Tumgik
#maybe a bit more than a teensy bit
Text
WOULD YOU GUYS LIKE TO SEE MY FUGLY UGLY ASS ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE X FAHRENHEIT 451 CROSSOVER DRAWING THAT I WAS FORCED TO DO FOR SCHOOL….. ITS SO UGLY AND MONTAG IS
WHITE.
AND THE HOUNDS ARE DISGUSTING THE COLORING IS SO SHITTY AND MILDRED …. Well ok she looks alright kindof but the COLORING ….. SKETCH WAS BETTER but do you guys. Do you still want to see it…….,,,,,,
ALSO NO OFFENSE TO WHITE PEOPLE PLEASE I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶😁👍 within reason
#like ok maybe it isn’t. THAT bad#NO NO I TAKE THAT BACK I JUST LOOKED AT IT RIGHT NOW AND THE COMPOSITION IS ALL FUCKING VOER THE PLACE#IT. IT IS. THAT BAD#IF YOU GUYS SAY YESS YOULL SEE#ok but nasty bad art aside I know some of you will be asking why white Montag is such a bad thing and#there isn’t anything wrong with it!!! it’s just that for me personally#after I did a bit more thinking I was. physically incapable of perceiving Montag as anything other than POC/nonwhite#so when I look back at my old f451 art and stare into the eyes of a pale skittish twink it just#it doesn’t click. like that isn’t MY Montag if ykwim#now trembling BROWN skittish twink. that’s a different story#AGAIN I DONT have any issues with ppl making their own versions white I just think that . for me specifically. he looked a bit funny#a little off. a bit too crackerish for my liking#where is bros melanin 😭#I’m complaining right now but if I wanted to I could just… go in and try and make the skin tone darker#I might do that depending on how tired I feel after doomscrolling#also if it matters even though I have read the book over at least 8 times now not once have I touched either of the movies.#and it will STAY THAT WAY. until I completely log my notes for the book#then I can move on to the movies 🥰#but I will admit 2018 did sort of lead me to having a change of heart w my design. just a little. just a teensy bit. kinda. sort of?#actually not really now that I think about it#I have my own reasons.#TOO MANY WHITE PEOPLE MY EYES THEY BURN AAAYHHHHH MY EYES OW OW OW OWIEEEE#my Beatty design was so white that my eyes developed stage 4 cataracts#I needed a palate cleanser that WASNT Millie… oh god my Millie design…#she was white there too. terrible#it’s okay… 💔 I’ve since learned and moved on#ARGH GUYS I DONT HATE WHITE PEOPLE I JUST THINK THAT MORE SKIN COLOR VARIATIONS WOULD E NICE
5 notes · View notes
fictionadventurer · 1 year
Text
Me: Mildly worried that my sister bought me the Mr. Roger's Neighborhood card game for Christmas. Sure, it's supposedly for adults, but it still implies I'm childish. I have slightly more nostalgia for the series than the rest of the family, but it's not like it was ever a major part of my personality, so it's slightly offensive that she thought of me as the obvious recipient for this gift.
Also me: Why is there no Anna Platypus card in this deck?? How do Officer Clemmons and Henrietta Cow get billing over the entire Platypus family??
20 notes · View notes
Text
vega fuckers please lend me your strength in these trying times 🕯️🕯️🕯️
10 notes · View notes
evansbby · 2 years
Note
I'm just over here imagining...you realize you're pregnant and the father is frat boy young buzzcut Chris, and you call him over to tell him but he shows up drunk/high and just aggressively shoves you over the counter top because if he's giving you his time you better get his dick wet
Oh he would be so mean🌚 you’d try telling him you’re pregnant but he’d have such a one-track mind, only thinking of sex… and he wouldn’t listen at all, just have his way with you and then fall asleep 😴
16 notes · View notes
ddejavvu · 7 months
Note
Can i request a hot interrogator but w spencer😭😭and he recognizes her symptoms of attraction and theyre both just so awkward and derek or someone else has to come in and save him
i deviated from your plotline just a teensy tiny bit and it's not as focused on how they both can read her but it is mentioned! i hope that's alright <3 also i did tag this with morgan's name because towards the end he's teasing her just as much and i'd fall to my knees for him in an instant so i think that's fair
--
You give yourself away immediately with your reaction to seeing Spencer walk in. You don't know it, but the doctor has been watching your demeanor for five minutes on the other side of the glass, and only when your eyes met his own did you become tense.
Before you'd been almost bored, but not in the overconfident way that criminals often are. You were more restlessly bored, drumming your fingers on the table and peering intently at the graffiti etched into the metal surface.
When he steps inside you straighten to greet him, but words fail you as your throat runs dry. The most handsome man you've ever seen, something straight out of a romance novel steps into the room, and something thuds to the pit of your stomach.
You're not guilty but you feel it, you feel like a criminal under his scrutinizing gaze.
"Hello, Y/N," He offers, smiling measuredly at you, "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm here to question you on what you might have witnessed earlier."
You'd been in a gas station during an armed robbery. The robber hadn't shot you, but that was only for time's sake, as putting a bullet through your chest would have taken away valuable seconds that he chose instead to use rushing out the back door and away from the sirens out front.
You'd been at the business end of a gun, but still you're more panicked now, hands lowering themselves into your lap when they show signs of trembling.
"Can you remember what the shooter looked like?" He asks.
Brown hair.
"He had brown hair," You speak for the first time since the agent's entry.
No he didn't.
He had blonde hair. The man in front of you has brown hair, tucked behind his ears endearingly.
"Or- uh, blonde. He was blonde."
"Blonde hair," He nods encouragingly, his lips a warm pinkish shade as he sits down across from you, "That's good. Do you remember how tall he was?"
Spencer is tall. He's tall even when seated, like he is now, his stature surely intimidating when compared to your own, and you blink the thought away, trying to recall where on the shelf beside him the man's shoulder had come up to.
"He was a little taller than the shelves," You recall, keeping your eyes on a rather crude word etched into the metal tabletop to keep yourself from ogling Dr. Reid, "Maybe 6'1."
"Alright, good." Spencer praises, and you feel your limbs actually melting, surely mush by now. He hesitates, placing his hands atop the cool desktop, "Y/N, I'd like to do a cognitive interview with you."
You wait for further explanation, but when it comes, you guiltily wish you had been killed earlier. Because if you were dead Doctor Spencer Reid wouldn't take your hands in his own, and tell you to close your eyes in a smooth, low voice.
"I want you to put yourself back there," He prompts, squeezing your hands gently, "But I'm right here. I know you must have been scared in the moment, but I need you to help us with this, and try to remember what his face looked like. Can you do that?"
You can't muster words, but you nod, and evidently Spencer's eyes are open to catch it. He squeezes your hands again, "Alright. You're standing in the gas station. You're getting breakfast before work. You hear shouting, then a gunshot. Where do you look?"
You look at the backs of your eyelids, desperately willing away the mental image of Spencer Reid's face.
"What do you do?"
You pray that he's not a mind-reader, that he can't hear the words 'adorable' and 'terrifying' and 'perfect' all at once.
"Y/N," He prompts, after a moment of your silence, "What do you do?"
"I can't-" Your eyes snap open, and you wrench your hands out of his grasp, "I'm- I'm sorry, I can't do this."
Spencer's hands come out to hover in front of him, a placating gesture but one that doesn't work.
"Okay, that's alright. But please- sit down," He watches warily as you stand, heading for the door like you're exiting a cafe and not a secure government facility, "Y/N, I need to ask you a few more questions-"
"Woah there," The door opens before you can reach it, but the man that shoulders his way through shows no sign of letting you out. He's tall, darker-skinned than Spencer, and broad chested, something you really don't need to think about after the hand-holding fiasco.
"We can't let you leave just yet," The man smiles sympathetically, and his hand comes to rest oh-so-naturally on your bicep as he turns you back towards the table, "I know you're freaking out; anyone would after looking into the barrel of a gun. But you're safe now, okay? And we need your help to keep other people safe. So let's sit down," The man guides you back into your chair, and you think you might have dropped straight to your knees if he'd asked you to. He keeps his large hands firmly, warmly on your shoulders, and as Spencer takes your hands in his again he squeezes them.
"Alright Pretty Boy," The man behind you speaks, and you swear you can hear a glimmer of amusement in his voice despite not being able to see his face, "On with the interview. Don't worry Y/N, we'll do this together."
2K notes · View notes
patrophthia · 8 months
Note
hii! I really loved your stories! can you write something about theo×hufflepuff again? I don't have any preferences, whathever comes to you mind (well maybee some enemies/don't like each other at the begging haha) thank u))
wanted to do rivals to lovers but i failed, like really badly so here’s just fluff with theo envying reader a teensy bit
make it make sense | theodore nott
pairing: theodore nott x reader
genre: fluff, meet cute, established relationships, tasm reference (just cuz)
part of my 1k celebration event !
Tumblr media
You and Theodore makes no sense. Not to your friends, not to his friends, not to anyone —Merlin, not even yourselves. 
How the two of you got today is and will always be a story Theodore could never wrap his head around. 
At first glance, the two of you are direct opposites. A Hufflepuff and a Slytherin made absolutely no sense at first sight. And it’s exactly what he thought when his feelings towards you —which were, at first, resentment and envy (you were doing better in classes than he was and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him) turns to fascination, and maybe even adoration. 
Not in a weird way, of course. Not in a way where he’d stare at you from across the room where you’re sitting, chatting with your friends with a pretty on your face before accidentally meeting his eyes and making him avert his gaze kind of way. Or well —maybe it was. You were beautiful, can you blame him?
Not only were you beautiful, you were also kind. So incredibly kind, hardworking, and your sense of justice is so strong you knocked him off his feet. Literally. 
The first time he talked to you —really talked to you— was when you body slammed him to the ground whilst chasing someone who’d had picked on your friend. It sounds cliche and sometimes, when he feels an overwhelming urge to kiss you; he deflects it by joking about how you ‘fell’ for him. 
You were quick to pick yourself up off of him, eyes wide as you helped him back to his feet with repetitive apologies. “I’m sorry, I really should’ve looked where I was going but I was so worried that he’d get away (and he did) that I bumped into you.
Are you okay though? Should I bring you to the infirmary? What’s your name? How many fingers am I holding up?” 
Theodore fixes his attention on you. “I’m fine, let’s not bother Madam Pomfrey about this,” he says first, then he glances between you and your fingers, eyes glinting with ridicule, “Zero.” 
He’s messing with you. That’s . . . A relief. Unless he actually couldn’t tell that you’re holding up fo—
“Four,” he tells you anyways, he then adds. “Nott.” 
“What?” 
“My names Nott.” He tells you. 
And you smile at him. You’re kind enough to smile at him even when he’s coming off as a bit of an arse to you, you still smile at him. “Oh I know,” you say, “just wanted to make sure you knew it too.” 
He blinks at you. Slowly. So slow that it almost resembles a cat’s blinking. “Well, I do.” 
“Good.” He’s still looking at you. And you’re still looking at him. Neither of you wanting to go back to your separate lives just yet. “Are you seeing anyone?” 
Theodore wills himself to not show any real reaction to your words, only keeping stoic as he answers. “I’m not,” he says, “are you asking to make sure I knew it too?” 
“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to know.” 
And you leave. So suddenly that Theodore has to stare at your leaving figure for a good three minutes before finally pulling himself back together. 
So maybe the two of you made no sense being with one another, but it’s been like that from the start —how you left him standing there will forever be a core memory for him— and he’s more than just content to be in love with you now. And if he’s being honest, does things making sense matter when you’re in love? 
Not in his books. 
1K notes · View notes
sehnsuchts-trunken · 8 months
Text
Oh No, There's An Arm Around My Waist
Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader  2k words
summary: You wake up in the same bed as Bradley Bradshaw. That's it. Or is it?
tagging a few people who said they'd like a part two... it took me a while but whatever, right? @roostergooster @pono-pura-vida @chassy21 @startrekfangirl2233-fic-recs
sequel to “Oh No, There's Only One Bed”, can be read seperately tho
top gun masterlist
Tumblr media
The light that filtered through the windows was golden, almost, warm and comfortable and you were cozy and sleepy and smiling, giving yourself all the time in the world to wake up. You blinked your eyes open slowly and tugged the covers all the way up to your chin and shimmied a little further down into the warmth of the bed and for just a few seconds, enjoyed the feeling of being pulled closer.
Then you ripped open your eyes again and froze to the very tips of your toes.
You were being pulled closer.
There was an arm around your waist, a body behind yours, breath on your neck. And with a start, the events of last night came rushing back to you.
The booked out hotel. The one bedroom. The one bed. Bradley. Bradley's words, Bradley's touches, Bradley's goddamn pajama-briefs. That you hadn't been able to fall asleep. The way he'd hugged you close. How you'd almost confessed your feelings to him.
Those fucking feelings. Those feelings you'd kept buried inside of you for so long, so goddamn long that you had never even thought to tell another living, breathing human being. Not your family, not your squad, nobody because hell, Bradley was a friend, he was your friend, and nothing more than that.
But now here you were, wrapped up tightly in his arms in the same bed. And he was only moving closer. Pushing closer to you, pulling you closer to him, burying his face in your hair and splaying his hand out on your stomach.
So maybe - just maybe - there was a teensy tinsy part of your friendship that was more than a friendship. Had perhaps always been more than a friendship. Longing glances you'd always put off as looking out for each other. Kisses on the cheek. Kisses on the forehead. Kisses on your hair. His arm around your waist, around your shoulders. Things you'd played off as him just being generally affectionate. But maybe that hadn't been it. Maybe that wasn't it. Maybe those moments when you'd almost kissed, maybe they'd been real, not just figments of your imagination - like after deadly missions, stumbling into each others arms, or slow dancing the night of Mav's wedding, or that one time in the jacuzzi.
You didn't know just how long you were lying there, on your side, trying to steady your breathing and keep as calm and as quiet as possible, not moving an inch. You didn't want to know. Your thoughts were running in circles, pondering the same questions again and again and each time arriving at different conclusions. A part of you was screaming to do something. Anything. But that probably would've been mental suicide. So you kept still and hoped, begged, prayed to all gods you could think of that this wasn't some dream and that your imagination was not off pranking you right now.
Finally - it had to have been at least half an hour - Bradley shifted behind you. He groaned, pushed away from you just the tiniest bit, pulled his arm from around you and brought his hand up to shield him from the sun.
"Good morning", he muttered, all deep, raspy morning voice, instantly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn't trust yourself to turn around just then - maybe he wasn't pressed into your back anymore but that didn't mean that he wasn't still way too close.
"How'd you know I'm awake?", you asked instead, already missing his warmth (even though the room certainly wasn't cold).
"I've got a sixth sense when it comes to you", he chuckled. He'd turned onto his side again and was talking to you, directly (indirectly? to the back of your head?) now, and you'd known him long enough that you were well aware of it. And well aware of the fact that he'd stare at you until you turned around to him no matter how long it took. He was stubborn like that. So you did turn, even closer to him now, folding your hands between cheek and pillow and biting your lip to ground you just the slightest. To remind you that this was still reality. That all of this was happening to you right now.
That Bradley was, in fact, lying on his pillow next to you, with adorable bed hair and a cheeky smile and a bare torso and way too few inches in between you. You could feel yourself tense up again.
"Like you knew tonight that I wasn't falling asleep?", you asked, a bit breathless.
Bradley nodded.
"Exactly like that."
"Well, thank you then." You couldn't help but smile at him a little. "I slept like a baby."
He laughed at that and for a second you closed your eyes and just soaked up the sound. You could very well imagine always waking up next to him like that. With his laughter fanning against your cheek, his fingers softly running up your arm almost as though he thought that if he did it slowly enough, you wouldn't find anything strange about it.
You didn't.
It wasn't strange, per se. It was new and electrifying and encouraging you in your (childish? foolish?) belief that maybe, yes, maybe you were more than a friend to him as well. Maybe he was testing the waters. Maybe he was going further already. Touching you like that, it was... bold. Wasn't it?
Maybe you had to be a little bolder as well. Just the way you'd wanted to tonight.
So you pulled a hand from underneath your cheek and, tentatively, very deliberately, brushed through his curls, all the while heavily avoiding looking him in the eyes. You could feel the way he was staring at you, burning holes into your skin, but you just pushed through and ignored him as best as you could. You were already feeling too close to passing out.
When you pulled your hand back, his fingers had reached your shoulder, dancing along the spaghetti straps of your nightdress, and you took a deep breath in before you allowed yourself to meet his eyes after all.
"Sorry", you whispered, getting a little more nervous now. "You had a bedhead."
Bradley made a sound in the back of his throat that you couldn't quite identify as any particular emotion.
"No apologising", he muttered, his eyes falling down to his fingers on your skin as he sneaked his way up over the covers and brushed his thumb along your throat, your chin, your jaw. "Just do it again."
You swallowed hard. But who were you to deny him? So despite your racing heart and despite your screaming mind, you reached out and tangled your fingers in his curls again. You were sure now he was on the same wavelength as you. Right? He had to be. This wasn't platonic behaviour. This was nowhere close to platonic. Was it? And if not... What were you supposed to do with that information? What did it mean? Had Bradley liked you, too, for just as long? For longer? How much time, how much relationship had you missed out on because you'd been too afraid to act on your feelings? How would you go from here? You couldn't... You wouldn't... Would you?
"You need to stop thinking so much", Bradley said softly, pulling you gently from your thoughts back to reality - of his thumb smoothing over your skin, of your fingers in his hair, of his breath on your cheek and the warmth of his body. "It's alright just to act once a while."
You had to smile a bit because he'd learnt that from Mav, but you didn't feel the need to remind him. Maybe he was right. Your overthinking had rarely ever helped you. But, well, it was quite hard to get rid of an old habit, wasn't it? And were you brave enough to leave it behind just this once?
With that smile of his... Maybe.
"Okay", you said. "If you say so. Then kiss me."
Bradley's eyes widened for just a millisecond before his lips twitched into a grin and he leaned forward - leaned in, closer to you, and your breath caught in your throat and your hand stilled in his hair and his thumb on your jaw settled to keep you in place. And then his lips met yours and the entire world came to a halt.
This was perfect. He was perfect. He'd always been, but his kisses... Oh god, his kisses. What had you been missing out on? You could've had this forever. He was working magic on you, you were sure, because no one should be allowed to kiss this good, to make you feel this weak in your knees even though you were lying down, to make you tense up and relax at the same time. It was truly like time had stopped, for just a few minutes - neither of you dared to move, too engrossed in the moment, too enamoured with each other.
It turned into slow-motion at some point. You didn't know just when. It melted into golden honey, thick and heavy and heady. You could really feel yourself heat up now, feel the warmth of him seeping into you, of your own cheeks flaring red. You could feel every particle of your body react to him as he cupped your jaw and pulled you closer, as you pulled your hand from his hair to move up and down his arm, to lightly press your nails into his skin.
Maybe it was that, your nails raking along his biceps, that flicked some switch in Bradley, but you didn't know for sure and you didn't care as his tongue ran along your bottom lip, asking for consent, asking if- and your lips parted without hesitance, with a soft, low sigh, with your nails digging into his arm because that seemed to have had a wonderful reaction the first time. He pulled you closer, closer, closer, pulled his hand from your cheek and grabbed your waist instead to pull you even closer, closer, closer there too.
You trailed your fingers down his arm as well, abandoning your scratching in favor of softly stroking, giving yourself time because oh, you had all the damn time in the world with him, to reach the back of his hand, to wrap your fingers around it (your pinky touched his pinky and you had to smile into the kiss, despite how hot and bothered you were getting) and slid your other hand back up into his hair to tug on his roots. Then, just because you could and just because you wanted to, you pushed his hand from your waist over your hips and down to the top of your thigh, right where your nightdress ended. You could feel Bradley's fingers flexing, gripping just a little tighter now that he had naked skin under his fingertips. That was all the confirmation you needed to bring his hand up again, to slide it softly, carefully, slowly over your underwear, your nightdress bunching up above his arm, until he was holding right onto your waist again - onto the naked skin of your waist, just because he could and just because you wanted him to.
That was when he pulled back, his forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes still closed, his fingers still tight on your waist.
"Fuck", he muttered, breathless and panting. "We should probably stop before this goes too far."
"There's a too far?", you asked, just as breathless and just as panting.
"With you?" He opened his eyes to look right at you, his thumb brushing over your skin again. "Of course not. But this is a hotel room and we're on borrowed time and most importantly, we just had our first kiss. I'd like to take you out on an actual date first."
Your heart stopped beating for a second. Then it started hammering. Blood rushed to your ears and you heard a frantic ringing and you had to close your eyes and bite down on your lip and then open your eyes again just to make sure that this was, in fact, all still reality, and that it was indeed happening, unfolding as it did. That Bradley was here with you, that he'd touched and kissed you, that he wanted to take you out on a date.
"I'd like that", you whispered finally. "I'd really like that."
1K notes · View notes
kakujis · 7 months
Text
looking glass;
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: suguru's words are always so sweet, but his actions are not.
warnings: afab!fem reader, dacryphilia, subby reader, implied multiple rounds, pet names, choking, a teensy bit of manhandling, suguru is a lil mean. not proofread since i wrote this in like 2 hours lol
ft+ wc: geto suguru, around 700.
network: @enchantedforest-network!
an: i woke up today, then immediately took a nap, and then had my 4th dream about him within the past cpl of weeks and figured i'd finally just write for him T_T. be kind to me pls it's my first time writing for him! honestly this was self indulgent and i apparently can't stop writing mean charas. anywho, i hope u enjoy :>.
Tumblr media
geto suguru has always loved seeing you cream around his cock, from the way your mouth hangs open to the twitching of your body. but the first time he pushed you a little further off the edge, where pinpricks of tears fell from your eyes, he became obsessed. but geto is always “nice”, coaxing you into another orgasm with his sweet words that drip honey into your veins. 
“suguru..” you sniffle, pawing against him, “no more.” you’re weaker than him though, your pushes against him not doing much. 
“hm?” he hums, tilting his head before swiping away at a tear trailing down your cheek. he gives you an easy-going smile that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. “we’re gonna keep going, okay? you can do it, baby.” 
you’re propped up on your elbows, legs looped around his waist as he stares down at you. maybe it’s the fogginess in your brain, but you always submit to him easily. or maybe, it’s the fact that you can’t escape anyway, pinned down to the bed underneath you. 
you nod and he leans in, grabbing the back of your head to bring you in for a kiss. his lips are soft, just like his voice, smooth and easy. geto is sweet, he’s nice, he’s kind. but the hand that shifts from your hair, fingers trailing across your jawline before settling around your neck is not. 
you whimper and gasp when he squeezes, mouth falling open just enough for him to slip his tongue in. you struggle to keep your balance, falling back onto the bed but he follows you, tongue still intertwined with yours. he also readjusts, cock deep inside your pussy. 
he pulls away only to litter wet kisses onto your teary face. “sugu-!” you try, some drool trailing from your lips, but he squeezes again, cutting you off as your hands fly up to pull at his. 
“shh,” he reassures, “it’s okay, you’re okay.” his hips start to move and you whimper again, your walls already squeezing around his cock. “you like that huh?” he smiles and you nod, unable to speak. 
he starts to thrust harder, heavy balls slapping against your skin and the grip you have on his wrist tightens. your swollen, wet lips hang open as you moan and gasp. suguru is big, so big that you always ask him to wait when he first slips in to give you time to adjust. but after multiple orgasms, you think he fits perfectly, slipping in and out of your pussy. 
“you’re so cute, y’know that?” he says, smiling down at you. “and so pretty when you’re crying and screaming on my cock.” you’re almost too hazy to notice the “screaming” part, but your eyes widen as you look up at him. he smiles brighter, before he angles himself, slamming in and making sure to go as deep as possible. you squeal and thrash, toes curling.“yep! just like that.” 
you claw at his arm, the one that’s currently trapping your throat. but he’s strong, not even budging as your nails dig into him. it’s too fucking much, you think, as your eyes roll back. but suguru simply brings one of your knees further up, spreading you even more and your thighs tremble. 
“go on,” he coos, eyes narrow, “cum for me.” he squeezes one last time before you’re coming undone, flailing and seeing white. your pussy twitches around him as he fucks you through it, before he slowly comes to stop. 
he releases the grip on your neck, his hand once again soft as it trails up to caress your cheek. you hiccup and pant, as you come down from your high. 
“good girl,” he praises, pulling out, and you press your cheek further into his hand, opting to suckle on his thumb. he chuckles, “was that so bad?” 
you shake your head, the tears finally starting to stop. you don’t realize that he still hasn’t cum yet and close your eyes anyway, thinking it’s over. it’s not till he removes his thumb and flips you over onto your belly that you realize it’s not. 
“that’s good,” he says as he pulls your hips up, flush with his, slipping inside. you sob out, trying to crawl away, but he places a palm between your shoulders, locking you in. “cause we’re not finished yet.”
1K notes · View notes
astroboots · 10 months
Text
Every You Every Me #Issue 5
Tumblr media
COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader
Summary: You finally catch Spiderman in your bed and try to get answers to the many many questions you have.
Word count: 3,200 words.
Content: Awkward one bed shenanigans, teensy bits of angst
Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist
[Previous] [Next]
Tumblr media
You wake to the glare of the morning sun spilling through the curtains.
Your first waking thought is that it. is. so. bright. God, why is it so fucking bright.
Your second thought is that you need to pee. 
There is no third. Because your bladder is killing you. 
There's just one not-so-small problem, and he's lying on top of you, in the same position he fell asleep in last night. Wrapped all around you, clinging on like you're a soft comfort blankie he refused to be weaned off of.
It's not... unpleasant, exactly (your need to pee aside).
For such a large man, being trapped underneath him is more comfortable than you might have expected. He's heavy, sure, but the pressure feels more like a weighted blanket with the way he's draped across your body, arms curled around your waist and back. 
It helps that the sheer size disparity means that you're too small of a surface area for his whole body to cover and most of his weight rests on the mattress. 
Rather than suffocating, it’s almost… cozy.
It must be really early in the morning, because your room is nearly silent. You can’t hear the familiar New York traffic. The noise of honking cars, angry shouting people and screaming cop sirens outside of your window. Instead, in the quiet of the morning the only noise you hear is the sound of his soft snoring against your collarbone.
Before today, you never knew superheroes snore. It’s not the sort of mundane thing you ever think about superheroes doing.
You stare up at him for a minute, soft skin and long lashes fluttering across his cheeks, marveling that he looks so... human. 
Which of course he does. The observation shouldn’t really surprise you. For all the fantastical mythos that surrounds them, at the end of the day, most superheroes are human beings. 
…Unless you're talking about Thor, of course, who’s an actual Viking God. And maybe not Hulk either, because... well... look at him. He’s all green and roided out, you don’t know what he is but he’s certainly not human. And then there’s– Okay, you know what, now that you actually think about it, a lot of superheroes are not human at all.
Maybe that’s why last night took you so much by surprise. You always thought they were invincible. You’d never guess that a slice of coffee cake could bring one down, collapsing as easily like a poorly built house of cards.  
Even more surprised when he’d held onto you, pleading for you to stay. 
When you see the Avengers plastered on the front cover of every newspaper, they look larger than life. When you see Captain America and his star-spangled shield sparkling in the centerfold of the Times, you never really stop to consider, what’s he like when the mask comes off.
In some abstract way, you were aware that superheroes have lives beyond just superheroing. You just never thought about the fact that a lot of them probably have families at home that they worry about. Friends that they care for. People they miss. 
Nena
He'd said.
The person he mistook you for last night.
Something squeezes uncomfortably tight in your chest just remembering the tone in his voice when he said it.
Something is going on here. It's clear to you now even more so than before, that this man doesn’t just keep saving you out of sheer coincidence. There’s a mystery here that’s all tied together in an interconnected web somehow and you're pretty sure it has to do with this Nena person. She is most likely the answer to why your whole life has been upended in the last few months. 
You need to find out what is going on and now that he's physically here, right in front of you, as soon as he wakes you can finally ask him and get some answers that are long overdue. 
You just really need to fucking pee first.
Gingerly, you wedge an arm between your chest and his. You attempt to slowly and carefully pry open the stranglehold he has on you, hoping to scoot up and out of his arms.
He grunts in reply, still soundly asleep, and his arms tighten their hold on you, pulling you back into him as he burrows his face into your chest.
"Five more minutes," he grumbles, voice raspy with sleep. "Nena, it's too early."
There it is again, that nickname. You freeze, holding as still as possible, feeling your heart skip a beat at the tone of his voice as he said it. It’s said with so much fondness and hints at so much familiarity each time he has said it. 
You don't know what you're meant to do in this situation. Except you clearly can’t let him go on thinking you’re… whoever it is that he thinks you are for much longer.
There are the muddy moral implications of allowing this to go on any further after all, considering that the man probably has no idea where he is after you practically roofied him with baked goods.
You also still really need to go pee already.
He shifts against you, one thick, heavy thigh wrapping over your leg and pulling you in further before coming to a rest directly on top of your bladder. Okay, fuck, you take back what you said about this not being unpleasant. This is really, really unpleasant. 
You need him to get up now. 
Forcing your hand free, you reach up to give him a polite tap on the shoulder. When polite doesn’t get you any results, you do it harder, three successive taps, and he still doesn’t even stir. You keep tapping, progressively harder until you’re punching him hard enough that any normal person would be yelping in pain and begging you to stop. 
He groans once, arms shifting to secure his hold on you. For a moment you think he’s going to ask for another ‘five minutes,’ but then the whole of his body goes stiff, every muscle suddenly rigid with tension. A suspended silence permeates the space, and you find yourself holding your breath unsure of what to do next. The silence is broken by the sound of your bedsheets shifting, and you feel the firm hold around your waist ease off, his arms and legs retreating from your body. 
He's up and out of bed in one smooth move, almost faster than you can follow. By the time you struggle upright in bed (much less gracefully) he's already standing a few feet away, hands fisted at his sides. 
“Sorry,” he says, looking at you and then off to the side like he can’t quite bring himself to meet your eyes, a bright flush burning high on his cheeks, “I… uh… I thought you were someone else."
His hulking frame towers over your bed, but he’s acting like a sulky, embarrassed little boy. The contrast should be absurd, but instead you find it… strangely endearing. Apparently even a high and mighty superhero can be brought low by an awkward situation, just like everyone else.
"It's okay. You didn't... um... do anything weird or anything," you say, trying to reassure him, but you can't concentrate on your words when your bladder is screaming bloody murder, "Look, can you give me a second? Just– shit. Just stay right there, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere!" you admonish him, throwing the words over your shoulder as you rush past him and into the bathroom
You nearly break your tailbone with how fast you sit down on the toilet seat, hoping to get your business done as quickly as possible and praying the whole 15 seconds that you’re gone that he won’t make a break for it and still be there when you get back. 
Thankfully, when you nearly tear the bathroom door from its hinges, he is.
The first sight that greets you is his broad and defined back framed by the amber light pouring in from your window frame. It makes for a dramatic image. Golden and majestic, he seems to occupy half the space in your tiny apartment as he stands turned away from you, apparently taking in the view from your one and only window. 
The first thing he says to you as he opens your mouth is not, ‘good morning.’ There's no ‘sorry for almost drunkenly smothering you to death last night,’ ‘how did you sleep with my hulk sized body on top of you’ or even a 'thanks for letting me sleep on your bed.' 
No. Rude, knock off, maybe-vampire Spiderman, who still hasn't told you his name, slowly turns back towards you and takes one look at your face. Then he says, "I have to go."
Which, of course that’s what he’d say and do. Of course. You’re nearly growling with frustration as you run up to him.   
"Wait!" you shout, darting around to block his path as you try to lead him back further into your apartment. "Do you want some breakfast?" 
You still don't know him very well yet, but your few interactions so far have shown you that the way to break through his grumpy defenses is through his stomach.
"I can fix you up something. I’ve got some eggs in the fridge, and I can do scrambled or fried. Maybe over-easy, though I sometimes mess up the timing.” 
You’re rambling on purpose. Speaking as fast as you can, as you continue to pull him towards your kitchen. You’re making sure he can’t get a word in edgewise, so that he doesn’t have a chance to protest before the food is in his stomach, and by then he’ll surely eat the whole thing before he starts getting sassy with you again. By then you’ll hopefully be able to sneak in one or two questions between mouthfuls. 
He shakes his head, "No, I–I have to go... I wasn't supposed to..."
Not a fan of eggs, you note. It makes sense, so far the only thing you've ever seen him eat is baked goods, probably has a sweet tooth.
"I could make you pancakes? I won't even put coffee in them, I promise," you tease gently, hoping the humor might pull a smile from him.
It doesn't. If anything, his eyes look even sadder.
He stops mid-step, and no matter how much of your weight you put in trying to herd and push him towards your kitchen, he won’t budge an inch. You’d have more success moving a bull by its horns, and considering he’s bigger built than one, that tracks. 
There’s no strain in his features, as he stays still, resistant to your efforts. "This is a mistake,” he says. “I should never have gotten involved."
He's moving again, this time away from you, stepping towards the window. Shit, he's going to make a run for it.
In the course of the last 24 hours you've managed to leap off the Chrysler building; poison the superhero standing in front of you; slept with him in the same bed; and yet somehow, through all of this, you still haven't managed to do the one thing you actually wanted: have a simple conversation with him.
"Wait, wait!" you shout out, panicky. "Can we just talk for a second? I really need to talk to you. I just want some answers.”
"I don't have any answers for you," he says. 
He's turned his back again, one hand on the window sill as he's preparing to climb onto it. If you let him leap off it now, you don’t know when your next chance will be to catch him again. 
"I'm not going to stop trying," you shout out in a last desperate attempt and that finally stops him in his tracks. 
“I’m gonna be leaving,” he says with a finality in his words. 
It doesn’t stop you though, doesn’t even discourage you. He might be stubborn, but you can give him a run for his money, because this is your life on the line.  
“Then I’ll run after you. I’ll keep chasing after you. I'll keep asking, and asking, and asking. I'm not going to stop until you give me some answers."
There’s a silence between you again. Then he straightens his posture, and turns his head just far enough that you can catch his eyes. Whatever uncertainty was there before fades away as you see the resolve in his eyes harden.
"You're never going to see me again."
There's an ugly noise. A scratch over the vinyl of a record screeching in your brain that makes you unable to comprehend his words. You have to replay them in your mind, parsing them out, before you realize what he's actually telling you.
“Wait, what do you mean never see you again!?” you step forward towards the window sill, and he visibly retreats at your advance. “As in, you're going to back to avoiding me? It’s kind of late for that, isn't it? I've seen your face... twice. We’ve slept together!"
"No," he answers brusquely, brows pulled in at a sharp angle. “I'm leaving the… area. I'm not going to be around anymore."
“But you’ll be back… right?” you ask. Some corner of your brain refuses to accept what you think he’s telling you. 
With a graceful movement, he leaps back down from the window sill, taking a step forward and leaning in until he’s looming over you, his face inches from your own. 
“No,” he repeats, emphasizing the word.
Oh… 
His words finally click. It took a few attempts for the stubborn gear in your brain to unjam, but you finally hear what he’s been trying repeatedly to tell you.
He’s leaving for good. He’s not coming back. 
You… You don’t know how you feel. Your cheeks are strangely numb. Somehow the idea that he might not be around indefinitely had never occurred to you. You’ve grown accustomed to the safe haven he’s provided. Come to rely on him and the familiar safety of his shadow lurking around every corner, the blurred blue and red rescuing you from this crazy world trying to kill you. 
A flash of cold sweat breaks out along your back. His presence is your only anchor to safety. If he’s not here… 
"But– but– if you leave…” You trail off, barely able to imagine it.
All the near-misses flash through your mind. The taco truck stampeding through the city, the subway train barrelling towards you, construction sites crashing down right above your head. So many deaths held at bay by the one man in front of you, and if he leaves… If he’s gone…
You can barely choke out the next words, your voice a strangled whisper, “...what’s going to happen to me?”
A flash of anguish breaks through his stony features before he turns away, dropping his gaze to his feet. Pained sadness bleeds into those crimson eyes, something that speaks of guilt, loss and defeat. 
"I’m sorry," he says quietly, "I can't save you. I never could. Nothing can."
And what can you say to that? You can’t force him to do more for you than he already has. He’s done a lot—much more than anyone has to, superhero or not, and you know that—and it’s selfish of you to ask more.
You swallow down the anxiety crawling up your throat and it tastes like burnt bile. 
Anyone would be lucky to have a superhero save them from certain death even once in their lifetime, and somehow you've been blessed with more times than you can count. 
In fact, you’ve been spoiled rotten, managing to escape death so many times that you've grown almost… complacent about it. Expecting him to rescue you, when really you've been living on borrowed time for months now, winning one lottery ticket after another. You've had more extra time than anyone could ever wish for.
In front of you, you see him moving again. If you let him go like this, then this is it. This is where it all ends. Without him, it’s only a matter of time before death catches up with you again—for good this time.
You shake your head, refusing the defeat. It may be selfish, greedy even, but this is your life and you can’t let it end here.
You don’t want to die. You made a promise to yourself when you fell out of the Chrysler building for the first time. 
You want to live. You want to live. You want to live. 
"Wait! Please..." You grab onto his hand, and even though you have no doubt he could break free from your desperate grip with very little effort, he stops for you.
"I don't know what's going on! Every day I walk out that door, and almost die again and again and again. I'm scared and confused, and it seems like the universe is hellbent on killing me, and you're the only clue I've got as to why. The only reason I'm still alive is because you keep saving me. I know that it’s selfish to ask you this, because you don’t owe me anything. But…” 
You pause, drawing in a deep breath, and say the words with your whole chest, “I want to live!”
He doesn’t quite flinch, but the hand at his side twitches and then he’s reaching up to you. So close, you can almost feel his knuckles grace the side of your cheek. Then he stops, a fraction of an inch from your face. 
He tilts his head to the side, like he’s listening to something you can’t hear.
Must be some other emergency your unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man needs to be on his way to. You try to push down the unexpected envy boiling in your stomach at the thought. 
Although… now that you’re listening, you can hear something too. Something like the low hum of a helicopter, growing louder all the time. 
Must be a police chopper. Traffic ‘copters aren’t allowed to fly so low.
Abruptly, the light flees your apartment. Shadow sweeps across your window and covers everything in pitched darkness. 
A blackout? But it's morning, even if the power went out, the sun should still be–
You feel it before you see it in the dark, a tight grip on your wrist pulling you. His arm slams across your waist, yanking you backwards.
The world lurches around you, receding with a deafening roar of collapsing concrete and shrieking metal. The last thing you see is the wall of your apartment disappearing in a cloud of dust and twisted metal.
Your stomach drops sickeningly. Bright light flashes across your vision in intense rainbow-colored bursts. Pink. Red. Green. Blue. You have to close your eyes as wind whips mercilessly against your cheeks, loud impossible roaring in your ears.
Is this death? Somehow you thought it would be quieter. Calm.
Still.
And then it is. Everything stops, and when you finally dare open your eyes again, there’s…
Nothing.
~ Next Issue
Tumblr media
Dedication & Credits: To my lovely collaborator @thirstworldproblemss who is always staying up brainstorming with me, listen to my insane ramblings, plotting each scene in the outlines and helping me beta and edit and even rewrite large chunks of paragraphs I'm unhappy with til the very last minute. Truly my favorite person in all of the lands. I love you!!
1K notes · View notes
eunbitchh · 5 months
Text
sit back & watch me ride
Tumblr media
*18+ MDNI*
pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader
word count: 1.3k
warnings: thigh riding, slight degradation (inner monologue), teensy tiny hint of perv mike, praise, mike cums untouched lol
title based off a lyric from this song, stream it & stan chungha:
-
the familiar sound of the front door opening and shutting and the heavy steps of mikes work shoes filled the halls, catching your attention from the bathroom where you were just finishing moisturizing your skin after having a warm bubble bath to ease the days anxieties away. you peek your head out of the bathroom door and see mikes figure in the distance hanging up his security vest along with putting his wallet and keys in their designated spot not too far from the front door. you quickly finish up moisturizing your skin and slide on your bed shirt (his shirt, specifically) and a sheer pair of lacey panties so you can go greet him after his long nigh shift he had just come home from.
“hey mike, how was work?” you ask him and lay a soft kiss to his cheek. he looked exhausted, he always did, with the dreams? nightmares rather? that plagued him at any attempt to rest. he sighs and rubs a hand down his face
“uneventful.. has abby eaten?”
you nod “yeah, i made us some lasagna so if you’re hungry i could heat some up for you to eat?”
he seemed to like that idea, so that’s what you did, sharing small talk while he ate and just generally enjoying one another’s presence.
mike always appreciated having you around, he never thought he would find someone who loved and cared about both him and his sister the way that you did, but having you around definitely brought a bit of light into their lives again. he loved you, a lot. however he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty that your sex lives weren’t all that active- both due to abby being around and the conflicting scheduling between the 2 of you resulting in you both simply be too tired to even think of sex. it was pretty rare that you’d both have the time to have sex at all, but you would both find ways around that regardless.
tonight was 1 of those nights, you were horny, and who could blame you? mike looked good. messy curls, the scruff that created a delicious prickle of pain whenever he went down on you, and those ever so tired eyes. it’s almost as if he was psychic and could hear your thoughts, or maybe you just hadn’t paid attention to what he was saying.. but he was looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement written on his face.
“there something you want?”
“yeah, you.” you answered. blunt? yes. but you were growing antsy after not having been able to have any form of stimulation from him, or even yourself the past 2 weeks. it was torture, you wanted to do nothing more than jump his bones here and now. thankfully tonight abby was having a sleepover at a friends house after the dinner you shared with her earlier so you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping your voice down.. which you knew would be an issue with how touch starved you were currently.
“yeah? how do you want me darling?” he asked you, eyes never faltering away from you, a subtle challenge glinting within them. mike adored you, truly, and despite being too tired to fuck you properly like you deserve he would still do anything it took to leave you satisfied. you eyes scanned over his face and down his body from where he sat, eyes zeroing in on his thighs.
god how you loved those thighs. they were thick and muscular, completely irresistible.
“can i ride your thigh?” you asked him, softly biting your bottom lip while you peered back at his face.
he nodded at your question and patted a hand on his thigh, inviting you to take your rightful seat.
“go on then, pretty girl.”
you didn’t need to be told twice, practically throwing yourself onto him like a total whore, which in this case you were. his whore, specifically. but you really didn’t care, you wanted him. needed him. he watched you closely while you straddled his thigh, how your mouth formed a small ‘o’ at the sensation of his rough jeans coming in contact with your panty clad pussy. he always thought you looked beautiful like this, it made him wish he was an artist so could plaster your image onto a canvas to hang in a museum. or even just take a photo of you in this position to stash away and jerk off to while he was at work..
his hands came to a resting point on your waist, holding you firmly to help you maintain balance while you got yourself comfortable on the meat of his thigh. your quiet whines began to fill the rooms emptiness while you slowly began to rock against him. usually it was him who was louder between the both of you, but something about you being more vocal really got to him, he could feel himself getting hard just from the sight of you slowly rocking your body against his thigh, making all these pretty sounds just for him. fuck, you really had him wrapped right around your finger.
“how’s it feel, pretty girl?” he asked you, voice dropping an octave lower while he watched you through hooded eyes and parted lips, you would think he was the 1 fucking himself right now with how ruined he looked, yet here you were soaking the material of your panties and his jeans because you were so needy.
“feels good.. feels so good” you moaned, resting your face into the crook of his neck, tickling the skin with your heated breath. his hands gripped your waist tighter when you began to rut against his thigh beginning to move at a more rapid pace now, moan after moan falling through your lips.
your hands gripped his shoulders as you continued to shamelessly fuck yourself on his thigh, higher pitched moans coming from you now when he flexed his it beneath you, creating the perfect added sensation to your erratically throbbing clit. he seriously couldn’t wrap his head around how fucking hot you looked using him like this. his cock lurched in its confinement while you continued to grind down on him, oozing beads of precum while he got off just to the sight of you. he was so hard that it hurt but he refused to touch himself, focussing solely on helping you cum right now.
“you gonna cum for me, darling?” he spoke lowly to you, watching you nod in response as you were too caught up in the throes of pleasure to form a coherent response.
“cum for me, cum all over my thigh.”
and you did, with a final loud moan your orgasm ripped through you. you found yourself having to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him close to your body so you wouldn’t collapse from the intensity of it all. he watched you through dark, lust, blown pupils feeling himself cum without even having been touched.
“fuck that was so hot” he whispers to you, softly rubbing your hips while you came down from your orgasm. your breathing was shaky, but you could finally speak again clearly.
“did you.. did you cum?” you ask him with a small smirk. he rubbed the back of his neck at your question, blushing a bit.
“uh.. yeah, i couldn’t help it.” he felt a little embarassed, cumming like that despite having neglected his own pleasure the entire time.
“oh mike you don’t need to be embarassed, that’s actually really hot” you reassured him, resting your head on his shoulder while you stared contently at his face.
he rolled his eyes playfully at your comment but made no argument against it, just revelling in the closeness of your bodies right now.
“anyways.. we should probably get cleaned up and get you to bed, you look exhausted” you spoke in a softer tone, tracing a soft pattern on his forearm with your finger. he nodded in response and lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom to finally get the sleep he so desperately needed, knowing fully well he would finally get a restful night with you in his arms.
461 notes · View notes
cheonstapes · 6 months
Note
PLS I NEED MORE OF MIGUEL X SPIDER-BARBIE IT'S LITERALLY SOOO GOOD
miguel o'hara stars in... 'LET'S GO BEACH' 。゚( ゚^∀^゚)゚。
Tumblr media
a/n ~ TY FOR THE REQUEST DARLING💗!!!!! i love spider barbie sm, i'm gonna make this into a series! i did write smut for this so pls let me know if you want it! ╰(▔∀▔)╯
previously...
summary; miguel attempts to take you on a beach date - alone. apparently, you didn't get the memo.
wc; 900+
pairings; miguel o'hara x spiderbarbie!reader
cw; SUGGESTIVE!!, miguel gets hard, petnamesss, reader is a little shit, drowning?, miguel was a lifeguard once upon a time, teensy bit of voyeurism, naked in a public beach, fwb!, pining, miguel is just downbad man, nawt proofread - i'm kenough
Tumblr media
ok, so after the whole ‘massage’ situation - you and miguel had started this sort of friends with benefits type of thing.
he beats himself up everyday for not asking you out then, he’s happy he has you like this at least. but it’s not enough. so he devised a master plan to get to to finally go out with him. setting up an entire day at the beach with just the two of you, along with a cute romantic picnic and sundown. it was all perfect — well until they came. 
maybe he should’ve been clearer, i mean - he never told you it was a date. naturally, like the sweetheart you are, you invited the rest of your friends. ben, hobie, jess, peter — along with mayday as he couldn’t find anyone to watch her - it was quite literally the worst day of miguel’s life.
“what’re you all doing here?”
and you coincidentally forgot to tell them the person you were going to accompany was none other than the big boss, miguel. they probably wouldn’t have gone if you did, considering the way they frowned deeply when they saw him. you laughed nervously, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to come up with some sort of explanation. you were just too sweet for them to stay mad at, dismissing you with a wave of their hands — smiling as they tell you it’s ok! 
miguel still wasn’t happy though, his permanent scowl somehow even deeper as he trudged along next to you as you all found somewhere to sit. obviously, he put his towel next to yours — even helping you put up your cute little chair and umbrella. he even took the liberty to put your sunscreen on for you — he just wanted to cop a feel, don’t blame him.
it turned out to be more fun than he expected, not that he’d ever admit it — but a small smile would grace his frowning lips ever so often. you looked so happy, surrounded by all the people you love, running around in that flimsy, little bikini. yeah, you looked hot as fuck too. the heat was making him feel dizzy, but so was the sight of your beautiful body — tits barely contained by those scraps of fabric, your ass making that stupid bikini look like a thong. 
anyone could see he was turned on. his cock poking through the tightness of his trunks, his eyes constantly trained on you and you only. and when you came over to him, panting and smiling so sweetly, he was so ready to pin you down and fuck you till you couldn’t think of anything but him. “miguel! d’you know where i put that floatie thing?” he nodded, grabbing it out of his bag and handed it to you — hand lightly grazing yours. “you going for a swim now? it’s a little late, isn’t it?” 
“look, there’s basically no one in the water — it’s the perfect time to go for a swim, migs!” he tilted his head, sliming softly at you as he shrugged. “you’re not wrong, princess. you got all of that to yourself, hm?” you smiled cheekily, bending over in front of him, clasping your hands in front of you. “mm, if only i had someone to join me…” rapidly batting your lashes as he chuckles lowly, shaking his head. “yeah, you’re on your own, sweetheart — i’m fine here. why don’t you ask jess or something? ‘m sure she’d be more than happy to accompany you.”
he’s so annoying, but you can be too. “pleaseeee! you’ve just been sitting here, grumpy, all day. just come in for a few minutes and then you can go back to sulking, old man.” old man? he raised a brow, smirking slightly — he pushed down his sunglasses, leaning back on his sun lounge. “sounds nice, princess, but i’ll pass. i was a lifeguard once, someone needs to save your ass incase you drown or somethin’.”
and drown you did. 
kidding! well — sort of?
miguel’s heart was beating faster than ever. he shot up as he heard you calling out for him, your body flailing in the water. the beach was practically empty at this point. the rest of the group had gone home, leaving you and miguel to finally have the beach date you were supposed to. but he didn’t expect this. he dived into the water, pulling your body up to the surface. “you’re ok, cariño, i got you. breathe for me, just breathe.” he stroked your face, cooing softly as he tried to calm himself down too, telling himself you’re ok.
you got tired of playing around after a few minutes, springing up like nothing happened. you grinned at him, as if you didn’t almost give the poor man a heart attack. “you should be a life guard again, watching you dive in like that was really hot.” he blinked at you, mouth hanging open. he growled lowly, “you think you’re so funny, ¡ay pillín! i thought you drowned!” his face was heating up, frowning deeply as he didn’t want you to see how badly he cares about you.
“aww, ‘m sorry. i couldn’t think of anything else to get you in the water!” he sighed, smiling softly as he put a large hand on your cheek — pinching the wet flesh. “yeah, whatever. don’t pull some stupid shit like that again.” he warned. you nodded in compliance, wrapping your arms around his neck. “wellll, since you’re here now… swim with me?”
he was about to agree, albeit reluctantly, before something under the water caught his eye. there’s no way he only just realised, so caught up in saving you that he didn’t see that you were literally naked. pink fabric floated behind you, riding the waves as he smirked down at you — reaching up to pinch your exposed nipple.
“missing something, princess?”
-cariño - sweetheart
-¡ay pillín! - you little shit/naughty (sorta interchangeable)
Tumblr media
-mmmmm, what if they had.... water sex....? hmmmmmm.....
411 notes · View notes
diagonal-queen · 17 days
Note
Omg you're backkkk<3 I hope uni's going well for you!
Maybe the Hunting Dogs with a s/o who's kind of mean/petty?
Hunting Dogs with a mean S/O
Tumblr media Tumblr media
♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader
♡ synopsis: How are the Hunting Dogs with a mean and petty S/O?
♡ cw: Swearing, u r a BULLY >:((, dw it's pretty chill though, non-graphic NSFW with Jouno, teensy bit of NSFW with Tachihara, mentions of violence, crime and torture
note: ahhh hello yes i'm back! uni's pretty great actually. i love being able to tell people i go to law school lmao, it makes me feel smarter than i am. uhh but i've been swamped and a bit busy, and i'm going back home for a week so i might not be super active over the next couple weeks, i'm so sorry my babies </3 but i'll still be lurking in case you wanna chat! as always, apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x
Tumblr media
Fukuchi:
Mf you think he cares?? He hired Jouno and Tachihara because they committed crimes, and he's more than happy to keep Teruko around. Bro doesn't give a FUCK that you're mean
If you're dating Fukuchi you clearly do give a shit about the welfare of society and world peace, so your individual quirks are just that. Quirks
He will fully let you just be a dickhead sometimes, because...like, why not?
I feel like Fukuchi is obviously often a very intimidating individual who strikes fear and commands respect from everyone else. But you? You just walk all over him
In some ways for him it's probably kind of refreshing to have someone around him who doesn't idolise him at all, or look up to him as a superior. It gets exhausting, for sure. Sometimes he just wants to be humbled and that's so okay Fukuchi, you deserve it actually /mean-spirited and condescending
Don't get me wrong it's not like you're an abusive partner! You're still obviously nice to your partner and you love him, but you definitely don't go out of your way to sugarcoat things or try to avoid any necessary confrontations
And Fukuchi genuinely really respects that about you. He's pretty similar like that, though still definitely goofier than you
I mean he won't want you sitting around with an RBF when he's at formal events and whatnot, because that really wouldn't have the best impression, but he's usually very gung ho about letting you be yourself
You're lucky he loves you man...lmao
Jouno:
He loves it. Full stop.
You two are just sadist central over here. Like he'll be torturing a suspect and you're just watching. Bored. Not a care in the world
(Jouno, I don't think you're legally allowed to invite your partner to watch you do your job- much less one like this, but...eh...)
You two are always just talking shit about people to each other, and like when you're out in public on dates you're just whispering to each other and judging people T-T
Lowkey kinda gets turned on when you guys argue. He thinks it's hot when you get heated and angry. Usually it ends in rough "passionate hugging", and the pillowtalk is when you both actually resolve the issue (dumbasses)
He might even purposefully rile you up sometimes because mf is just THAT much of a horny degenerate. You guys can call him classy and gentlemanly all you want, but we all know he's secretly deranged
Like an angry, horny goblin with a knife...someone stop him
Tbh you should probably bully him a little bit every now and then. I think he needs to be taken down a peg sometimes
Hey, he's more likely to listen to you than Tecchou, isn't he? Besides, it's nothing genuinely malicious. Just couple's banter
Oh, you guys are fucking LEGENDS at the couple's banter. Though you never do it in public, because a lot of the times the things you both tell each other as jokes can come off as really cruel jabs
Nah your senses of humour are just not family-friendly (violent and malicious)
You guys have very strange ways of showing your love and affection. But, hey, it works for you and that's what's important :)
Tecchou:
Ah yes, arguably the least meanie of all of the Hunting Dogs. Yeah uh he doesn't really like you at first
Tecchou doesn't understand being mean just for the sake of it. I mean like, for Teruko, she uses it in her career, and Jouno is sadistic and weird and also uses it in his career. You're just petty because you can be
But the more time you spend together the more he realises that you're really not that bad- you're really just more of the loveable asshole type
An acquired taste, yes, but this is Tecchou we're talking about! That's his thing!
He learns to appreciate the things about you that many others would probably consider flaws. He influences you for the better definitely...
...BUT you also kinda make him worse
He will adopt your 'deal with it bitch' attitude sometimes, but it doesn't hinder his relationships or work so it's fiiiiine
(Jouno isn't a huge fan of it though...but at the same time he kind of respects you)
Tecchou probably won't admit it but he really likes to listen to you rant and bitch about people you don't like. He just likes to listen to you be angry about trivial things, he finds it equal parts endearing and entertaining
If you're mean to someone who deserves it? Well I mean...who is he to stop you?
At the end of the day you're definitely emotionally self-sufficient, so that's one less part of you for him to fret over. All's well that ends well or some shit idk
Teruko (platonic):
You guys are literally the best of friends
She's the loud fiery kind of mean and you are the 'I will straight up meticulously ruin your life' kind of mean
You on some r/nuclearrevenge type shit and she fucking loves that for you
Like she's fully willing to plot and scheme with you and do whatever mean shit you suggest. You two are menaces and she should absolutely not be a military soldier
Teruko WILL smite your enemies. And by smite your enemies I mean she will actively do what she can to ruin the lives of people you don't like, with absolutely no remorse (pretty sure she actually commits crimes to do this)
She LIVES for your cruel one-liners and clever insults. Every time she hears one she absolutely hollers
Teruko enjoys it when you're mean to the other Hunting Dogs (except Fukuchi). They can handle a couple bitchy words so it's not a huge deal, but she's just extra amused by it
For the record you're not *mean* mean, you're just...humbling them (which let's be real they could use from time to time (Jouno, again, looking at you))
Nobody is surprised by your guys' friendship really
You're a dangerous pair. Please stop
Teruko kinda likes that you hold grudges so frequently because she'll never tire of hearing you shittalk the same exact people and events over and over again
She'll shittalk them too
Dia doesn't approve of this friendship
Tachihara:
You guys know that scene in B99 where Jake says that he can't decide if he's scared of Amy or turned on by her and then decides that he's both? Yea, that's Tachihara with you
He is a good person at heart, and outside of his mafia gangster persona he's really not that mean, and as such he does not encourage mean behaviour. But like, when you do it? Mm...
Bro is WHIPPED
Lowkey he probably gets some of his mafia persona ideas from you 💀
His mafia coworkers have no questions about how you two get along, and they generally like you. The other Hunting Dogs have a few more questions
Tachihara isn't some shy, quiet introvert, but he is generally pretty chill and a nice person. They like to playfully tease him about how different the two of you are (though if it gets too far he knows he can count on you to rip them a new one with no issue)
Dw they still like you though! Especially Teruko
He has absolutely no problems with you for being cold and blunt. It's nothing he himself can't handle, and in some ways it actually makes talking to you easier
Again, I'll stress that you're not mean to him, you're just not the most lovey-dovey person out there. But you DO put effort in and that's what Tachihara cares about, even if it isn't in a stereotypical way
If anything else, you're certainly loyal!
Tachihara loves you for all of your different eccentricities, and he's also kinda turned on by them. Win-win? Win-win.
Tumblr media
taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen
177 notes · View notes
aledethanlast · 10 months
Text
I want to clarify something about my Lawyer!Andrew post:
Andrew is not doing this to impress people. In fact he actively doesn't want to impress people. He is done being a superman who holds everyone's lives in his hands. It's not good for his mental health when he's doing it and it's not good for anyone when that he fails, because the law is too big and some of these fuckers are just legitimately dumber and more guilty than his literal murderous mafia husband.
Anyways. Andrew wakes up in the morning, goes to his closet and shoves aside the 15k dollar Armani suits so he can put on the two piece he got at Macy's (then tailored to fit, cause he still has standards), and a matching tie.
He goes to the office. Brad asks him if he heard about the latest draft picks. Andrew stares him down until Brad goes to Andrew's desk and drops a quarter in the "Asking Andrew about Exy" jar. Andrew's coworkers seem to think that he's gonna buy the office a Foosball table with the jar money. They are wrong. It is for a new cat tower. Also, no Andrew hasn't seen it, but he got the rundown from Neil and Kevin, so he knows enough to tell Brad not to bother with a season pass for the Sealions this year.
He has two cases to deal with today. The first is a vehicular manslaughter charge. The client is pleading self defense, and that the victim was a stalker. Andrew likes her because, despite bursting into tears every time they have a trial prep session, she actually listens to instructions and knows when to shut the fuck up. He's confident.
The second is grand larceny. The guy is so super incredibly guilty but Brad gave him this case because he knows Andrew loves police misconduct cases and this one is just so full of protocol breaches that Andrew only had to show Neil the file for him to burst out laughing.
Janet says he has a call waiting. Janet is the highest paid paralegal in the county, because she also filters his celebrity mail. Technically Neil's pr firm still represents him, but Janet knows to turn down the DA's gala invitations without needing to argue with him.
He picks up the phone. It's the DA. The man invites him to the police gala because he knows Andrew ignored the emails. Andrew assumes the man was banking on Andrew giving a polite refusal he can wheedle or harangue into compliance. The man is new to the job, so Andrew will forgive this embarrassing miscalculation.
They spend the next hour discussing court dates for a certain case. Andrew's client for that one is disabled and only has partial aid, and he won't let them set court dates that they know she won't be able to attend. The DA, despite his embarrassing naivate, seems to be on the same page in this regard, so hopefully this will go well when they bring the matter to the judge.
In the span of this phone call, two of Brad's clients come into the office, and within five minutes of walking in are made to contribute to the jar. They don't get their questions answered, because he's on the phone, and they're not Brad.
He has court tomorrow. Court is annoying, because it's a room full of strangers who hear his name and forget why he's there, and he's not allowed to bring the jar. Court is a chore, because he has to walk people through their own idiocy, and then occasionally convince the room of just how stupid or brilliant it actually was.
Court is also, maybe, just a teensy bit fun, because whatever the stereotype of a lawyer is, Andrew really isn't it, and that makes people take him a lot less seriously until he starts quoting their words back to them faster than the stenographer.
(Janet also filters job offers. They tend to crop up every few months.)
(It used to be more fun, back in the early days when Neil would sit in sometimes, until he remembered just how horrifically boring the whole thing is. But that's fine. Andrew is happy having his own thing.)
But really, court is easy. It's a place where your word has weight, where promises are binding, and when everything is going to shit, nobody looks at Andrew like he's the freak for keeping his head.
775 notes · View notes
manias-wordcount · 6 months
Text
Wedding Night (Ganondorf)
Kinktober 2023 Day Twenty-One: Size Difference
𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?
Tumblr media
Your mother said that the night of your wedding might be scary. But she also said that if your husband was kind to you- if he was good to you, you would have nothing to worry about. You didn’t believe those words that she said to you when it was first announced that you were to be married into the Dragmire Family. But now that you’re here with your newly anointed husband right in front of you?
You don’t think the words could have rang any more true for another man.
Right now, you’re on your back. Your wedding attire was carefully discarded by your husband’s large hands all so gently, that you would have thought that the man was handling glass and diamonds and other precious jewels. By the time you were completely bare of everything, the nervousness must have been showing on your face. Because he was so quiet, so soft when he helped you lay down on the bed of consummation. So sweet as he helped you part your legs so, so slowly for him. 
And so kind as he took one finger and pressed it to your lower lips, watching carefully as the most private part of your body welcomes in a stranger so easily.
Oh, how you gasped, and oh, how you moaned at the intrusion. You’re no stranger to your own body. You have touched and toyed and played with yourself before. But his fingers? They were so much larger. They were so much thicker. Somehow they managed to accomplish the same feat that not even three or four of your fingers could accomplish so easily- filling you up so easily. So smoothly. So- so perfectly. It almost set you running- racing out of the bed. But a large, firm hand being placed on your stomach stopped you. It keeps you in your place with just enough weight for the message to get to you loud and clear.
So you stay. You don’t run. You don’t cry. You stay. And maybe, just maybe…
…you open your legs just a teensy bit wider at the sight of the small, encouraging smile the King of Gerudo flashes at you for listening to him so readily.
“I forget just how small you are compared to me.” Ganondorf murmurs before looking back down at your body, eyebrows knitting together as a look of deep concentration spreads across his face. You could only whine in response as you felt the finger move further and further in. A loud, pitiful sound that makes your skin turn warm and your blood running hot beneath your skin. Yet the man in front of you- your husband seems to only relish in the sounds you make. Because they’re all made because of him. Because they’re all for him. Your dear, dear husband. Your dear, dear Ganondorf. “I’ve been at this for so long, and yet, you’re still so tight for me. I wonder why that is, my dear. Hmm?”
He with a lifted brow at a quick glance at your blissful expression, he throws the question in your direction. But you don’t answer. You can’t answer. It’s far too embarrassing for you to use your voice right now. Or is it that’s impossible to use your voice right now? You’re not quite sure, but this has you feeling all sortings of things that make it hard to think about anything except for what’s doing to you. And just how good he makes you feel.
The way he stands above you at the end of the bed makes him feel even taller- even bigger than before. Your eyelids flutter every now and then as you fight the urge to just lay there with your eyes closed and ride the singular finger buried inside you until you reach that peak you’re both searching for. It’s hard though. It’s hard fighting that feeling. Especially now that he’s listening to all the dumb little noises that pass through your parted lips. And the chuckle he lets out as he leans into you a little bit more- it makes you feel so, so very small in comparison. So, so very small. 
“You're taking my finger very well, little one.” He compliments you, and you can’t help but coo at the words he says to you. “Ah, what a noisy little thing you are.”
He lets out another laugh at your lewd reactions and expressions to all that he’s giving you, and you can’t help but feel a wave of shame try to wash over you once more. But it’s quickly replaced by the tanned finger buried in your insides pulling back out and pumping itself in again at a pace that’s steadily starting to gain speed and intensity. It’s never too fast for you. It’s never too hard either. But it’s starting to curl and move like it knows what it’s doing. It’s starting to press and prod at places that make you gasp and whimper and moan clamp down on the offending appendage. But more than anything? It’s making you feel good. It’s making you feel warm and pleasured and a little bit dizzy. 
But your mother said that if your husband was good to you- if your husband was kind to you- that he would make your world go soft and your mind grow fuzzy before he even enters you. Though she never said that he could make you feel like a cloud floating among the stars with just one finger and the beautiful purr of his gentle voice. She never said that at all.
“You’re so perfect for me. So receptive. So sweet.”
Ganondorf continues on with his praises. Voice warm as it hits you low, low, low in your body where it matters the most. You whine again at it all, unable to hold it in as the feeling of being called perfect while he takes such good care of you and your body. Every single thing he says- every little word he speaks to you- only manages to make you slip further and further into this headspace. It makes it harder and harder to focus on multiple things- anything at once. So much so that you’re starting to forget your own name and can only remember his. So much so that all you can see when you close your eyes is his olive-colored skin and kind, amber eyes as he touches you in places where no one else has touched you before. So much so that you don’t even know that you’re jerking and shifting and moving your hips in a way that is very unlike the blushing bride you’re supposed to be.
“Ah, But I do wonder…”
Or that the big, and heavy thing now pressing up against your inner thigh…
“If I’ll even be able to fit inside my wife’s precious little pussy without splitting her into two.”
…is supposed to be inside of you before the night is done and over with. 
396 notes · View notes
inn-oceanid · 2 years
Note
hellooo!! ☆(ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ* is it okay if i request 5WIRL (seperate) x fem reader headcanons where they get a glimpse up her skirt while she's fighting enemies with them? if you take this request, tysm!! <3333
A teensy bit of glimpse
Ft. 5WIRL.
Contains; NSFW read at your own risk. Suggestive. Not proofread. Unestablished relationship.
Tumblr media
In the middle of fighting monsters that bothered your trials with him, you decided to fight them off rather than running away. With your swift movements, and with the wind blowing, it cause your skirt to fly up without you noticing it yourself. What do they do?
AETHER
Who gets a little caught off guard, and stops fighting for a while because of what he saw. Your underwear. This caused him to get hit by an hillichurl, but luckily it didn't took much damage, and that you were there to fend it off for him.
"Are you hurt?" You asked with a fully concerned face, His red face made you very worried. He replies that it was just a small damage, and there's no need for you to worry that much.
But what was really damaged in him was his brain. A sight to be hold? More like a sight to be held or touched. He suddenly has a growing urge to grab your ass or thighs, but controlled himself not to. Keep it for tonight, he told himself.
Kept on giving small glances at your skirt, hoping he'd get another chance to see what he saw earlier. "Let's go home." He says, but you will never know what's happening inside his mind. Like fucking you in your skirt when you go back.
HEIZOU
This man is a pervert.
But of course, when it's just the two of you. He'll finish throwing punches at the samurais first before letting his lewdness kick in. What do you say, safety first.
Who would've thought he'll be blessed this way? By you? He'll thank the archons for real.
"I might've caught a small glimpse of heaven." He smirks at you when you finally finish clearing up your side of enemies and that smirk he had confused you.
He kept on giving hints but you still wouldn't get what he was trying to point out, so he gave up and kept it to himself as his little secret for today.
"you never fail to seduce me with what you're wearing." He holds your shoulders while bitting his lower lip. Ask him about what he means, he'll gesture downwards using his eyeballs.
"let's go back, the fun awaits. Let's continue our investigation tomorrow. If you're able to walk, that is." He'd love to see how you open your legs wide open for him while your in that skirt of yours.
KAZUHA
Kazuha will be humble still.
"Dove, why don't you wear shorts under your skirt from now on?" He'll tell in a way he is certain you'll catch up quickly. And you did, which made you feel embarrassed to face him, he chuckled at you for that.
"Now, now. No need to be all shy. It's just me. Actually, it made me hope for this day to end faster. Why don't we finish your commissions quickly, so that we can head home now?"
On your way to your next commission, you noticed that he got slightly touchy, and kept a hand in your hip.
Maybe he'll fuck while you're still in your panties. He might get too excited to even bother slipping them away from your legs. He's quiet, you'll never know what he might do.
VENTI
The sight if it made him all giggling to himself for real. It made you doubt if he was in a good state, or secretly drunk.
"Brace yourself." "Let's play!" He forgot to say those lines, because of what he saw. He only had this smug smirk plastered on his face while the two fought monsters.
"Venti-, are you sure you're okay? You're acting weird." The fact that you didn't notice that your skirt was lifted up by the wind got him giggling more, and made you more concerned.
"I'm just having fun today. Are we going back now? I kind of have something important to do, with you."
"With me?" You asked. "With you." He repeated.
On your way back, he kept on blowing wind on your skirt, low-key teasing himself. To be honest, he can fuck you right now behind a tree somewhere. He just needs to see how your panties fall lose on your thighs as he pounds on you.
(idk if venti can control the wind but it gave me an idea because yk, he's the anemo archon. Bare with me. 🧑‍🦯)
XIAO
When he did that plunge thing (when he uses his burst yk?) to kill the hillichurls, the strong impact of his plunging on the ground made your skirt float. Before he could stand properly, he caught a glimpse of your panties and ass.
The pain of his karmic debt went gone, or rather felt numb because of your sight. (+ Points to you ig.)
Now he wants to grab the flesh if your soft ass until you groan out his name.
Carries you bridal style so that he can feel your skin on his forearm, on your way back to Wangshu Inn.
"We'll go back to the Inn, where else?" His reply to you when you ask him where you're heading. He said, he'll do your commissions later when you two finish. Finish what? He won't tell you.
Just get ready to get railed by him, at the rooftop at night. He won't leave any clothes on your lower body.
7K notes · View notes