You gasped and moaned as your orgasm ripped through you. He groaned when he felt your walls contract once more, causing him to release inside you as his hips stuttered more. He fucked you slow and deep, pushing his cum in further as it spilled inside you. You rode out your orgasms together, his hands moving down to your ass and kneading gently as you both came down from your highs.

You whimpered a little as the overstimulation, his cock slowing to a stop before he pulled out. He fixed your panties, keeping all that cum inside you, and he let your skirt fall back down around your thighs. Your skin felt so hot, every brush of his fingers sent a wave of heat through your body. You’re in a daze as Miguel fixes his pants.

“My dorm or yours?” His voice brought you out of your daze and you looked up at him.

“Hm? You know we can’t have each other in our dorms.” You chuckled a little.

“Like I care about that.” Miguel smirked a little as he pulled you into a kiss.

————

@theaussiedragon @jukioku @https-gassen @your-antares-universe @camzzn @kaqua @aug-ust69 @zaunsin @honeycomb-biscuits @lookingforgoodthings @lalalalala-888 @bustmybrain @downbadforurmom @m3wh0 @loosecan @qiaipia @ozzmodeus-main @nobloggy-onlyread @beingdeluluisthesolulu @whosking @irmiki @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @jasmineandmatcha @bookmark-anon @sarapaprikas-blog @gaby-3 @they-love-snacks @anakinskywalkerwhore @strrchasm @gecko290 @thel0velykey190

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 2 months

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11:37pm | Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

Request: No.

Synopsis: Hyunjin wants to spend the last thirty minutes of his birthday with his love.

Warnings: Established relationship.

Word Count: 754 - this turned out longer than I expected.

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Hyunjin rushed straight from his birthday live to Y/N's apartment, eager to spend the last thirty minutes of his special day with his beloved. Despite exchanging texts and calls throughout the day, it simply wasn't enough for him. Their plans for tomorrow didn't suffice either. He longed to see her, to be in her presence. Due to their hectic work schedules, it had been a whole week since they last met in person. All he wanted for his birthday was to be with her. He made sure to arrive at her apartment by 11:30pm. He would have come sooner, but cutting his birthday live short would have caused some trouble.

The moment he stepped inside, Y/N found herself enveloped in his arms, causing her to almost drop the small cake and flowers she held in her hands.

"Happy Birthday!" she exclaimed with excitement as he released her. "I know you've probably had enough cake, but I wanted to get a small one just for you," she rambled on. "I also got you some flo-"

Her words were abruptly cut off as Hyunjin lips clashed against hers.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice brimming with gratitude as he pulled away from the kiss. "But you didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to do something special for you," she replied, beaming from ear to ear.

"Being with you right now, is all I need,” he says and takes the cake and flowers from her.

Placing the cake and flowers on the table, he notices a large canvas facing backwards leaning against the wall. Curiosity piqued his interest. He takes a step towards the other end of the table. "What's this?"

"Nothing!" Y/N exclaims, a hint of panic in her voice. She hurriedly rushes towards the canvas, snatching it from the table before he can get a hold of it. "It's nothing. You don't want to see it."

"Did you paint something for me, baby?" he asks, his heart swelling with joy at the thought of her creating something special for him. She has always been incredibly supportive and interested in his artwork. She never gets upset when he immerses himself in his makeshift art studio (her spare bedroom) to draw and paint. She encourages him in every way possible, and that's one of the many things he adores about her.

"Define painting something," she cringes, glancing at the painting in her hands.

"I really want to see it," he insists, reaching out for the canvas, only for her to step back, shaking her head.

"Trust me, you don't want to."

He can see the conflict between wanting to show her painting to him and the fear of what his reaction might be. He takes a step closer, gently placing a hand on her arm, trying to reassure her.

"Y/N, you know I love everything you do. From cooking me food to how you paint my nails and everything in between" he pleads, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. “You did it for me right? Please let me see it.”

She hesitates for a moment, her grip on the canvas tightening. Finally, she takes a deep breath, and nods letting him know she did paint it for him. Slowly, she turns the painting around, revealing it to him.

As his eyes fall upon the artwork, his face lights up. She’s unsure why. On the canvas is a mess of colours, some blended together to make other colours. In the center is a giant outline of a heart in black. In the middle of the heart is their initials ‘H.H + L/N Y/N’.

“You did this for me?” he asks, once again. “Baby, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten!”

“I doubt it’s better than the gifts you got from Versace,” she mutters more to herself. “I could have done better.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjin says letting her know that he heard what she said. “This is perfect and so much better than the gifts I got from Versace. You painted this with your own hands. You made it with love. It is by far the best gift I’ve ever gotten. As soon as I get back to the dorms, it’s going on my wall.”

He places the painting back on the table, the canvas facing the right way, so the painting is on display. He pulls Y/N back into his arms and presses another kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replies, kissing him back. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

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konigenblobbity · 11 months

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Metallic Beauties

Hobie Brown x Spidey!F!Reader

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW, nipple piercings, almost skinny dipping, Hobie being an absolute slut for your nipple piercings, tit biting and sucking, nickname

Summary: After a successful mission together, Hobie wants to show you a ‘new spot’ he found. Which turns out to be a rooftop hotel penthouse, with its own private pool. Hobie convinces you to take a relaxed moonlight swim, as both of you begin to strip you remember that you recently got a new accessory. Hobie not having yet seen your new nipple piercings… you can’t wait to see how he reacts.

A/n: Read a work by @murdrdocs about Hobie with a reader with nipple piercings and I was INSPIRED! Definitely check it out —> link. Also! Hobie has my whole heart… love this anti-establishment British heartthrob.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Hobie do a series of dramatic poses between each swing on his web. You had just completed a day long mission with the punk, with expert skill and not a single slip up. Even made sure to keep the anomaly contained to an unexpectedly effective degree. You couldn’t help but share Hobie’s excitement.

Hobie was your closest friend on the team, having joined a few months ago, you were seen as a new recruit, not yet trusted… he didn’t see you like that. Due to Hobie’s lack of interest - more like borderline hatred - for labels, you two weren’t defined… merely thought of yourselves to be ‘close’.

Close being, telling each other anything and everything, having each others backs no matter what, you even getting involved in some of his demonstrations he went to, tending to each other - whether for injuries or… other needs. The two of you were inseparable, but undefined. Even though many of the other spider-people just wished you two would just accept you’re dating.

“Oi love, I wanna show you a lil somthin’, a new spot I’ve been hangin at” his words peaked your interest, and you just nod. At that he begins to swing off in another direction, ducking and weaving through a series of buildings. Trying your best to keep up, your curiosity only grows with each swing.

When he finally stops, he’s standing on the rooftop of a hotel. You land next to him and look around, seeing a large pool, a series of lounge chairs, and even a small seating area with a large fire pit. This ‘new spot’ was a hotel rooftop penthouse suite.

“Well… who did you bribe to be allowed here?” Your tone was playful as he begins to walk towards the pool, you following close behind. He chuckles lowly, and looks over at you, hands on his hips. “What can I say… I’ve got connections.” he peels off his mask and tosses it onto the lounge chair behind him.

“It’s not booked” he adds hoping to calm your slight unease. He didn’t need to use his spidey-senses to know that. Hobie had always been an amazing observer, picking up on the way you slightly shift your weight, how your pick at the fabric of your suit, how your eyes glance away every few seconds. It was easy to notice those things… because he often couldn’t help but observe you.

You take off your mask as well, throwing it on the lounge chair behind you, positioned right next to his. As you watch him strip out of his boots, then his vest and shirt your eyes widen. He notices your shocked expression and chuckles with an amused grin. “What? We just did a mission which’l keep Miguel off our asses for months. I’m just celebratin’, love”

You roll your eyes at his words but can’t help but agree. This mission was a pain and the pool looked really enticing. He continued to strip, peeling his shirt off, and unzipping the top half of his suit. You keep your gaze on him, intending to give him an incredulous look but unable to hide the slight awe in your eyes. You couldn’t help it, although you’d never admit it, Hobie looked good in anything… or even in nothing.

He smirks and jokingly remarks “Close your mouth… it ain’t like you haven’ seen me naked before” and he’s right, you’ve gone skinny dipping before, in fact you’ve both gotten naked on multiple occasion. Strip poker, just happenstance when you’re both high as kites, and times when you both agree the heat in your reality is unbearable.

You scoff “Well Hobie… when you’re right you’re right” before removing your shoes, and any clothes you wore over your suit. Then reaching to your back and unzipping your spider suit. As you pull it down you pause, remembering that you don’t wear a bra underneath the suit, feeling your bare back where the strap would be.

Hobie was just in his boxers now, and after putting his things on his lounge chair, he immediately dives into the water, quite elegantly if you say so yourself. You watched his figure under the water until his head broke through the surface. A hand coming up and rubbing his face.

He still had his jewelry on and the now wet metal glistened under the pool lights. They were a soft blue and lined the pool wall, with some additional lights outside of it. You could only stare as his figure was illuminated in a soft blue, reflecting of his face piercings beautifully. You were only able to break away your gaze when he spoke.

“The waters peak love, hop in before I come up there and throw you in” the lopsided grin on his face made it clear he wasn’t joking. You chuckle but then gulp, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Although he’s seen you naked before, you hadn’t yet told him that recently you got a new little piercing. Well… two new piercings.

They were fully healed now but you only got them a week or so ago. Not having yet found the correct way to tell or show him. You knew he wouldn’t judge, but you weren’t sure whether he’d like them. As much as you tried to convince him otherwise, with snide remarks and playful insults, you were nervous what he thought and truly cared about his opinion.

You turn away from him, showing him your back as you finish unzipping the suit and slip it off. When you turn he groans, his voice low “you bloody tease…” and you just chuckle before retorting back. “You bloody perv…”. You finished getting undressed, standing there only in your panties and jewelry, most of which you stole from him,

You placed your things on the lounge chair next to his, which already had your mask on it. As you were folding your suit and clothes, not wanting them to get wrinkled, there was a soft splash sound behind you. You place your mask on top of the pile of clothes and then turn back to the pool.

“If any of my things get soaked I sw-“ Once you turn back around towards the pool, he was gone. Your smile drops and your brows furrow. You walk to the edge of the pool looking down into it, thinking he was under the water. Your spoke cautiously, searching for him “Hobie? Where’d you go?” No response.

You go to turn around and gasp, suddenly face to face with Hobie. “Took too long. In ya go.” Before you can even react, Hobie pushes you into the pool. You let out a soft yelp and before landing in the pool you can see the smirk on his face.

There’s a loud splash as you fall into the pool, slowly sinking to the bottom, you open your eyes under the water and, in blurry vision, see Hobie dive into the water after you. Once again his dive is graceful, managing to perfectly align his body with yours, parallel to one another.

You watch through blurry vision as he glides up the length of your body, feeling his hands slide up your thighs, hips, and stop at your waist. His gaze focused on your face, until, from his peripheral vision, he catches a glint of light.

Even in his blurry vision he can see it’s coming from your chest. He tilts his head downwards, his eyes moving away from your face. They widened as he spots the two small silver beads in each of your nipples. You don’t have to see clearly to know he’s looking at your tits, your face beginning to feel flush at how entranced he appears to be.

You use his haze to swim away from him, his hands sliding off your waist. You take in a breathe as you resurface out of the water, shaking your head to shake off some of the water on your face. You open your eyes and look forward, watching as Hobie’s head pokes up after yours.

You were both standing in the shallower end of the pool, feet touching the ground, only a mere meter from one another. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he stands tall in front of you, feeling intimidated by his figure looming over you. His eyes were focused back on your piercings, now being able to see them clearly.

“Well well well… when’d you get those done?” You shrug, deciding to play coy. You tilt your head and furrow your brows. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at… what are you referring to?” Unable to hide the sly smirk growing on your face.

You watch as he pokes his cheek with his tongue, his eyes looking back up into yours. His gaze pinning you in place, unable to move from where you stand. He grins and let’s out an amused chuckle. “Tsk. Always so coy” His voice was low, but his accent was thick… he knew how you got whenever he spoke like that.

You watch as he moves towards you, a smirk still plastered on his face and his eyes narrowed. “I’m referring to…” you shudder slightly as his hands slide up your waist again, but then go to grope your breasts, his thumbs softly rubbing on each piercing. “These metallic beauties” his touch has you humming softly and looking into his eyes, his gaze lustful… you can only imagine you look the same.

He leans forward, his face now settling into the crook of your neck as he mumbles against your skin. His breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Hm. Isn’t that interestin’. They feel even better than they look…” His hands move back to your waist and, as if you weight nothing, he lifts you partially out of the water.

Recognizing his action, you know what he wants, you can only give in… wrapping your legs around his waist, allowing his hands to move to your thighs to hold you up. His face now directly in front of your breasts. “I wonder how they taste…” those words made your breath catch in your throat, back arching as his lips latch onto one of your piercings.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue began toying with your piercing. His hands grasp tightly at the flesh of each of your thighs, “God… they taste even better” his soft groan sending vibrations through your entire body. His mouth was doing wonders, being so gentle with your bud, but effortlessly driving you mad with each flick of his sharp tongue.

The way he paused before beginning to lay searing hot licks over the entirety of your nipple with the pad of his tongue. It had you taking in shaky breaths. As his lips wrapped around your bud again. you could feel his coy smirk, clearly loving the reactions he was getting out of you. He took the piercing in between his teeth and that one action had you dizzy.

Loving the mix of pain and pleasure he was giving you. He began to move away, sucking at the piercing, his lips pulling away with a soft pop. You let out a shaky moan, barely audible but he heard it. And he wanted to hear more… loving the way he felt your body lightly tremble in his arms. The mere thought that he had this much power over you… it had him hazy and his only focus right now was you.

“You’ve been naughty haven’t you? Hiding these from me…” he moves his lips to your other breast, not wanting to leave it left out. He leans in, sticking out his tongue and softly circling the piercing, dragging a whine out of you. “Should’ve asked me to pierce them for you. Would’ve made them look perfect” he then closes his lips around the second piercing. Teasing it the same as he did the last.

You look down at him, his eyes immediately locking with yours. Your own glossed over with pleasure, his half-lidded, focusing his energy on perfectly teasing your bud. “A-are they not perfect?” You question. Not intending to be playful, but rather serious; genuinely asking him. Wanting to know what he thought, and getting tense at the idea that he didn’t think they were perfect.

“Aw… of course they are love. In fact, they look absolutely fucking ravishing on you” he begins to softly kiss your piercing, before going to kiss around it as well. Leaving open mouth kisses, and soft purple bruises in the process. “I just can’t help but be envious… knowing someone else got the pleasure of piercing them” he then bites at the skin of your breast.

You gasp lightly, your eyes fluttering closed again. Biting your lip as he takes the piercing back in his mouth, speaking against your flesh. “Watching you strip, then being able to praise you for stayin’ nice and still, watchin’ your face contort from pain… fuck darling what I would give to’ve been there” each of his words went straight to your head, making you more dizzy by the second.

“W-well… actually. I did them myself” you smirk and look down at him again. He pulls away from your chest, his mouth falling agape, his gaze locking on yours. A grin slowly gracing his lips. “Well fuck…” he moves a hand up to the back of your head, pulling your head down, crashing his lips against yours.

“My brave little bird aren’t you?” He mumbles against your lips, there’s something about the way he says it that has you whimpering against his lips. The way he calls you ‘his’… even if he didn’t like labels of what your relationship was, your heart sings at such praise from him. You softly nod your head, moaning against his plush lips and then feeling him smirk against yours.

His hand grasped your hair, pulling your lips from his for a moment, looking deep into your eyes, his own filled with desire. But you saw… something new. An aura of possessiveness, of unfiltered want… but what caught your eye the most was the smallest glint of pure affection and admiration.

“That’s you isn’t it hm? My bird… my best bird. All mine.”

#konigenblobbity #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv x you #astv fic #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie atsv #hobie across the spiderverse #fanfiction #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfic #hobie x you #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse

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writer-komaru · 11 months

Text

˚.* ꒰ঌ✦໒꒱ *.˚ Sin Soaked Silk .ೋ .ೃ˚, ੈ ׂׂ ೄ’

✧Rating: Smut

✧Characters: Simeon

✧Word Count: 4k

✧Summary: On one faithful evening while you and Simeon are hanging out in his room like normal, you notice the revealing clothes this supposed angel of has on. How ironic, you think. It would be a shame if… someone were to, well, run a hand over his exposed sides… maybe a finger down his lovely back… if he didn’t want to get touched, why does he keep everything out in the open, huh? Simeon has to just sit there and use all his strength he has to fight back against these impulses. What kind of angel would he be if he gave into sin? But… it’s just so tempting… Why must you be so alluring….?

Times like this really made you appreciate the life you were blessed with. You, a normal human, were sitting in the bedroom of an Angel. Not metaphorically, a literal, real-life angel. But you were pretty used to it at this point. Ever since you discovered the worlds of Devildom and the Celestial Realm, you’ve been met with otherworldly encounters with strange beings one after the other, beings humans don’t even have the mental capacity to understand. But, as Solomon always told you, you were special. Your attention suddenly snapped back to Simeon as he gently tapped your thigh.

“Is everything alright, MC?” He asks kindly.

“Yeah I'm fine, just kinda got distracted. Anyways, what were we doing?” You turn your body to the right to face him.

He chuckles, “We weren’t doing anything in particular, but I can find something for us to do if you'd like,” He stands up and walks over to the large darkwood bookcase over in the corner of his dimly lit room. As he examines them, your eyes unintentionally fall on the exposed state of his back, just barely covered by the see-through material of his robe. His muscles were so defined, like an intricately sculpted marble statue. For an angel, you would have thought he’d do his best to cover up and look presentable in a formal sense, not wear the most scanty outfit known to mankind. You giggled to yourself as he returned carrying two identical books.

“You seem rather happy about something. Wanna tell me about it?” He smiled at you while laying one of the books on your lap.

“On, it’s nothing,” you stifle another giggle and pick up the hardcover book. The title reads, If the Orchid Petals Fall, in fancy, shiny letters. The cover is decorated with numerous ivory petals, surrounding the hunched figure of an angel, its wings seemingly transforming into the flurry of petals. It was quite a beautiful cover.

“What’s this book about?” You flip it over and admire the back.

“It’s something Micheal gifted me a while back. He told me it reminded him of me for some reason, but even after reading it on my own, I still can't quite understand his reasoning,” Simeon hums as he glances over the first few pages, “I thought maybe if we read it together I could get a second opinion and decipher what he was trying to tell me.”

“I see. Reading isn’t really my thing, but this book does sound pretty interesting. I’ll give it a shot,” You flash him a smile.

“Thank you kindly, MC. I do have to warn you, Micheal has a very… Interesting choice in books, and that doesn’t exclude this one. I think it would be best if I just wait here while you read,” He scratches the back of his neck shyly.

You raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean by interesting?”

“You'll soon discover for yourself,” A faint blush dusts his cheeks. You cock your head at him and continue reading. It isn't long before you discover what Simeon was hinting at. This book seems to be dealing with some very sinful topics for having such an innocent looking cover. The angel next to you peeks over at the page you’re on and immediately looks away, his blush only getting deeper. It’s almost amusing. Could this be Micheal’s plan all along; give Simeon an inappropriate book and tell him it has some special meaning so he has no choice but to read it over and over again? What a trickster…

“Maybe it would be best if we do something else, something we both can do together?” He laughs nervously and stands up, reaching out a hand to take back the book. You quickly finish the page you were on and give it back to him. As he puts it back on the shelf, a rather exciting idea comes to you. If Micheal really was doing this to prank Simeon, it wouldn’t hurt taking part, would it? He reaches up to the top shelf to insert the books in their rightful place, unknowingly flexing his back muscles all for your enjoyment. With a devious smirk, you slowly stalk up to him and run a light finger down the middle of his spine. A large shiver runs down his back as he releases a small gasp.

His head whips around to face you, “W-What was that for?”

“Hehehe, my bad. It was an accident,” you shrug it off.

“That didn’t seem like an accident,” he narrows his eyes and turns around to face you, “Are you playing some sort of prank on me?”

“Of course not, who do you take me for? Mammon?” You cross your arms confidently. Your eyes wander over his body, soon locking onto the small side windows his shirt can’t seem to cover up. He follows your eyes and tilts his head curiously.

“I gotta question, Simeon…” you slowly inch closer, causing him to inch back and lean against the bookcase, “Why do angels like to wear such immodest clothes?”

“That seems rather inappropriate, don’t you think?” He chuckles softly and looks away, unable to meet your determined gaze. He felt almost helpless.

“It’s an honest question. You and Raphael both seem to wear clothes that I thought were unbefitting of an Angel. Don’t you get in trouble or is it normal for an Angel to wear very little?” You lean closer to his ear, making his body twitch slightly.

“Well uh… it’s kind of a sign of purity for us angels to wear outfits that might be seen as… um… revealing. It’s not something I usually mind, to be honest, it’s a lot more comfortable than wearing large amounts of bulky clothes,” he smiles, sweating nervously.

“I see… I guess that makes sense. But it kinda leaves you a bit vulnerable, doesn’t it? What if someone came around and… did something like this,” you finally rest your hands on his tantalizing waist, causing him to let out a small, surprised gasp. He tried to flinch away from your touch, but you stayed persistent. That’s as until he peeled your soft hands off of him and held them on his own.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I can’t really allow you to t-touch me there,” he looks at you apologetically.

“And why not?” You whine, looking back to his gorgeously exposed skin.

“Because I’m an Angel. I’m not really allowed to engage in such private acts like that. It’s… uh…” his voice trails off as your hands slip out of his grasp and cup his face. It feels very warm, obviously caused by the wide blush on his cheeks.

“Come on, Simeon. Do you think I don’t see the blush you’re trying to ignore? You like this, don’t you?” You tease and rub your thumbs over his cheeks.

“I-it doesn’t really matter if I like it or not, it’s not allowed. In order to represent the goodwills of the celestial realm, all angels, no matter their rank, have to abide by the same rules. It’s our law,” his voice almost makes it sound like he’s begging you.

“But it’s just a small touch to your waist. Why is that so prohibited?” Your hands somehow find their way back to his sensitive sides, making him shiver yet again, “I’ve hugged you here many times before, why is this any different?”

“B-because this obviously is way different than a hug, this is… this is… this is dangerous,” he bites his lip and grabs your wrists to pull your hands away yet again.

“Why is it so dangerous? It’s just a touch~,” you whisper teasingly in his ear.

“You know what you’re doing. I told you, you can’t do this, it’s… ah…” he freezes as a small moan leaves him. Did he… did he really just? You smirk sinisterly, “Oh?~ what was that noise for?”

“I-it was nothing, now please, let go of me,” he tries even harder to get your teasing hands off his body, but it’s clearly unsuccessful. He gets more and more frantic as your fingers inch up his body.

“Ah! P-please, you can’t do this, if the higher ups find out I gave into something frivolous like this, I’ll get in so much trouble,” he begs and squirms under your touch. It felt so wrong, so clearly wrong. A pure angel like him being touched in such a risqué way like this, he had to do something before he made an even worse mistake.

Suddenly, you feel your hands yanked off his body as he darts out from the vulnerable position against the bookcase in a symphony of fluttering feathers. You look over to your left to see a very flustered Simeon racing for the door.

“Simeon, I wouldn't do that if I were you. If anyone else sees you like that, you’ll ask questions. And besides, I know you’ve got to be at least curious,” you state quickly in hopes to catch him in time before he escapes. He freezes yet again, you were clearly right. His breathing was ragged, his cheeks were stained wine red, his pupils were dilated. The only thing he could do was try to escape but risk bumping into someone else, or stay here with you and risk falling into your advances. But… your advances… Even though he knew it’s dangerous, he seemed rather intrigued. He weighs his options and reluctantly lets go of the door handle.

“Just… don’t go around telling any of the others about this. I don’t want to lose my position,” he sighs as he walks over to the couch and sits down.

“Fine with me. This can just stay between us,” you smile sweetly and rest a hand against his thigh. It was pretty exhilarating thinking that you’ll be this Angel’s first taste of something sinful. He looks at you with fearfully innocent eyes as you shift over onto his lap. You were so close, he swears he could almost feel your heartbeat. As your hands found purchase on his waist yet again, his mind called out to him. This was clearly wrong, clearly inappropriate for an Angel like him. He was supposed to be a being above desires and vices, he was supposed to set an example for humans and angels alike. Maybe, just maybe if he held out a bit longer, he could find another opening to escape. He could quickly run out of the door and hide out in the kitchen for a while until his aroused body finally calmed down. Yes, that’s just what he will do-

His thoughts dissolved like melted butter as your sinful fingers slid under his skin tight black shirt and by the gods did it set his souls alight. His breathing picked up as a whimper escaped his lips.

“Wha.. what… are you…” he could barely stammer out a complete sentence as your fingers inched further and further up. He looked completely dazed, biting his lip, eyes unforced, chest heaving. It was absolutely gorgeous.

“Oh? Has the pure angel Simeon lost the ability to speak already? Too lost in the feelings of desire?” You teased him. So cruel, worse than cruel; he was helpless and vulnerable under you and you were enjoying it. He felt weak, like such a weak angel for allowing a human to come onto him like this and even go so far as to enjoy it. His body was sending mixed messages to him, to both run away and give in at the same time.

“Ngh,” he gasps as he realizes how dangerously close your fingertips were getting to his chest. No, no no he can’t let this happen. If you touch him there, there’s absolutely no way he’s going to be able to fight back. His trembling hands try to reach up for your wrists.

“Please… don’t.. n-not there…” he begged with an airy voice.

“Shhhh pretty angel, just relax. There’s no use fighting this, just let me show you the world of pleasure you’ve been missing out on,” you smirk down at him, causing him to gulp nervously. Pleasure? H-he can’t, he can’t give in to one of the major deadly sins like pleasure. He has to be strong, for him, for his friends, for every being in the celestial realm.

He whines and tries to squirm free, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Can't give into this, I’m an Angel, I’m an Angel, I’m an…” his eyes almost roll back as the pads of your fingers finally reach his delicate chest, gently swiping over his nipples. An elicit moan finally leaves his mouth as his brain turns to mush.

“See? Isn’t it good?” You coo and cup the expanses of his chest. Is this really what he’s been fighting against for oh how many years? This feeling… it’s euphoric… so strangely euphoric, like nothing this poor angel has ever felt. Why does it feel so good? It’s just his chest. Another louder whiny moan escapes him as you press harder.

“You really haven’t been touched anywhere like here before, have you? Have you been fighting it back or have you just never felt the urge to have these places touched?” You whisper vulgarly in his ear.

“Angels… are supposed… to suppress these feelings… never give in… or else it’s a sin…” he explains in between heavy breaths, “When I… would feel… like touching… I… would just read a book… until it goes away…”

“Aw, that sounds so annoying. Have you been close to giving in before?” You smirk as you give a small squeeze to his chest, delighted as the moan you're gifted with.

“Nghhh... hah… mhm. I’ve gotten… close… on days where uh… uh…” he stammers, looking away shyly.

“Come on, if you tell me the truth, I’ll reward you?” You coo to him. Reward…? That sounds interesting.

“Well uh… on days where I would feel… especially p-pent up, I… I would… sometimes have thoughts… of… someone… helping me with it…” he admits, clearly ashamed of himself for having such fantasies as an Angel.

“Ohhh?~ So you fantasize about someone coming along and relieving you of your impure urges?~” You hum fondly, a spark of excitement enters your mind. Could it be possible he had a…

“Would you like to tell me more about this particular idea?” You ask sweetly, rolling his hardened nipples in between your fingers.

“Aghh… hah… that feels… ah, a-anyways, it’s not really something I think I should say out loud. It’s rather… profane…” he mumbled with embarrassment. What kind of angel was he, being groped by a human and telling them his dirty fantasies? It’s so wrong but… something about the wrongness of it all causes him to twitch desperately in his tight slacks. Your eyes widen as you feel the twitch and press right against your backside.

“Hehehe, you’re a dirtier angel than I thought,” you tease as you squeeze his nipples, “Don’t tell me you like being touched like this? Does it excite you?” You tease as you give his nipples a light squeeze. His eyes shut tight as he whines.

“Mmm… I wonder. You’ve had your chances to escape and you’re definitely capable enough to overpower me, yet here you are, laying still as I taint your pure body. Why could that be…” you faint a curious expression as you tease the poor angel even further. You're pretty sure you know the reason why, but using the truth against him to exploit him a little more is far more interesting. You press your thumbs harshly against his nipples.

“Aghhhhh.. p-please…” he has no idea if he’s begging for you to be gentle or rougher.

“I think I’ll just let actions speak louder than words~” you smirk devilishly as you finally give an experimental grind of your hips down onto his aching erection. Simeon feels every nerve in his body light on fire with a burning passion, releasing an embarrassing loud moan as he grasps your waist. Your smirk widens as his lovely reaction; it was everything you could have hoped it would be. Desires of lust surge through his body, all the temptations he's resisted for millennia return to him full force to leave his poor, desperate body aching for relief.

“Mmmm someone’s pent up, look at how hard you are,” one of your hands sneaks down to pull down his white pants and expose his throbbing dick. He groans, it’s so fucking hard and leaking everywhere, it’s so embarrassing.

“You've been trying to resist it for so long, what would happen if I…” you sinisterly brush a finger over the tip as it twitches even harder.

“Aaghh… ahhh…” He moans.

“Oh? Did that feel good?” He coo.

“Ahhah… ahhh… y-yeah… d-damn… I can’t believe… this is happening…” he internally curses himself for falling victim to you. He watches weakly as your hand wraps around it and starts pumping him slowly. This feeling, oh gods, this feeling is something he’s dreamed about for so long. He knew he shouldn’t but having to ignore it for so long has put some rather perverted thoughts in his mind. And all those daydreams and fantasies were finally coming true. He couldn’t hide the goofy smile on his face as your hand squeezes harder.

“Hehehe~ I guess instead of fantasizing about an unknown face helping you with your urges, it will be my face instead,” you cooed, greeted with a deep groan in response.

“Oh? You like that? Like it when I say you’ll only be able to think of me and this moment from now on?” You chuckle as his hips jump up to catch your strokes. He nods, completely lost in the pleasure.

“Am I going to make you obsessed? Is that what it is?” You move your panties to the side as soon as his head leans back.

“Yeah… ahh… ah! Aghh?! W-wait, is that your?” He whines loudly as your dripping, gorgeous pussy rubs over his tip. He hates to say the lords name in vain but god fucking damn it… it felt so, so good. He wants to push in, he wants to feel it squeeze, he desperately wants to go in. His poor, one pure mind is only filled with thoughts and urges to sink his aching dick into your mouth-wateringly tight and wet pussy. He wants it, so, so bad, please, please give it to him. He doesn’t care what happens, he needs it too bad. And as soon as you grant his wishes and sit down on him, he keens. His nails dig into your hips as he thrusts into you like a desperate animal in rut. He doesn’t even know fully what he’s doing, he just needs to fuck, more than anything this world has to offer.

“Aghhh someone’s being eager, couldn’t even wait Ahh, a little bit longer. Aghh you’re so big… aghhh, just keep going,” you wrap your arms around his neck and ride his dick with all the strength you’ve been holding back, lifting your body up and sliding back down.

“Nghh- Hahh, Aaghhhh!!~” Simeon moans in between sobs and heavy pants, flipping you over so your face presses into the velvety couch and your ass is raised right into the air. You look so alluring, so vulnerable like that… he can’t control himself as he mounts you and pushes his twitching cock into your quivering pussy. He sobs and cries as he clings to your hips. Even if this stopped for just a second he thinks he might die. It’s just so good, so tight, so warm. He just needs more, more, more, he can’t help himself anymore.

“Aghhh please please please, I can’t stop, can’t stop!!~” he cries out as he goes impossibly faster, making your eyes roll back as he fucks right against your cervix. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he pushed in further and further, losing the last remaining traces of purity.

“I’m sorry… aghhhhh I-I’m sor… sorryyy… aghhhh!~” His voice cracks as he humps your pussy faster and faster, toes curling each time it squeezes around him. Could this be the message the book was trying to give him? What kind of message even was this? He doesn’t even know anymore, all he knows is he needs to keep thrusting into you until his desires finally relax.

Little did he know this was just the start of it all. He realized it as soon as his hot cum stained the walls of your cunt. This wouldn't be enough for him. It would never be enough. He fucked you over and over and over again, on almost every since surface he could find in his room, trying to relieve the prominent desire that itched just below his skin. He just couldn’t stop, the poor angel was completely enthralled by you, he just couldn’t control it. As your blurry eyes, aching with tears looked back up at the once sweet face that would always smile back at you, you instead saw a darkened, lustful face staring back at you with new light green and black horns standing proudly on his head and a pair of jet black feathered wings fluttering behind him. Maybe playing a prank on him wasn’t such a good idea, you thought to yourself as you felt his dick growing inside of you.

“Aghhh… so good… never… gonna stop…” He heaved as he squeezed your hips harder.

But you gotta admit, it felt good as hell. Its length stretched you out so well, reaching the deepest parts of your pussy your fingers could only dream of touching. You couldn’t stop cumming, over and over again, you were honestly beginning to lose consciousness.

In your delirious state of ecstasy, you pick up on the slight turning of the door handle out of the corner of your eye. On the other side of the door, Solomon was mere seconds away from walking in on an angel falling victim to sin.

“S-Simeo- aghhh simeon t-the d- nghh the door!!” You stammer out between strained moans but it’s already too late.

“N-ngh?” Simeon’s head snapped over to the white haired man that entered the room. His wings immediately wrapped around the two of you to block your leaking bodies from the intruder's view. His scared, sharp eyes peeled from in between his feathers as they ruffled in intimation, releasing a soft growl. Yet through all of this he kept up the same back breaking pace against you poor, abused pussy.

“Uhhhhh… is this a bad time?” Solomon snickered bashfully as a sweltering dark aura surrounded him. In retaliation, a blinding light radiated from Simeon’s eyes and glittering white feathers circled around him. You whined nervously at the impending fight that seemed ready to explode at any second, till suddenly, in a flash of dark red and pink energy, Simeon was wrapped tightly in thorny, blood tinted vines. He groaned in pain before his thrusts came to a halt and his head slumped over.

“Phew, that could have gone a whole lot worse. I have no clue what you two were doing in here and I don’t think I wanna ask. Hope it was fun though,” he started walking back out the door, “Oh, one thing. Because of the magic I used, he might be a bit… ‘excited’ when he wakes up. Just give him a good ‘release’ and he’ll knock right out. When he wakes up again he'll be right back to normal. Good luck, my pupil~” he gave a delightful wave before leaving you all alone with the problem you created. With a shiver you gently tried to cup his cheek, only to jump back at the bright pink eyes that flashed open. He easily ripped apart the vines and smirked at you with a look of pure dominance, a look in pure contrast to the sweet smiles he used to give you.

His voice came out as a low growl, “You… look… delicious. I… need you… so fucking bad right now…” a terrifying shiver shook your body in place.

As Solomon blissfully skipped down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, he chuckled to himself when he heard your screams of fear and pleasure rattling the walls.

“Hehe, those two must be having fun. Maybe I’ll get to join them next time~”

Reblog + Comment + Like if you wanna see more obey me or Simeon specific posts!~

(Phewww finally done and kinda happy with it! Next is either thirteen or another idea I’ve had recently~ you’ll find out soon enough <3 also comment if you wanna join or leave tag list)

{Tags 🏷️: @letgobro }

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #Simeon #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #obey me smut #obey me x you #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #fem reader #afab reader #enjoy corrupting this pretty angel boy <3

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mimicdive · 11 days

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Proof of Concept?

Summary: Bi!Reader feels insecure in their sexuality and Spencer offers validation. Word Count: 933 Content Warnings: referenced/implied biphobia, no pronouns are used but reader is AFAB, mostly dialogue Author's Note: written for @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride Challenge! written as a combination of the bisexual prompts :)

As pride merch began to weave its way back into mass-consumer culture, large chains preparing for Pride Month, you couldn’t help the niggling of doubt in the back of your mind. Growing up, sexuality wasn’t an open topic of discussion in your family, and though you’d eventually been able to figure it out on your own with the help of the internet, social media, and several very attractive celebrities, it wasn’t uncommon for you to feel insecure in your sexuality. Bisexuality, despite its status as one of the most common sexualities in the queer community, was often overshadowed, both in your life and in the larger community.

Of course, it was easy to fall into stereotypes–bi with a preference for women, yet still dating a man. Not that you could complain about Spencer, he was everything you’d ever wanted and more. Yet, that doubting of your sexuality still bothered you from time to time. Were you really bisexual if you’d never been romantically involved with a woman? If the only kisses you’d ever shared with a woman were fleeting and meaningless? When the only romantic interests you’d pursued had been male?

It was difficult to articulate, even more difficult to say aloud. Many of your close friends were straight and were unable to offer more than comfort. And your boyfriend…well. You weren’t unhappy in your relationship with Spencer, far from it. Part of you was worried that a discussion about your sexuality would cause him to feel insecure in your relationship, and that was the last thing you wanted. Another more irrational part of you, built out of feelings of shame and doubt, feared that he would confirm your worries and invalidate your sexuality.

Logically, you knew Spencer wasn’t that kind of person. Armed with this knowledge, you brought it up after dinner one night as you were perched together on the couch, watching an old foreign film with a name you wouldn’t even attempt to pronounce.

“Do you think that it’s weird?” you blurted out.

Spencer furrowed his brow and paused the movie. “Do I think that what is weird?”

“That I say I’m bi even if I’ve never been in a relationship with a woman? Or even pursued one?”

Inhaling sharply, Spencer frowned. “Is this your way of telling me you want to pursue a relationship outside of ours?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, not at all. It’s just…you know, Pride is rolling around soon, and it caused a thought spiral, seeing the merchandise resurfacing in stores. I mean, am I really valid in my identity if there seems to be nothing indicating that I am truly attracted to women?”

Spencer visibly relaxed when you clarified that this was nothing about your relationship. He moved closer to you, taking your hand in his and interlacing your fingers.

“Love, there’s nothing wrong with being queer in a straight-passing relationship. And not having previous involvement in romantic relationships with someone of the other gender doesn’t mean that you’re not bi. Sexuality isn’t defined in concrete terms. It’s fluid, and it’s a different experience for many people. Plus, you don’t need to prove it to anyone. You can be attracted to women and never have been in a relationship with one. How you feel is how you feel.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Plus, I’ve seen how you look at the women in your favorite shows.”

Your face heated, and you groaned.

“And in public, for that matter,” he added with a chuckle.

You buried your head in your hands. “I was just admiring their outfits…”

“It’s understandable for you to feel the way you do,” Spencer stated, voice taking on a more serious tone. “Society places a lot of pressure on labels and certain boxes you have to conform to if you identify with any label. We’re told how we can and can’t present ourselves. But really, all that matters is that you’re true to yourself. And at the end of the day, you don’t need to have a label if it’s causing undue stress.”

“It feels like I had everything figured out about my sexuality when I was younger. I knew I liked men, and I knew I liked women, and everyone and anyone in between. I didn’t care what other people thought. But now that I’m older, it just feels like I’ve adopted a label that doesn’t matter. All people see is that I’m dating a man, and they make assumptions based on that,” you sighed.

Spencer brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Like I said, it’s about what’s true to you, not anyone else. You’re no less valid for being in a relationship with a man than a bisexual woman would be for being in a relationship with a woman. Bisexual erasure is unfortunately common, even in the LGBTQ+ community, with people preferring absolutes–you’re either ‘gay’ or ‘straight’ or it’s too complicated. You don’t have to ‘pick a side’.”

You felt tears welling up as the burden you’d learned to ignore seemed to dissolve, lifting an immense weight from your shoulders. It’d been eons since you’d allowed yourself to open up and discuss your anxieties about your sexuality in this manner, and to find yourself supported and seen by one of the most important people in your life was ultimately reassuring.

“I love you, you know that?” Spencer whispered. “Your sexuality isn’t going to change that.”

“I love you too.” You paused, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”

He kissed your forehead as you settled back in, starting the film from where you’d left off.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #mentioningmargins

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vasito-de-leche · 1 month

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;R1999 6 - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about 6 in a romantic relationship.

I was struggling soooooo hard with another 6 request so I had to get this post out of my system fist before tackling that one

Okay, first of all! I don't see 6 as the type of person who would be that interested in having a relationship, at least not beyond what is expected of him as the leader of Apeiron. It's the least of his priorities as of now.

Part of it is largely due to his responsibilities--he knows that he cannot afford to show any sort of favoritism, and he is much too thoughtful to force someone he cares about under such pressure, simply because he harbors feelings for them. It's very ironic that the one thing that defines his entire life and existence is also what keeps him from seeking any deeper relationships. 6 knows more than anyone that the loneliness of his title would be extended to his partner, and so, he has no actual firsthand experience in romantic relationships other than what he might've studied while in reclusion.

Of course, this isn't to say that he's entirely inept when it comes to socializing or all sorts of relationships. He is the best at being 6 for a reason, as much as he dislikes it.

We know that he loves his people, if his devotion to his role of leader is anything to go by. And he clearly cares about his friendship with 210, 37 and Sophia, as strained or complex as these dynamics may be, as he makes sure to retrieve the crown that they made for him each and every day that it's stolen. He loved his aunt Alma too, she played a big role in his upbringing after all.

So 6 isn't a stranger to love, but he is very passive about it.

To describe 6 as "passive" could be seen as an insult, especially after what his character event showed us in relation to his struggle against fate, but I think there's a key difference to the passive nature that is presented between 6 prior to receiving the Revelation and after he settles in as the new leader. His initial lack of action was fueled by resignation, a fear for the inevitable fate his bloodline carries. But now, he knows that refusing to act is sometimes necessary to maintain the harmony within the island, this is why he's described as a mediator. Love can happen, but there's no reason to upset the precarious balance he maintains by indulging in romance.

On the subject of 6 developing a crush.

6 is an extremely introspective man with a very good grasp on his own feelings and thoughts--even more so now that he's obtained the Revelation! If he has a crush then trust me, he knows. He notices the fondness he has for you the moment those feelings start blooming in his chest.

And he's not going to do a single thing about it.

He's not going to act upon any of his feelings. He's not going to let anyone find out, for the sake of maintaining this perfect balance. His behaviour remains the same, no signs of being flustered whatsoever. There are no fleeting glances, no hands brushing on accident. He doesn't stare at you from afar, wondering if you could ever love him, pining and yearning for your attention.

That doesn't happen, not in public.

Just like every other detail about his life, his thoughts of you are kept private, for him to ponder on whenever he's alone in his room, meditating. The outside world has no business bearing witness to these feelings--you are special to him and so, he keeps the memory of you safe and sound. 6 is much too mature to actually pine and yearn, but he does like to wonder and explore other possibilities, another life in which he's not burdened by fate, in which he's given the choice to find his own soul number for as long as it takes. Another life in which he can openly confess without fearing for what might happen to you should you accept him.

I like to think that these little fantasies help him tolerate the stress of the daily routine, it's something nice that gives him solace. When he's alone, his existence isn't defined by a number nor the history of his family, he can just be at ease and dream of better things.

I want to stress the fact that he wouldn't confess, no matter how strong his feelings are. Even if you happened to reciprocate, 6 would always prioritize the stability of Apeiron and turn you down for your sake and everyone else's. 6 would actually prefer to be close friends with his crush.

On the subject of dating 6.

I like to think that for 6 to start considering the idea of courting you, you have to actually debate him.

Not a battle of attrition like the debates 210 insists on having, but a fair and honest discussion to give him proof and solid arguments that could help him ease into the idea of dating someone for love, rather than duty. Something like this would really ease 6's mind, being able to get to know you better through the way you defend yourself and the love you hold for him, as well as weighting the public's reaction. Two birds in one stone. If you manage to do that, then there's no reason for him to object.

I don't know what I like the most out of these options though, the idea of 6 choosing to give a proper confession in private to finally share everything he's kept to himself, so that you may accept all of him at his most honest and vulnerable. Or him not confessing, choosing to invite you to his study and enjoy a moment of respite in absolute silence, knowing that there's nothing keeping you two from being together. So whichever floats your boat!

When it comes to actually dating him, not much would change.

6 understands that there's been a considerable shift in his life, but his lack of experience and solitary lifestyle would lead him to continue with his routine--if you want to see him, then you'll have to seek him out like you've always done. He's more than content knowing you're aware of his feelings and wouldn't really seek to change anything else, so it's entirely up to you to communicate and discuss what you'd like out of this relationship. He'll be more than glad to listen and accomodate you as much as he can.

You taking the initiative in this might also fuel him to share the things he'd like to do! Again, this passive nature doesn't come from shyness, but duty. I can see him being open to anything and being very direct about his own needs, as long as he can continue to separate his personal life and time with you from his time outside and his responsibilities.

Overall, dating 6 is a very calm experience! He never got the chance to know himself without the pressure of the Revelation, but he enjoys getting to know you instead. While most of the time he simply asks you to sit with him and relax, he puts the effort into finding time to spend with you, even if it's just walking together from one place to another before both of you must tend to your respective duties.

On the subject of his partner not being from Apeiron.

The way I see it, 6 is a little more lenient with certain aspects--unlike 37, for example. I don't see her capable of being in a romantic relationship with an irrational number, and getting to trust someone from outside who isn't specifically aiming to adapt to the scriptures will take a long time, but 6 is a little more flexible under the proper circumstances.

I believe this is the case because of his Bond: Morning voice line!

...One should never parcel off the loaf, for it's a violation of the scripture. But we are not on the island. So, please enjoy the freedom.

So the moment this pressure of responsibility is lifted from his shoulders, I think he would be open to the possibility of his partner being literally anyone. Because of the Revelation, I don't think 6 is blinded by faith like other members of Apeiron are, if else he's burdened by the contradictions and paradoxes that are natural in the world.

Not sure how he would feel with a human partner though! Chapter 05 only says that humans and mankind as a whole are dismissed entirely as "imaginary numbers," forbidden on the island, and there's no specifics on how they feel about mixed arcanists.

Round of cute things.

Literally just a round of cute things that 6 would do or enjoy because I don't know how to incorporate them onto the post in a fancy way.

His crown was made to keep his hair out of his face, but we can see that it's not doing a very good job lol. I think 6 would really find it charming whenever his partner tucks his hair behind his ear so they can get a look at his face--he's much too used to hiding and keeping to himself, so wanting to be seen by you is a pretty new experience. It's also a very casual and innocent gesture, so whenever he feels like getting you to pay attention to him (more than often as a way to excuse himself out of some other conversation) he will allow his hair to drape over his face hoping you'll notice.

6 isn't big on public displays of affection. Just sitting next to you is more than enough for him--but if he happens to notice you get lonely or make cute eyes at him, he will scoot close until your shoulders bump into each other. If 6 is feeling particularly cuddly, he will hold your hand.

But behind closed doors, 6 is very partial to kissing the top of your head or your temple. It's a very gentle kiss, he doesn't even pucker up, just closes his eyes, gently rests his lips there and hums to himself. And he could stay there for a long time if you let him.

If 6 is feeling restless for whatever reason, I can see him asking you to read something for him, so he can concentrate on the sound of your voice and nothing else. It's very soothing to him. He prefers that you read something he can tune out, as opposed to telling him something he'd like to pay attention to--like your thoughts or how your day has been.

Oh! Also, I don't see him as the type to want matching accessories or material things like that, but if you were to give him a gift or something to match with you, he would specifically ask you to keep it simple--nothing gilded, nothing shiny, nothing that is easy for seagulls to steal. Something like a little string bracelet, if possible in your favorite colors rather than his--it might be just a small fragment in a world of matters, but it means so much to him.

Also also, 6 does notice a lot of your gestures or expressions, the little things about you that often go unnoticed. The way you might scrunch your nose, tilt your head, fiddle with your hands, tap your feet--anything.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 6 #reverse 1999 x reader #6

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concorp · 3 months

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MCYT Eras Concept

For a long time, I've thought of MCYT as divided into different eras. I've finally decided to refine the idea and write it out. I feel it's a good way to define things, rather than just "old school" and "modern", as the bar for each of those have shifted drastically over time. Please do note that a lot of how I describe these eras is mostly from my own perspective, but I do think the overall divisions work well for MCYT as a whole!

Era 1 - The "OG" Era (2009 - 2011)

The beginning of Minecraft and MCYT. Much content at this point was traditional lets plays, simple tutorials and showing off early innovations in redstone.

Era 2 - The "Classic" Era (2012 - 2014)

This era encompasses what is often considered the peak of many iconic "old school" groups and series. Team Crafted, Mindcrack, the various Yogscast Tekkit series, and many, many more.

It's difficult to describe everything that made up the classic era in a succinct manner. It was the true rise of SMPs, Adventure Maps, Minecraft Animations, Parodies, Mod Reviews, MCRP, and so, so much more. Minecraft was unavoidable on YouTube back then.

Era 3 - The "Gap" Era (2015 - 2017)

The "gap" era is named for the lull in MCYT's popularity. In this period of time, it was seen more as a niche, compared to the massive popularity it saw before and after.

This era saw the "death", or at least massive dips in popularity to many formerly wildly popular groups and ccs, as viewers interests changed and moved onto other things.

Many series came and went during this era, but weren't properly appreciated until after their time.

Era 4 - The "Revival" Era (2018 - 2019)

This era, due to a combination of many factors, was MCYT's return to mainstream. Many people returned to both singleplayer series and servers. Episodic SMPs old and new such as Hermitcraft and Truly Bedrock, began experimenting more with the lines between gameplay, story and improv.

This era also saw the rise of streaming based series, such as SMPLive, SMPEarth, and Minecraft Monday.

Era 5 - The "Lockdown" Era (2020 - 2022)

Much of this era is defined by the new heights reached during covid lockdowns. This era kicked dozens if not hundreds of the careers of those who grew up watching MCYT during the OG and Classic eras.

This era is admittedly very defined by the DSMP, rocketing MCYT and specifically MCRP into a level of popularity unseen before. Second, and as just as important to this era is MCC, bringing together so many personalities from all over the MCYT sphere who otherwise would likely have never interacted on a monthly basis.

A massive innovation in this era was also the introduction of the Simple Voice Chat mod to many servers, now a staple of most multiplayer content.

Era 6 - The Current Era (2023 - Present)

Unnamed as of yet, as it is still ongoing, the current era of MCYT has so far been defined by not only the continued rise of many smaller, younger MCYTs. But largely, and undoubtedly, by the QSMP.

Not only has it redefined what an SMP can be through its gameplay. It has brought the international MCYT community is closer together now than ever, crossing language and cultural barriers previously rarely touched.

---

This concept of mine isn't fully solidified, and is up to be more refined. I would love to hear y'all's thoughts and feedback about these divisions and the idea overall!

#talking #mcyt #mcytblr #mcyt eras

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comradekatara · 5 months

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I definately see your point in regards to the politics of The Promise and the Korra side of things at large. On another topic, though, how could Mako have been improved upon as a character because I always thought he was the least interesting character in all of the Avatar universe? Maybe instead of just making him a bookkeeper make him a full on former Triad member?

awww no i kind of love mako tbh. my bland little saltine cracker. i think we need to make room in our hearts for more dull autistic utterly swagless men whose idea of a good time is simply doing the daily crossword while eating plain cornflakes (no milk). but real talk mako’s character definitely had room for improvement. not because he’s boring, but because all the actually interesting aspects of his character were largely relegated to subtext, and he was instead given boring ass subplots like “stupid love triangle,” “being a cop,” “having to babysit an annoying twink,” etc. so it’s not that his backstory needs improvement, but rather that if those largely subtextual elements of his character were actually teased out and explored in meaningful ways, he would’ve been much more interesting to watch, because his purpose in the story would actually have some fucking thematic depth.

in a better show, mako’s backstory, arc, and general narrative presence would’ve served to illustrate how the neoliberal economy of republic city detrimentally affects the socioeconomically disadvantaged. in the ba sing se arc, bolin sees the lower ring and is like “eww gross POVERTY!!!! no wonder dad left.” like my guy you were living on the street as a child forced to exploit your labor for gutter scraps. why is poverty all of a sudden an issue to you (you can claim he’s just in deep denial and/or quite literally an idiot, but still. lmfao). in a superior show, mako and bolin’s presence would implicitly prompt the viewer to ask, why does the presence of a nuclear family structure necessitate security, and why does its absence collapse any sort of social safety net? why were mako and bolin forced to live on the streets once they were orphaned? how does living in abject poverty in one’s formative years psychologically affect their relationship to wealth, power, security, and success? (mako and bolin only tangentially cover some of these questions in their arcs, most notably in mako’s decision to date asami over korra, and in bolin’s obtuse quest for fame.) furthermore, what parallels versus juxtapositions can be drawn from asami’s own complex experiences navigating wealth, paternal abuse, and systems of control as they directly pertain to the beneficiaries of these capitalist structures? in what ways can asami and mako&bolin bridge these gaps across opposite ends of the class hierarchy, and in what ways are these chasms fundamentally untraversable?

i feel like the main failing of lok was that it actually presented some really interesting concepts, but it seemed like most of it was purely by accident and the show had no actual interest in focalizing or even addressing the compelling subtext hidden between bland and/or frustrating scenes oversaturated with obnoxious characters. like mako and asami are ostensibly main characters, but we never actually get satisfying meat to chew on regarding their inner lives and characters arcs, despite them being two of the most compelling characters in the show just based off of premise and lingering subtextual allusions to more interesting themes than were actually addressed in the show itself. so like asami, who i adore mostly for what remains unspoken (her abusive relationship to her father, her ethical contentions with her own capital, her latent homoerotic feelings for korra, etc.), mako is also compelling me for reasons largely unaddressed outside of the occasional “oh well you’re traumatized from all that time you spent taking care of your brother who is only somewhat younger than you as a small child and selling yourself to criminal organizations to have enough to eat week by week, which probably informs your decisions somewhat now that you are technically an adult (he’s like. 18???? also???) so that’s cool i guess. but also what the fuck you’re so sick and twisted for being attracted to two gorgeous powerful women at the same time, you should go to JAIL!!!!!” and then they do. actually send him to jail. -_-

#mysticarcadehologram-blog #asks #lok crit #sometimes i remember how poorly written this show was despite all its potential and im just like wtf all over again #like both on a dialogue and structural basis. scene by scene season by season. this was a mess 😭#but mako is my silly little guy i love him <3333333 #mako #bolin #asami #i don’t even rly address bolin outside of his proximity to mako bc besides the pilot where he is charming and cute and has a brain.#bolin does not interest me at all bc i cannot stand the dumb comic relief archetype #ppl just hate mako bc he fumbled two of the gorgeoust bitches in the world #but like. you’d fumble them too. be honest

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sinni-ok-sessi · 2 months

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Would love to hear any thoughts on the codification of the poet-persona over time? 👀

Ok so in the spirit of the ask game, I am not checking any citations on this whatsoever, but if you want those lmk (though they uh. largely do not exist for rímur-poets specifically, because only me and Hans Kuhn have ever cared).

This is going to require some context because, as established, the number of living people who know and care about medieval rímur can be counted on my two hands. Probably without thumbs. So, rímur are a poetic form that developed in 14th cen Iceland, which look kind of ballad-y, in that they often use four-line stanzas with ABAB end-rhyme, though actually the ballad tradition in Iceland is quite distinct (on which, see Vésteinn Ólason, The Ballads of Iceland). End-rhyme was very exciting for Icelandic poets because it was only previously a thing in some uncommon types of skaldic metres, but rímur (as their name suggests) have end-rhyme as a defining feature and rapidly become The dominant form of poetry in Iceland until well into the 19th cen.

There are two very distinctive things about rímur, other than their metres: 1) they almost never tell 'new' stories; almost all rímur narratives are attested earlier in other forms, usually in prose, which can sometimes lead to the fun cycle of saga -> rímur cycle -> old saga is lost, new version is written based on the rímur -> more rímur are written based on the new saga -> repeat until the heat death of the universe; 2) as the form develops, it acquires introductory stanzas known as mansöngvar, a term which elsewhere usually means 'love poetry', although that's not really what they're doing here.

Mansöngvar are verses, sometimes in a different metre to the rest of the canto they're attached to, in which the poet speaks directly to the audience. In the medieval period, they're pretty short and often don't say more than 'look, I made you some poetry', but as time goes on, they get more and more elaborate, and the character of the poet begins to develop some quite distinctive traits. What's interesting here is that rímur were (certainly in the medieval period; less certainly later on) performed aloud, presumably by the poet, so there's definitely some questions to be asked about how accurate the poets' self-descriptions are when presumably the audience could go 'you're not pining away for love, Jón Jónsson, I've met your wife!'

So anyway, these mansöngvar are often linked to the medieval German Minnesänger tradition (er. The actual German word might be slightly different because I still don't speak German despite my PhD supervisor's pointed remarks), which is more overtly love poetry and which sometimes features the poet as an abject and despised lover of some cruel lady. This is something rímur-poets from the later medieval period and onwards have an incredibly good time with. You may be familiar with the story of Þórr wrestling with Elli, the personification of old age in the form of an old woman. There are at least two medieval rímur poets who have a whole extended passage about 'oh alas, when I was young I was a terrible flirt but now I'm old and no women like me, except oh no, I am being courted by this ugly old giant lady; Elli is the only ladyfriend for me now, wah'. it's very playful, it's very fun, it's drawing on this general sense that the poets put forward that they're poetically gifted, but romantically unlucky, which is kind of a Thing for poets across a lot of European literature (and probably more broadly, but I don't know much about that), and is especially pronounced in the earlier Icelandic sagas about poets, which usually feature poets failing to win the love of their life for various reasons (sudden attack of Christianity; sudden attack of magic seals; sudden attack of Other Guy With Sword; etc). So in evoking this, rímur-poets are situating themselves in this existing Image of the Ideal Poet, but doing so in a way that ties them into the specifics of the Norse literary/mythological tradition as well. Poets are also frequently old and tired (same, bro), and a statistically improbably number of them are also blind (although that might just be two guys we know about who were really prolific; most rímur are anonymous so it's hard to say. But it is perhaps convenient that this also links them to A Great Poet of Old, namely Homer).

The other thing that rímur-poets really like to bring up in their mansöngvar is the myth of the mead of poetry, which I will not recount here except to say that Óðinn nicked it from a giant, and also that some dwarves used it to buy safe passage off a skerry once, so it's poetically termed 'ship of the dwarves' because it's the thing that brought them safely across the sea. Every single medieval mansöngur, if one exists at all, refers to this myth in some way, even if it's just by having the 'I made you some poetry' bit use a kenning for 'poetry' that references the myth.* And poets have a lot of fun with this too! Iceland's a coastal community, they know about boats, so you get these extended metaphors about poets trying to board a boat to sample the mead of poetry and finding only the dregs because other, better poets got there first. Or they will describe the process of poetic composition in terms of ship-building: 'Here I nail together Suðri's [a dwarf name] boat'; 'Norðri's ship sets out from the harbour [= I'm about to start reciting the main bit now]'; 'the fine vessel has now been wrecked on the rocks [=I'm going to stop reciting now]'. They'll also speak of poetry as smíð, which means a work of craftsmanship, usually physical craftsmanship (obviously cognate with smithing in English), and of brewing the ale of Óðinn, so they're really into metaphors of physical craft when it comes to the intellectual craft of poetry, which I think is really neat.

*kennings = poetic circumlocutions, e.g. 'snake of the belt' is a sword because swords are vaguely snake-shaped and hang from a belt. Common poetry kennings are '[drink/liquid/ale/wine/mead] of [any of Óðinn's literally dozens of names]' e.g. 'Berlingr's wine', and the aforementioned 'ship of the dwarves' - poetic Icelandic has literally dozens of words for different kinds of ships and also literally dozens of dwarf names, so you can get a long way without repeating yourself.

So all these things that I've mentioned that poets like to bring up - old age, unluckiness in love, poets as craftsmen - become more and more tropified as time goes on, which in turn leads to these imaginative and extended reworkings of the metaphor. No longer can you just say 'I'm old and no one fancies me', no, it's 'My only assignations now are with Elli, wink wink, here's a long description of our date'. So you end up with this very codified image of The Ideal Rímur-Poet as an old man,* ideally blind, ideally unmarried, incredibly self-deprecating about his poetry, and because that's how everyone else talks, it's self-reinforcing.

*there is one (1) known female rímur-poet from the medieval period, the poet of Landrés rímur, who unfortunately didn't write many mansöngur stanzas but is doing her best with the 'unlucky in love' bit, although her lover (male) seems to have died rather than ditched her, which is a novelty.

Anyway, it's cool and weird and fun and as I say, only me and Hans Kuhn care, academically speaking.

#lol 1260 words here. which is. maybe 10 minutes of actual speaking time but OH WELL #asks I have answered #if there are bits that I haven't explained well lmk. I have a warped idea of how much the average person knows about Norse literary history #because I *am* on my Stan Rogers Wife Guy kick at the moment please imagine Jón Jónsson holding a guitar #also. lol. I am extremely fucking doxxable every time I talk about rímur so if you do know my full legal name. keep that shit to yourself.#but also. go read my phd thesis. if you like the shit jokes in this post you'll love 70k of them concealed in academese

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mokutone · 11 months

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your art makes me wanna start testosterone

i can't read tone well, so this is either an incredibly touching ask, or an extremely funny one, and in the absence of confirmation: both!

i'm in a chatty mood, so i'll share some thoughts about testosterone and my art.

i liked being on testosterone a lot. i had an IM injection every two weeks (on tuesdays!) and because that's a sizeable dose every 14 days that slowly disperses, it can cause some mood fluctuations (every other friday i would have a crisis about not feeling like the world had a place for me in it) but even those were far more manageable than the ones that would come with my previous and current monthly hormone cycle (every month i spend a solid week thinking the world will never have a place for me in it)

It gave me a patchy little bit of scruff on my chin and a whispy mustache under my nose that still struggles on, despite adversity!

It redistributed my fat a little bit, but that's long since gone back to pre-T shape.

it lowered my voice! that hasn't changed :^)! even if i never go back on t, that won't change. it was the thing i most wanted, and its the one i'm most grateful for. Pre-T, I didn't speak much. I'm getting better and better at talking and getting more and more comfortable communicating with people because of it.

having been off t now for 3 years, i don't pass anymore—not as a cis man, or a cis woman, certainly not as anything approximating straight. if people look at me and see anything, i'd hazard a guess that they see me as A Queer (the noun—for all it's complicated connotations).

i'm not surprised that my art might make somebody want to start testosterone! a lot of my art was made out of the aching grief that came with being kicked off of testosterone, and how neatly that loss of autonomy over my own body knits in with yamato's loss of autonomy over his own.

how my body started doing things i disliked, how i didn't have the support necessary to access the healthcare i needed—how my inability to give myself what i needed made me feel as though i were trapped inside of myself and abandoned (by both myself and the world at large)

when i write comics about yamato as a trans man, i don't take away his testosterone, because that hits a little too close to home for me. for Ninja War Town Reasons, he has plenty of access to all the HRT he could ever need and nobody questions his need for it—instead, i project my own horrors onto the way Danzō defined his identity for him as a child, the way that Kabuto and Obito dehumanize him as an adult in their war efforts, and reduce him to the thing his body holds (the Mokuton). I give him a kneejerk compulsion to dehumanize himself (out of a feeling that he has a duty to his community to do so) and I give him a slow-growing resistance to that impulse (which comes out of a feeling that the people he loves would frown upon seeing him reduce himself like that)

it's dysphoria! it's not gender dysphoria, but it's a loss of self, and a need to reclaim it. it's a war between the hollow shell of a thing he thinks he has to be, and the vibrant and messy person beneath it that he is. it's a desperate need to say "this is who i am—only i can say it"

I enjoyed HRT a lot. it was a really useful tool in helping me feel like my body was my own, that i didn't have to fight it, that we were the same entity. It's not the only tool, but it was a really good one, and one day I hope to use it again.

(as for the being off of it—it's unpleasant, but i'm enduring! being somebody who now doesn't really pass as anything has put me in a weird and interesting position, where I'm constantly having to declare myself to people, because nobody knows what to make of me on any front. they don't know if i'm a man, a woman, nonbinary, nor even what age i am (Augh!!!!) it forces me to be brave and vulnerable more than I'm comfortable with—if I tell somebody I'm a man, there's no way that they will believe I'm cis, but I'm not about to recloset myself—and I don't think I could at this point anyway.)

(there's something fascinating about the position i find myself in, and while i'd leap back on t the moment that an opportunity presented itself to do so, i do feel like i'm experiencing something interesting and important in this weird zone i find myself in)

#yamswers #anonymous #dysphoria discussion #q slur — only because i literally use it in the noun form most associated w/ dehumanization #i love that u asked this on a tuesday. thank u for asking this on a tuesday #happy testosterone tuesday to all who celebrate #i also got top surgery a while ago—which is responsible for about 50% of my average suicidal idealizations vanishing #because my chest was my second biggest site of dysphoria after my voice #it was far less painful than i dared imagine. and far more satisfying. i had an excellent and lucky recovery #my results aren't perfect but oh man. the joy of being able to press my hand (flat) to my chest (flat).#the way that a binder mimics the exact squeeze around my lungs that a panic attack stimulates—#not feeling that when i'm out in public? thank you modern medicine. thank you. oh my god. no more false flag panic attacks #i had to fight my insurance for two years and all the health providers i contacted told me the hoops i was being made to jump through #seemed utterly ridiculous. and it was still gobs of money but i got it. so grateful u cannot even imagine #a lot of people describe their feelings post op as “relief—finally i could see myself”#but i experience...more delight than relief. joy. is joy the absence of pain or the presence of happiness? can i tell the difference?#on my worst days i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on

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what-thisiscrazzzy · 2 months

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Okay I just wrote and essay on soap operas and while doing this is read Glen Creeber’s ‘serial television’ where he discussed the hybridisation of the soap opera and its characteristic of the ‘flexi- narrative’ and I want to talk about how this applies to 911 on ABC especially with the season 6 ending and the season 8 renewal 3 episodes into its new season.

Disclaimer: I don’t want to write a whole essay on this and i dont fully have an idea where im going with this. this is just me rambling.

Firstly Creeber defines the soap opera as: A continuous, never-ending drama series usually set around the domestic and intimate lives of a small community that explicitly resists narrative closure.

The 'flexi-narrative' is the characteristic of soap operas where there are multiple narratives running separately and with different tones. not all of these narratives will reach a complete conclusion, some trailing off and some left open for further exploration. This creates a sense of realism as real life continues on and doesnt have a conclusion.

Additionally, Christine Geraghty explains that realism in soaps is also built by the way that the narrative continues without the viewer creating the sense that they live a day to day life beyon what the viewer can observe.

A quick explanation of hybridisation is that elements such as the flexinarrative and the focus on close interpersonal relationships rather than larger overarching plotlines and politics. Within the text that I'm referring to there is a discussion of how shows based on work places become less about the jobs and more about these relationships.

John Wilsher (who is quoted in this book) states that essentially all drama is becoming a soap opera with these more personal stories, this is stated like a negative by him but I personally find these narrative more interesting as they become more psychological and allow for a discussion of more personal topics and political implications.

But basically what is being said is the drama now is a sort of hybrid with soap operas and has adapted to include the flexi-narrative and a focus on more personal narrastives.

This is where my thoughts come to 911 and its move to ABC. The previous season of 911's ending was created with the knowledge that the show would most likely be cancelled (i don't know at what point the writers where aware of this but i think it can be assumed that the season didn't start with this confirmed and/or known) this meant that everything had to be wrapped up, every story line must come to a form of conclusion. I think it can be easily said that most viewers and fans found the conclusion as unsatisfying due to the choices made by writers. However, I think to an extent no conclusion would be satisfying as 911 is a show that benefits and thrives on the flexi-narrative. In a sense it is a hybrid of the soap opera similar to most modern procedurals and within this is the expectation that it will feature continuous plot lines and refer back to its past stories. This can be seen in the various 'Buck' iterations, the acknowledgement of Buck's character progression. A large part of 911 is the personal development of characters like Buck but also Bobby and his alcoholism, Hen's family and its occasional issues and celebrations, Chim and his journey with relationships and Maddie with overcoming abuse and developing a healthy family. Any final conclusion to 911 will feel unsatisfying as the show has built on the sense of realism, these characters have been shown to experience life beyond the plot and to write it to a close feels unnatural.

I also believe the way they chose to conclude specifically Bucks story did feel rush, if anything if they didn't have time to give him a fully developed love interest then they should have returned to a previous iteration of the couch metaphor and had him happy single or continue looking for love with a healthier mind set. To give him a concrete close without the time to set up a fulfilling future feels odd even if you have no investment in Buddie or if you did have investment in his relationship with Natalia. The narrative structure of 911 creates the pattern that there is no happy ending, they just continued development. The ending of season 6 didn't create a sense that Buck will develop more, his new relationship felt almost closed. I think a comparison to this is Eddie's ending which did feel like a closing but instead like a slightly new beginning (I don't personally like Marisol but this isnt about opinions of the love interest but instead how she is introduced) as it was an opening to Eddie developing past... well his past.

Anyway this is all to say that the renewal of 911 after 3 episodes of season 7 does sit well with this comparison to soap operas in terms of its benefits. 911 works better when the writers can write these flexi-narratives that are continuous and could last not just for a season but beyond that. I think that's sort of where 911 has suffered as it sometimes tries to close narratives that don't require closure or are ended too early. Such as the Buckley parents, that's a narrative that could have been taken through multiple seasons and even with forgiveness it could be something that could be further discussed. But season 8 being renewed allows the writers the safety to write continuous stories that don't need to be concluded by the end of the season. I think in general 911 thrives when it doesn't try to close things and instead continues on. A wedding isn't the ending of the dating era but a new beginning, a death isn't the end but a way to explore its ramifications, etc.

This was all just me rambling bc i had to read a bunch of stuff for uni and 911 was on my brain but ultimately what i want to get at is procedural shows such as 911 benefit more from being treated as soap operas or at least using the characteristics they have inherited to its advantage and if they are given the freedom to create long running and never ending personal narratives they can develop a more satisfying story.

This all made more sense in my head sorry

#911 abc #911 on abc #911 season 7 #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #what can i actually tag that actually applies #i dont want to be someone who tags unrelated things #911onabc #911 show #film and television #tv shows #oliver stark #ryan guzman #911 fox #911 #911 s7 #911 meta #meta

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fartface025 · 10 days

Text

MY 6KAALAA MANIFESTO

copypaste ty to @anonymocha for being a sounding board and my ally/discussion partner in this cruel world. yes this is a crackship. im aware. i just… i just. i think theyre neat. i think they kiss sometimes when theyre like. umm. headcanon post 2 coming soon whatever if u even care. read my other posts abt cristallo and the others if u want.

first draft thoughts

6kaalaa is basically its not that 6 is really repressed i think he would act the same way abt romance even if he wasnt 6. maybe more interested just bc its an interesting component of his existence.

i rock w both hcs abt demiromantic or asexual 6 and also ones where he is unlabelled, not averse to anything but not seeking romantic love. i see him as the latter but like.

theyre like pavzima. theyre not a romantic relationship as normally construed or imagined, but theyre def romantic in nature. they have a good friendship before they ever consider romantic entanglement.

6 is gen interested in kaalaa and vedic astrology, kaalaa finds his life interesting. also they have close familial dynamics in sophia 37 and 210, and kanjira and shamane.

disclaimer, not an expert on kaalaa or 6, i missed mor pankh, i dont have kaalaa bur i know aspects of her character, 6 i am good friendship w did his story event when we had the 1.6 update, but havent gone past c5

HOWEVER!

LISTEN!

firstly, kaalaa is great at math. vedic astrology as she practices demands great skill as a mathematician. she’s qualified to be a professor. she has to be excellent at it to calculate planetary movement. compared to any average person, she’s a prodigy in this field. i feel confident saying that out of the cast members that aren’t of the 1.6 island, she’s one of the best mathematicians. (john titor i dont know much of, i would assume she is a great mathematician too)

idea: i see both kaalaa and 6 on the same scale of demiromanticism. 6 understands aesthetic attraction, but he doesnt seek or need romantic love, and i think the same is true of kaalaa and i think sex is just a if it happens it happens. but they have a romantic relationship. i j think they both understand aesthetic appeal and kaalaa is the single most beautiful reverse 1999 woman. send tweet (this depends pn hpw down bad and horny i am for kaalaa. i speak my truths)

kaalaa is an astrologist who depends on seeing fate into something that can arguably be attributed as math. math as fate…why does that sound familiar…

the difference is kaalaa is of the opinion fate can be altered or is divergent and is never cemented. atticus was defined by his destiny and it eventually fulfilled and became him, but he was resistant. and from what we see of him in his event story and his interaction w the other worshipper in his second story implies remaining elements of humanity and individuality from his identity as atticus, PLUS he was curious for sophia and her human normal behaviors. this intersection between two people who know fate and have it entwined in their life, who both know math well and use it to define a large part of their beings, but the main differences of preconceptions of fate and exposure to human emotion, culture and illogicality? it feels opportune for a story, especially with the islanders learning that human traits are good and make life worth living (personal thinf, i Love humans and our illogical persistent emotions. even apathy is an emotion. we are inescapably made of them.) i think, from what ik so far, thagt c5 and the whole MATH ISLAND FREE FROM VICE AND EVIL AND DANGER thing as well as the themes of rigidity versus freedom and logicality versus love is shaping up to be like actually maybe there is worth to empathy and all these other things. i think 6 and kaalaa’s friendship and dynamic revolves around this growing understanding, esp w their respective close friend groups

i hope this doesnt sound like romantic love teaches someone to “be human”. i explained that i think of them as a close friendship that naturally becomes romantic in nature, but i dont see the romantic love as the Woahhh hes human now. i see it as this as well as exposure to arcanist and human culture and nuance (a journey that him and 37 embark on) informs his worldview and its really secondary to both kaalaa and 6’s familial love with groups who care about them dearly (kanjira and shamane, 37, sophia and 210).

REGGHHJNNNHGHSHSBSBSBSHSNNANNAN J JSUT LIVE THEM. I LOBE THEM

#kaalaa6 #kaalaa baunaa #kaalaa baunaa x six #reverse 1999 #6 reverse 1999 #6kaalaa #my faves

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

wallflower 7

Warnings: age gap, creepin’, slow burn, stepdad-adjacent, possible noncon/dubcon, abuse, violence, self-harm.

Character: silverfox!Thor

Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

Note: This one is a tiny bit longer than usual Another erratic drabble series. Appreciate any and all feedback. Love you all.

Thor clears the empty cups as you pet Fenrir’s snout, his head in your lap as he sits against the chair. Whenever you stop, the large dog is prodding at you with his cold nose for more. You don’t mind his insistence, he gives you comfort in the strange place.

Your host returns and grins as he watches you and the pushy wolfhound.

“Fen, be polite,” he girds as he comes forward. He nears and scratches the top of the dog’s head as you keep your eyes down, “I’m sorry about the lug. He’s never been like this. Not even with me. Well, only when he’s tryna push me outta bed.”

“He’s nice,” you say, “I like him.”

“Mmm, you don’t have to lie. I can tell him to go away.”

“No, please…” you stop yourself, then shrug, “he’s cute.”

Thor gives a stroke to Fen’s ear before he backs up, sitting on the couch as he watches you. Your cheeks burn as you try to ignore him. Those questions tugging at your mind make you nervous. What do you do about your mother? Will she wake up soon? What if she doesn’t?

“I suppose you’ll be staying the night,” Thor seems to read your mind. You wince and glance over, just at his large hands as he folds them together, his arms propped on his thighs. The silver rings make his fingers look even thicker and the defined veins hint at a restrained strength, “I can make up one of the spare rooms.”

“Yeah, I…” you rub your neck and Fen lifts his head at the sudden lack of attention. He swipes his tongue up your face and you crinkles your eyes, “Fen.” The dog groans and drops his head to your lap, “I should check on my mom, maybe she’ll wake up.”

“She needs to sleep it off,” he says, “I don’t mind, it would save me driving at night. It’s pretty late.”

“Oh,” you don’t like to insist, so you don’t. “I’ll look in on her anyway, just to make sure.”

“Ah,” he sits back, his jaw squaring as he thinks, “does she do this often?”

“Pardon?” You once more scratch Fenrir’s ears to keep your restless nerves from scattering.

“Your mother. How often does she drink?”

You bite your lip and dip your chin down as you lift your shoulders. You shouldn’t say. It’s not right to say. Your mother would be livid. “I don’t know…”

He sighs and scratches his head, resting his chin in his hand as he watches you. You stare at the dog and play with a long strand of his wiry fur. Fenrir raises his face to touch your nose with his, as if telling you it’s okay.

“She’s not very nice to you,” Thor utters at last.

You shrug.

“You don’t care?”

You shrug again and turn your face away. He’s quiet, patient as you weigh a response. Your throat tightens and you shake your head. You can’t say anything. You might say too much.

“She really shouldn’t–”

“I’m lazy. I’m a disappointment,” you admit and gulp down the rest before it can come spilling out, “she’s just frustrated. I am too. I wish I did more. I don’t know why I can’t. I–” You hide your face as your hands shake and Fenrir tries to still them by resting his large head over them, “I’m tired, maybe it is time to go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you. I told the truth when I said that you’re welcome here. That I invited you so that we could know each other. I’m new in your life and your mother is your mother, so I don’t want you to feel left out,” he stands and his shadow looms over you, “though, I can guess she’s never worried about that.”

You swallow, “then why…” you begin and think better of it.

“Why what?” He approaches you and rests his hand on the back of the chair.

“Nothing,” you pat Fenrir and stand carefully. The dog backs up and wags his tail.

“Tell me,” he goads.

“No, please, it was a stupid thought. I should go see my mom.”

He exhales and grips his hip, “right, Fen, bed time.”

The dog retreats and walks ahead of you as Thor ushers you across the room. The tall wolfhound guides the way across the entryway and up the stairs. You climb ahead of Thor as he grasps the railing, only a step behind, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his large body.

You get to the top and Fenrir turns back to walk circles around you.

“Fenrir, enough, go to bed,” Thor points the dog down the hall, “now.”

The dog lets out a noise much like a grunt and a trickle of a growl. His own snaps his fingers and the hound obeys, retreating with head low as he drags his paws to the end of the hall and falls into the quilted dog bed nestled in the corner between doors. His grey eyes watch you solemnly as he settles.

“Think he had a mind to crawl in with you but he’s a bastard of a bed hog, excuse my language,” Thor explains and gestures you to a door, “Your mother’s here,” he twists the knob and pushes inward, “I’ll get the other room made up for you.”

You flinch as he squeezes your arm unexpectedly. You clench your teeth as you smother any outward reaction and wait for him to part. He disappears towards the end of the hall and opens another door, one next to Fenrir’s bed. You enter the room on tiptoes and flip on the light.

Your mother is on her stomach, her head over the side of the bed as she sprawls across the mattress. She snores loudly, reassuring you that she’s fallen into one of her usual post-wine slumbers. You watch her breathing for a moment and spin away, flitting back through the door.

You scurry down the stairs and into the kitchen, searching out a glass from the cupboards and filling it with cool water. Your ascent is more cautious as you're mindful not to spill. Thor meets you at the top as he emerges from the other bedroom.

“Thirsty?” He wonders.

“For mom,” you say, “it’ll be good for when she wakes up.”

“Hm, very thoughtful.”

You shuffle past him and go back into the spare room, softly padding around the bed and placing the glass on the night table. Your mother grunts at the gentle clunk of the glass and mumbles. You carefully step back on your heel as she suddenly rolls over on her back, her eyes fluttering.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Her words are barely discernible but her anger is clear enough in her tone, “I fucking told you not to wake me up.”

“Mom, sorry, I just–”

“You little cunt,” she snarls and snorts deeply, clicking her dry tongue as she tries to wet it, “I should smack you right–”

“Shhh, mom, it’s okay, go back to sleep,” you hurry across the room and shut off the light, “good night.”

You pull the door shut behind you as Thor waits for you in the hall. He crowds you as he stands firmly in place. You sidle past him and smile at the wall.

“I’m tired,” you yawn.

“What did she say to you?” He asks.

“Nothing, she’s drunk.”

He doesn’t push but you can sense his hesitancy. He turns slowly and waves you down the hall. He waits until you pass to follow and points you to the open door. He stops on the threshold as you enter.

“I left a shirt on the bed, you could sleep in that,” he suggests, “and Fen will be out here to look after you. I’m just in the next room,” he pivots and points to the door along the next wall, perpendicular to your own, “just in there, kitten.”

You look down at the bed and the large tee folded over the pillow. You bring your knuckles to your mouth and bite down. You don’t like sleeping in strange places and this whole night has been even stranger. You nod and keep your eyes on the bed.

“Thank you,” you mumble against your hand.

“Anything else you need?” He prompts.

You shake your head and sway on your legs anxiously.

“You sure…”

You sniff and look towards him, not at him, “um… I wouldn’t mind so much if Fen slept in here… if that’s okay?”

Thor looks over his shoulder as Fenrir raises his head, his eyes hopeful, “I suppose he wouldn’t mind if you don’t,” he shift back, “get in there, then.”

The dog is on his feet in a moment and bounding over the floor. You gasp as he hops on the bed and you giggle as he makes several circles before flopping onto his side. You hold your cheeks as you smile at the goofy pet.

“If it makes you smile, for real, then I will let you have whatever you wish,” Thor promises, “all you have to do is ask, kitten.”

Your cheek twitches. Kitten. He keeps calling you that.

“Thank you, I’m happy,” you affirm.

“Well…” Thor breathes and taps his fingers on the doorframe, “good night then.”

“Good night,” you chime back as you reach out to pet Fen, “and thank you.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #drabble series #wallflower #dark drabble #dark!drabble #au #silverfox!thor #marvel #mcu #avengers

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aspiringwarriorlibrarian · 7 months

Note

Hello,

Ive been following you for years and I love your blog. In all my years on this website I have never posted, sent an ask or a message, commented or interacted with anyone on this website in any way. However seeing your recent posts about Palestine made me feel like I had to say something.

Just because you support the “weaker” side, it doesn’t make you immune to lies and propaganda.

Please educate yourself before you spread misinformation and/or misleading info.

I am a citizen of Israel. This conflict started when Hamas brutally murdered hundreds of innocent civilians, including elderly and children. They kidnapped over a hundred more. They are known for being a terrorist organisation whose stated goal is to murder jews.

I am terrified. My people are forever scarred. I and everyone I know have lost loved ones in this war. And the fact that people like you in these terrible times choose to focus solely on the suffering of the Palestinians, ignoring and justifying our suffering, speaks volumes.

The bombings you speak of, are a retaliation for the slaughter of October 7th. Israel warns citizens in advance, in order to prevent as many casualties as possible. But we cant just ignore the murder, kidnapping, rape and harm to our people like you do. We have no choice but to defend ourselves.

We have no interest nor desire to commit genocide against the Palestinian people. If we did, we would have already done so. Instead we financially support Palestine, despite the fact they use this money not to better their lives, but to instead attack our civilians.

Beware of misinformation like the accusations against Israel for bombing the hospital in Gaza. That is a straight up lie that was proven false, and the Hamas spread it along with lies about how many people got hurt, in order to convince people like you that they are justified. And its working.

Before you accuse others, maybe check your own biases and think to yourself why a Palestinian life is worth something to you and an Israeli one isn’t.

Can you even imagine what it feels like to go online after such a tragedy for a little relief, only to see people like you calling for my death?

And yes, that is what you’re doing by supporting and encouraging the actions of Hamas. An organisation that cares more about killing innocent civilians like me than protecting its own people.

I hope that if you can’t take the time to properly understand this complicated situation, you will at least stop talking about something that you clearly don’t understand.

You know, I put all of this in a private post initially. I've been largely focused on spreading charity posts, actual concrete things that can be done to save the innocent people caught in the crossfire. But clearly, my message has been mixed, so I'll define it right here.

This is just something that seeps into my bones and I had to say it somewhere: the sheer refusal by both sides to admit what they're doing. Oh, we thought that music festival was soldiers....wait no we didn't, it was random Gazan civilians who did it instead, not us, hurt them instead. Oh we are going to wage all out war....no those innocent civilian casaulties weren't us, it was them! (No, the cause of the explosion has not been independently proven. It has, however, been proven that Israel shelled the place three days earlier as a "warning" then called ordering an evacuation shortly before.) Put down an evacuation order so short and so sudden the UN protests that civilians can't possibly get out in time, then bomb one of the convoys. Tell your countrymen the evacuation order was fake so you get more human shields. More rockets! More airstrikes! More "accidents" to the tune of hundreds of civilians dead, and you never have to carry the burden or the blame for any of it. Shoot from far enough away, target enough civilians, makes it easy, makes it fun. The glory of war with none of the guilt and none of the risk! Ain't that a wonderful thing. Ain't that a fucking joke.

I grieve for the innocent Israeli citizens slaughtered because Hamas cowards wanted to kill the defenseless. I grieve for the people in Gaza getting slaughtered because neither side cares if they live or die. The difference between the two is not that one life is worth more than the others. That is morally repugnant and fundamentally absurd. The difference is that Israel is getting aid from many nations, while other nations only give aid to Hamas, not the people of Gaza. They need humanitarian aid, they need someone to speak for them and beg for restraint, which is why I'm primarily reblogging posts that call for humanitarian aid to them and for a ceasefire so they can, at the very least, have the evacuation time they should have been allowed. It is not because their lives are worth more, but because to far too many, their lives are worth less.

I understand your pain and fear, and I am deeply sorry for your loss. I too find those rooting for Hamas or declaring that the victims deserved it for being settlers repugnant. But the people of Gaza did not do this, and if it's a choice between them living and Hamas dying, I will choose their lives every time. I will always choose life. And I refuse to apologize for that. Violence like this is a cycle, revenge and revenge and revenge again because you cannot kill an idea with bombs, only keep destroying until nothing is left to fight over. You cannot stop a cycle by continuing to spin.

#israel palestine conflict

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