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revasserium · 1 year

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Can I request prompt 60 with Daichi? Thanks a lot

requests for haikyuu and naruto are open; send me a prompt pls!

60. home

daichi: 1,962 words

00. in this universe, you meet on the last day of summer vacation, across an entire baseball field of untapped potential — him with his friends, you by yourself, but never alone. the volleyball they’re tossing around bumps up against your leg. you look up, squinting against the fierce summer sunlight, pouring down over his back like liquid gold, and for a second, you can’t see his face, only the shape of him — wide shoulders and short hair and —

“hey, sorry —”

you blink, looking down at the brightly covered ball still nestled against your leg. and when you next look up, you find his eyes instead.

someone once said that there are some infinities that are bigger than other infinities.

neither of you knew really what that meant. until now.

“no, it’s okay — here, your ball.”

“ah. thanks. uhm —”

“uh —”

you speak at the same time as you both reach for the ball. your fingers brush; the world pauses, waits, holds its breath.

“daiiichiiii! c’mon! we’re waiting for you!”

he jerks up, blinking as if pulling himself out of a daydream. he looks behind him to his waving friends. when he looks back at you, you’re already turning back to your book, the pages lined and dogearred. something inside him cracks, ever so slightly, as he takes a step back, and then two, clears his throat and dips his head.

“thanks again.”

you chance him another glance as he jogs back to his friends. you look down half a second before he looks back at you.

01. in another universe, you meet over a spilled coffee, the autumn leaves falling around you both, the air just chilly enough to paint your breaths in silvery white, spiraling up towards a gunmetal sky.

“shit — sorry — oh…”

you look up first, sting of the hot coffee still nipping at your fingertips, him reaching out to hand you a wad of crumpled tissue before he realizes and jerks back, his cheeks flushing as he fumbles to grab a fresh piece. you feel the laughter bubbling out of you like freshly poured champagne.

“it’s okay — you can just buy me another.”

it takes him a second to process, and by the time he does, someone else has scoffed and stepped around you both up to the counter to place their order.

“oh. sure, yeah — but i’ve — well —” he glances down at his watch. you feel your heart sink inside you, ever so slightly.

“no, it’s fine. go, i can just get it myself —”

“no! no —” his voice is too loud, making a few people jump as they frown and look over, disapproving and uncertain of the two bumbling, awkward teenagers holding up the line in the middle of the coffee shop.

“please,” he says, “let me buy you another.”

you blush and nod, even as his phone buzzes with some kind of message. he quickly taps out a reply before shoving the phone back into his pocket and joining you.

“yeah, alright.”

02. in another universe, you grow up together, screaming and laughing and crying together, spending every birthday at each other’s house, every win and loss by each other’s side.

“ugh! this is so stupid! why can’t i just ask him out?!” you shove your face into daichi’s pillow, thumping your legs against his bed. it smells like him, you think, this whole place does. but then again, it kind of smells like you too.

daichi sighs, glancing at you from over your problem set, his mechanical pencil poised over the multiple choice answers.

question 4 — if a tree falls in the middle of a forest (if a boy like a girl and never tells), does the falling tree still make a sound? (does the boy still get his heart broken?)

“do you want me to do it for you?”

you turn your head to stare at him, your heart right on the tip of your tongue — what if you asked me out instead?

“no.”

daichi looks back at the problem set, “then, what are you gonna do?”

you lick your lips, “can i… practice?”

“practice what?”

“asking him out.”

daichi slowly circles option d (all of the above) before putting his pencil down and turning to face you.

“sure. why not.”

you grin as hop down onto the floor of his bedroom, the pair of you facing each other. you take a long breath and open your mouth.

03. in another universe, you are both heartbroken people.

“he wasn’t ready.”

“she had… someone else.”

you purse your lips, your cheeks pink from the three shots of shochu you’d just had. outside, the winter storm shows no signs of stopping. beside you, daichi swirls around his second glass of whiskey.

“well, she was an idiot.” you turn to grin at him, your body feeling warm and loose and ready.

he turns to you with glazed over eyes and cold-bitten lips and you feel yourself falling. not for the first time.

“well, he was too.”

the bartender refills both your drinks and you raise your glasses. the shochu stings; the whiskey burns. when you both set down your empty glasses, you cock your head at him and he flashes you a lopsided smile.

“uhm…” he bites his lips, still a bit too shy. you fight the urge to lean forward and bite it for him.

you flash him your most charming smile, “wanna get outta here?”

daichi hiccups, his eyes going wide. a second later, he slams down a bill on the counter and pulls you to him.

“y-yeah. let’s get outta here.”

03. in that universe, you stumble back to your apartment, but by time you get there, you are no longer strangers. his hands are cold, yes — but your skin is hot, and the way he groans against your lips sets your entire soul on fire. he’s a bit too gentle as he undresses you, but you nip at his lips, hiss against his skin, and tell him that you want him to show you everything she never got to see.

he growls in his chest, shoves you back against your bedroom door and tears your underwear from you with his teeth.

he makes you come three times before letting himself go, his forehead pressed to yours, your fingers laced, palm to palm, his hips bruising as he thrusts into you, panting, the moonlight spilling down over his back like liquid silver. and like this, all you can see is the shape of him, his broad shoulders, his short hair —

“d-dai-ichi! please!”

you feel yourself clench around him, the white-hot pleasure punching through you as he fucks you through your release, his breath hot against your shoulder even as you twitch around him.

“f-fuck… nngh —”

you puff out a breath as you feel him jerk against you, his arms shaking as he fights to hold himself up, before you wrap your arms around him and tug him close, grinning into the mess of his hair as he collapses over you.

“so…” you ask, after a few minutes of ragged breaths, a few seconds of collecting the scatted pieces of yourselves from across the twisted bedsheets, “what was she like?”

daichi shakes his head, turning to look at you with a crooked smile, “i… honestly, i don’t remember.”

you grin, turning to face him completely, “good… i don’t remember him either.”

02. in that universe, you sit across from him on his bedroom floor, your fists clenched in your lap, him sitting directly across from you. your multiple choice worksheets lay forgotten on the floor by the foot of the bed. outside, the spring sways on the barely blooming peach blossoms, collecting dew in the warming night air.

“uhm — so, i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while…” you say, looking anywhere but at daichi’s face.

daichi feels his stomach clench, his heart skitter and thump, a raw, wild, bewildered thing, untamed and untamable as it tumbles inside his chest.

“yes?” he tries to keep his voice steady. he’s not sure if he succeeds.

you force yourself to look up at him, finally. finally.

(if a girl finally, finally, admits her feelings, does she have the power to heal a broken heart?)

“i — i know we’ve grown up together, and we’ve always been best friends —”

“mhm, yeah,” daichi nods, forcing himself through the paces. he has to do this, he has to do this for her. but —

“but if — somewhere along the line… i think — i think i started to have feelings for you — and i know, i know it’s weird — but… i don’t think i could forgive myself if i didn’t… if i didn’t at least try…”

you squeeze your eyes shut and lower your eye, bending at the waist till your nose is three inches from the floor of daichi’s bedroom.

daichi stares, his mind unwilling, perhaps unable, to process everything you’d just said.

(wait, i thought — i thought she was talking about someone else! i thought —)

“daichi… will you go out with me?”

01. in that universe, he writes his number on the coffee slip right before he hands you your brand new drink.

“thanks… you didn’t need to do that,” you blush, taking the coffee, letting it’s warmth seep through your fingers as you both walk to the door.

“yeah, but… i wanted to,” he says, grinning as he turns to look at you, his own cheeks dusted in the color of falling leaves.

“well… i’m glad you did.”

you take a long sip of your coffee, letting the sweet and bitter burn through you, letting the shifting winds blow loose your hair, kiss passed your own insecurities. but daichi’s phone’s already ringing again, and you content yourself with watching him fumble as he answers, stuttering into the receiver.

“suga! i’m coming, i’m coming! i just —” he ducks as he cover his mouth, hissing into the mic something that sounds suspiciously like ‘met a super cute girl and gave her my number’.

you laugh as he raises a hand to wave at you, half-skipping, half-jogging down the street.

“call me, okay?” he shouts, motioning with his hand, miming up to his other ear even as he almost smashes into a couple walking down the street in the other way.

“okay!” you call back, laughing as you look down at the hastily scribbled number on the coffee slip.

00. in this universe, you slam your book shut, jolting to your feet. somewhere in the distance, the cicadas are chirruping loud enough to drown out the rushing tides of destiny.

“u-uhm — sorry, excuse me!” you shout, so loud that he nearly trips over his own feet.

“h-ha?” he looks back at you, all amber eyes and sunset smiles and in the flicker of a moment, both of you wonder if you can see the stray strands of a hundred thousand universes playing out in the spaces between you.

“what’s your name?” you ask, your fingers digging into the flesh of your own palms. and somehow, you already know the answer.

behind him, daichi’s friends hoot and holler.

he blushes, clutching the volleyball to his chest as he takes a breath. he scratches the back of his head as he looks away and looks back. this time, your eyes catch, perfect, shocking, present tense.

“sawamura… daichi.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #sawamura daichi x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu smut #floofy floof floof #haiCUTIES #haikyuu fanfic #well;;;; did we really think i was gonna do anything NORMAL my first piece back? no.#the answer is no. lol.#i really do love the multiple universes trope tho...#anyway. it's good to be back. pls tell me what you thought/send in some prompts! :D #sawamura daichi scenarios #sawamura daichi imagines #hq scenarios #sawamura daichi

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thorst-jpg · 1 year

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so excited to post the full version of the kingsman/spy au for i drew for @satisfaction-zine!

leftover sales are open rn if you wanna see more of the spicy, glorious art and fics that were created for this zine 👀👀

#sakuatsu #haikyuu!!#sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #hq!!#nsft #kingsman au #my art #so the basic concept behind my piece was that atsumu and sakusa are both rival kingsman agents #(are they teammates? do they work for diff branches?? idk idk whatever floats your boat #the important part is that they are rivals 😌)#and atsumu gets captured (lets himself get captured)#and sakusa gets sent in to rescue him but can't resist teasing atsumu a little first 🤭

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kindahoping4forever · 2 years

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Full length debut live performance of Blender @ Take My Hand DC - 5 July 2022

#ty to the anons for sending in clips! at first I tried to piece them together but lmaoo that was a disaster thankfully i found a full clip #5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #michael clifford #all #video #blender #5sos5 #take my hand tour #tmht dc #kh4f post #if something closer or more HQ pops up obvs I'll let you know #but in the meantime #what a fucking bop

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reyryz · 11 months

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anyways heres my nostalgic childhood kuroo and daishou being best friends before everything falls apart and they become enemies/rivals in high school piece im not sure i'll ever finish

#reezdoodles #hq!!#kuroo tetsurou #daishou suguru #kuroshou #but theyre platonic in this piece #i am so normal abt them.....#backstory to this #uhhhh first year middle school daishous in a new school and he just lost his first game and kuroos giving him advice #its good advice to be fair #the beginning of the end #insert my headcanon of 'why dont u do everything u can in ur power to win' quote comes from kuroo actually #and daishou rlly takes it to heart

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baby-xemnas · 11 months

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Your law is peak law. It’s cannon in the best of ways I swear. Semi goth fashion, air of badassery, general sadist in his hyper focus of surgery, oddly creepy. Also caves like a bitch to anything moderately cute (corasan bepo ect) and is so overprotective of his friends they don’t even get much of a chance to fight becuase he’s already disassembled the energy and look he’s so proud of himself

i am soooo happy he comes across like that.

law is a hilarious type of character that i love thats pretty fucking cool and intimidating from a distance and then you come closer and he is WEIRD and intimidating but like in a creepy way so sense of self preservation dictates establishing the distance back again

him being a doctor is the most normal thing about him but in that he is so extreme and exceptional

i love that hes just an INTENSE guy to the point that its off putting and im very happy that people enjoy me making loving fun of him

#never reading dressrosa or punk hazard #ive read posts abt it i know enough #only thing im missing out on is cora but i saw clips of that too so i think im good #i love him of course he is perfect #anyway one true law is the law thats with bepo so if im basing my bepo characterization on a few scenes why law should get a different #treatment? im not giving him any!#those arcs just seemed like a lot i have no desire to read them #anyway law is funny as shit #weird comparison but his post timeskip moe hit me in a similar way that when back in hq days i got the appeal of akaashi #they are very different but that -hot/seemingly put together at first glance - fucking psycho if you look closer #i love that for hottie characters #pre ts law's vibe being a piece of shit stoner is entirely blamed on the bucket hat and that hoodie #even tho his character didnt changed #but its funny how its the vibe you know the energy #seeing that one excellent lawbepo artist on pixiv draw law be an obsessive weirdo did it all #anonymous

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levia-kun · 3 months

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tbh the more i think about it, the more i just dont want to post my art on tumblr anymore. i think i might be done for real. at least on this website :/

this is so frustrating

genuinly the only reason i havent deleted is because reblogs forcibly archive ur stuff and its not even about whether i have been scraped (im sure i have) but its more so about the feeling of the expoloitation built into the fucking TOS, i have zero faith in the "opt out" option, it's probably just a cosmetic.

So to "protect" my art for the simple purpose of not getting fucking exploited by the very same website, I "must" glaze, nightshade if possible. maybe add a readable watermark with good font, so I can be found more easily and whatever.

But for what? slightly more visiblity? ppl only like, barely reblog, let alone leave comments, whether tags or replies.

If I wanted more visibility I wouldn't be drawing 200+ artworks of my niche rarepair. or mod the rarepair's server, run events.

This is all a hobby; I don't earn money, I barely made even last convention I attended and that's only when not counting my travel and food costs.

I get what people mean when they want you to keep fighting and post art. But it's so fucking frustrating for seemingly no one to realise how exhausting this is to deal with!? for virtually no payback too.

sigh

yeah i think im done with posting art on tumblr and will slowly move off this site.

#big rant time #on a sidenote #I also really hate glazing #because i spent a lot of time on those drawings and i dont like it very much to see it warped in a sense #i was already super unhappy when i glazed the new year drawing #i spent so much fuckign time on my paintings #i'd love to just post HQ versions of them instead #and glazing doodles is fairly noticeable #not super #but when ur not familiar with the original #so i end up being bothered with them too #even tho i care way less about the image quality here #://////#not to speak of the extra steps glazing adds to the process of simply posting #this is just exhausting #like ive to wait a couple minutes for the result through webglaze #then if i dont like it enough i rerun it through but this time resetting the artstyle #etc. etc.#i ended up glazing teh LNY piece three times because i caught a mistake in the first glaze and then had to glaze twice again #because i didnt like the 2nd result #thats like #so much time added onto the already lenghty process #a step i dont even like

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hirookouji · 10 months

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in the event that these two ever end up interacting *cough* college roommates au *cough* i think they would be really hilarious together actually (based on these photos lol)

[id in alt]

#daishou suguru #bokuto koutaro #haikyuu!!#hq!!#bokushou #reezarts #technically platonic in this but u can read into it #daishou is a mean bitch and bokuto does know this and tries to reign him in #rein***#but unfortunately for everyone involved when daishous funny hes really funny #the stageplay selfies have opened up a very fun possibility where daishou is #an affectionate social butterfly #which i think is great and will be folding into my own personak headcanons which i can now make tangible bc i like drawing again #first up on the list. is daishou and bokuto friends #mainly bc. its hilarious to me #i will not explain further u just have to trust me... sorry #this is where my sideblog's icon comes from LMAO #this is actually a really old piece... anyways #entry one in the college roommates au #the idea is that these r. cute photos on their fridge #if we get lucky there will be more #and kuroos their roommate too and hes taking the photo (hes seething)#edit: the context for those photos is SO FUNNY.#haruto jealous bc fukuzawa hes taking pics of fukuzawa being cutesey w other cast members #and HE cant be in them #so they take their own pics lol #the pic of haruto taking their picture is SO funny bc he looks so sad and mad abt it

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missmeinyourbones · 2 years

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OK so i should have a megumi piece ready for tomorrow :D that is my goal and you guys are responsible for holding me accountable

#and then next week i should have an hq icks and my first suna piece 😻#scary scary #but exciting #Halloween is coming and i can feel my bones getting stronger

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icedhoneyy · 2 years

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i'm this close 👌 to just saying fuck it and posting the oikawa piece that has been sitting in my drafts for a whole year

#literally my first piece for hq ever? i think?#yeah #got halfway through an never figured out how to end it #and it has been sitting unfinished on my drafts for a whole year #and its starting to bother me for some reason #mumble.bee

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xbellaxcarolinax · 1 year

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Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something.

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken.

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel."

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for.

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration.

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring.

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me."

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you.

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch.

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708.

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda.

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.”

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.”

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.”

“Miguel, what the fuck—”

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.”

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?”

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.”

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal.

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count.

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you.

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side.

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat.

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste.

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core.

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo."

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass.

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had.

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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familyabolisher · 10 months

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I've walked past the Barbie branded selfie booth, sat through the reel of old commercials that precede the previews, and watched Margot Robbie learn to cry, and I’m still not sure what “doing the thing and subverting the thing,” which Greta Gerwig claimed as the achievement of Barbie in a recent New York Times Magazine profile, could possibly mean. This was the second Gerwig profile the magazine has run. I wrote the first one, in 2017, which in hindsight appears like a warning shot in a publicity campaign that has cemented Gerwig’s reputation as so charming and pure of heart that any choice (we used to call them compromises) she makes is justified, a priori, by her innocence. This is a strange position for an adult to occupy, especially when the two-hour piece of branded content she is currently promoting hinges on a character who discovers that her own innocence is the false product of a fallen world. But—spoiler alert!—the point of Barbie’s “hero’s journey” is less to reconcile Barbie to death than to reconcile the viewer to culture in the age of IP.

“Doing the thing and subverting the thing”: I haven’t finished working out the details, but I think the rough translation would be Getting rich and not feeling feel bad about it. (Or, for the viewer: Having a good time and not feeling bad about it.) One must labor under a rather reduced sense of the word “subvert” to be impressed with poking loving fun at product misfires such as Midge (the pregnant Barbie), Tanner (the dog who poops), and the Ken with the earring, especially given that the value of all these collectors’ items has, presumably, not decreased since the film opened. Barbie may feature a sassy tween sternly informing Robbie’s Stereotypical Barbie that the tiny-waisted top-heavy billion-dollar business she represents has made girls “feel bad” about themselves, but if anyone uttered the word “anorexia,” I missed it. (There was a reason Todd Haynes told the story of Karen Carpenter’s life and death with Barbies, and it wasn’t because an uncanny piece of molded plastic has the magical power to resolve the contradictions of girlhood and global capitalism.) There’s a bit about Robbie going back into a box in the Mattel boardroom, but Barbies aren’t made in an executive suite; they come from factories in China. On the one hand, it’s weird for a film about a real-world commodity to unfold wholly in the realm of ideas and feelings, but then again, that’s pretty much the definition of branding. Mattel doesn’t care if we buy Barbie dolls—they’re happy to put the word “Barbie” on sunglasses and T-shirts, or license clips from the movie for an ad for Google. OK, here’s my review: When Gerwig first visited Mattel HQ in October 2019, the company’s stock was trading at less than twelve dollars a share. Today the price is $21.40.

Christine Smallwood, Who Was Barbie?

#currently reading #sorry for not being The Ignorer re: bad IP film but this is good

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thedogsleg · 1 year

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I FOUND ALL THAT FUCLING ART I LOST LMG OMG OMG SO MUCH SHIT!!

#doodles and half finished paintings and my first drawings of OCs abd shit i compleatly 4got about!!#AAAAAAA #AND MOST IMPORTANTLY!! HQ VERSIONS OF MY 2 FAVE PIECES EVER MADE. SO!!

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obscurus-sims · 1 year

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🎀SKIN N26 for toddlers and infants🎀

ver A: 24 swatches, toddlers & infants, all genders

ver B: 51 swatches, toddlers & infants, all genders

EYES N14: 100 colors, all ages, all genders

everything is HQ compatible, previews were done with HQ mod, works with makeup sliders (but you need sliders mod by thepancake1 and MizoreYukii)

DL ( early access at patreon )

Thanks for supporting me!

🐾

PS: In the near future I'll try move away from big sets, making more one piece cc or small sets of cc, so this is my first part for babies! 😊

#ts4 skin #s4 skin #sims 4 skin #s4 infants #sims 4 infants cc #ts4 infants skin #ts4 infant cc #sims 4 infant cc #ts4 infants genetic #ts4 toddlers #sims 4 toddlers #ts4 toddlers skin #s4 eyes #sims 4 eyes #ts4 eyes

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goteique · 19 days

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❝ ATLEAST WE SEE THE SAME MOON ❞ + ( sakusa kiyoomi, hinata shoyo, atsumu miya, bokuto koutaro,meian shūgo )

cw. | headcanon/scenarios about how they act while being away from you vs how they act when they actually get to see you; gn-reader, boyfriend headcanons, first-time long-distance relationships, fluff, brief mentions of smut, established relationship. || redirect to blog navigation.

notes. | recently rewatched hq so here's something to get rid of my nostalgic brain rot.

☆ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a man of less talk and more work most of the time. He is the kind to miss you day and night without diluting his efficiency in the game. Even texting seems hard for him a phone call seems a little too demanding. He will call you when he is at the far end of a high cliff yet not tell you how much he misses you, your voice, your touch around the house. . . everything in general. But after calling for onetime it starts to become frequent and his talk is full of: "Did you miss me?", " Do you even miss me?", " you rarely call me"; even though he is the one who has told you not to call when you feel like it yet he is the one to call you to say that he misses you a lot and most of the time it is out of context. Maybe you are talking about your day, or some local news but when you finish he just spurts "I miss you". There are two seconds of silence then he says again, "I miss you a lot." But when he is finally home, with you on the same bed and inside you, he would still say, "Did you miss me?" and then places open mouth kisses all over your body saying, " because I sure missed you a lot."

★HINATA SHOYO

Hinata is used to being away from his favorite people but he is not used to being away from you. His texts are frequent and regularly calls you to check on you but when he misses you he never tells instead he visits famous tourist spots and video calls you, shows you those famous tourist spots through video call and says, "i wish we could see this together," and then goes on autopilot mode of talking. You ask him to repeat what he just said and he does repeat except what you want to hear. It is a pulling-pushing game and the end results are embarrassment, laughter, and confession. He never gives a room to complain but time and place keep you apart from him. He often sends you parcels containing matching pieces of jewellery and outfits. And after such deliveries, he visits you and brings souvenier for everyone, even for you but says, "Don't worry this is not the only thing i came for to give you." So, when everyone is sleeping in the house and you two are awake and barely clad. He says, "I've more souvenirs for you," as he admires the bite marks over your body while hooking his arms around your thighs, getting ready for the next step.

✮ ATSUMU MIYA

Atsumu's way of telling you that he misses you is not very stealthy but if you tease too much, his verbal expression comes to a halt since he will build a cocoon around him. Sure, he wears his heart of his sleeve, sometimes on his face but he is never the one to be good with teasing especially coming from his beloved. So, he regularly sends you gifts with an endearing note and when he finally comes home unannounced, he is found in the bedroom with a box full of all those notes he send you, crying. He is crying for two reasons. one: his surprise did not go as he planned. two: he is missing you right now more than ever. When you finally come home, both of you get surprised at first and then he goes back to his whining self about how he wanted to surprise you, talking about his matches and food. Talking about food is a must because he will never admit how good Ongiri MIya is and as he keeps talking he follows you everywhere you go, every corner of the house, and gives you the puppiest face he can manage if you do not let him inside the shower with you. But you actually do, because the owner did miss this puppy.

★ BOKUTO KOUTARO

Bokuto makes time for you every day. He is the kind who tells you each and every detail of his each day before going to bed when he misses you. He tells you that he is coming over next weekend to see you and gets pouty when you are not surprised. It is not a wonder to you that it totally slipped his mind that he actually did mention that he is coming to see you but when you mention that you have specifically taken a day off since he was coming he is instantly is in his high spirits. Because he gets to spend time with you, He gets to spend each and every moment with you,he gets to go out with you, he gets to binge-watch shows with you. There are so many things he get to do wuth you just because he told you that he is coming to see you beforehand. isn't that great? Well, of course it is. As much as he is excited to do all these things, he ends up doing nothing instead spending the whole day in bed with you: talking and listening, talking and touching, touching and kissing, kissing and fucking and then fucking and talking again. If you say that you have to cook he says, "can't we order a take out today?" just so he could cuddle you just fiften minutes more.

☆MEIAN SHŪGO

Meian has a reserved time for you, during weekends unless a match comes up. Everyone knows that even team-mates, parents and coach. He asks you to keep the video call on and do whatever you are doing. It is a nice feeling, almost having him like he is with you, around you even if it is through those rectangular screens. But late at night, he gets a little too sneaky and demanding asking what you are wearing? or says that there's something on your shoulder even if there is not. He takes the longest detour to tell you that he misses you. But all of that just sublimes when you say that you are going to shower. He keeps quiet for a moment and ends uo saying the most common reaction,"without me?" There are times when the answer is yes with a huge nod from your end but there are also times, when you say, "No. You can watch." But Meian does not survive your whole shower time. He even ends the video call just before you are fully naked yet deep down in his heart he believes he can improve with time.

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