#yeah this is seriously all that happens in leverage

[berrychocolatey]

can you please write a smut with Miguel and reader but lyla ends up interrupting

i love your writing 💋 tyy

Caught

🕸️Summary: Lyla is a cockblocker.

🕸️Warnings: P in V, dirty talk, etc.

🕸️a/n: Thanks for the request! I had to push through and write because I've been procrastinating so much 😭. I also just got a little summer job so I crash and watch black mirror as soon as I get home lmao. But this is a good request, thank you :)

Miguel groaned as he bottomed out into your soft, wet cunt. You groaned, his pace becoming entirely too agonizing for your liking. 

“Mphhh…please baby, go faster” you moaned, tugging on his hair. Sex with Miguel was alway unpredictable for you. You would like to say that he fucked rough all the time, but then there were also a lot of times like these where he would take his sweet time with you. Of course you didn't mind this, you relished the way his cock felt slowly gliding against your walls, and the way his head was in the crook of your neck, groaning and whimpering at the feeling of you. But you had come back from a rough day at your job, your coworkers seemed to piss you off with every breath they took, so the last thing you wanted was slow sex. 

Lifted Miguels head from between your breasts, looking him in the eye and locking lips before whispering a soft plead again, hoping this would be his last que before finally fucking you the way you wanted him to.

He kissed your cheek, nodding in agreement before pushing himself up so he had a hold of your thighs. 

“You want me to fuck you? Hm?” He groaned at the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock, pushing your thighs up to your chest. Miguel's pace quickened, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. This was exactly what you wanted. Your mouth dropped open in an “o” shape, his dick making you fucking speechless. Your eyes started to flutter shut until you felt a light tap on your cheek. 

“Nuh uh,” he panted, “You wanted me to fuck you?” he asked. You hastily nodded your head. “Then fucking look at me when i do it.” He wrapped his big hand around your neck, pulling it up towards him and applying the slightest amount of pressure. 

“Oh fuck, yes!! M Gonna cum Miguel , please!” His pace became relentless. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass mixed with the squelching sounds your cunt was making drove you crazy. You didn't know if you could last any longer. You felt your stomach start to coil, grabbing onto Miguel's biceps for leverage. 

“Yeah?” he moaned. “Right here hermosa?’’ 

“Y-yes!”

He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip, “Fuckin cum for me baby, want you to squeeze me so fu-”

The both of you were cut off by the bright light that came from your night stand. Miguel quickly took his hand off of your throat, “no. no this can't be happening.” he groaned. 

“What? What's wrong?” You were still catching your breath and clenching around his cock. 

You were about to ask him again when a miniature human holograph appeared in front of the two of you. 

You yelped, quickly pushing Miguel away from you and pulling the sheets over you. “What the hell Lyla?? Are you serious?” 

Lyla looked at the two of your sheet covered bodies, “Oh gosh! Am I interrupting you two?” she asked

Miguel ran a hand through his hair, “What does it look like, Lyla? I thought I explicitly told you no work calls on Sunday nights!” 

“No, you didn't. I actually told you to turn off your watch if you can't take any work calls and then you mumbled something about Sundays that was completely irrelevant.” Lyla crossed her arms. 

You threw your head back groaning. Of course he forgot to turn his damn watch off. “Seriously, Miggy?” You shook your head, “He's so sorry Lyla, he’ll turn it off next time. Isn't that right Miguel?” You nudged his arm.

“Yeah, I will okay? You can go now Lyla.”

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, scoffing at his forgetfulness. “Okay well, I’ll leave you guys to it!” And she was gone in a blink. 

Miguel flopped down on the bed next to you, shaking his head in disbelief. He turned on his side to face you before planting kisses on your face, “Lo siento, mami. You wanna keep going?” he asked. You scoffed, looking him in the eyes. He couldn't be serious. 

“Miguel,” you sighed, “Having Lyla just pop up right before I was about to come makes me wanna rip my brains out.” You pulled the cover over your head, letting out a loud groan. “Lets just go to bed, Miggy” 

Expecting Miguel to comply, you faced away from him getting ready to shut your eyes when you felt his chest shaking. Was he laughing? You quickly sat up and looked down at him, he had his hands covering his face, his broad chest moving and you could see the smile from behind his hands. 

“Are you seriously laughing right now?!” You grabbed your pillow and chucked it at him. He burst out laughing, his eyes starting to water as he rested a hand on his abdomen. His fangs were showing now, and as pissed off as you were, your body could help but catch the contagious effect that his radiant smile had. You chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Baby i'm serious, I’m not getting turned on after basically flashing Lyla!” 

His amusement slowly died down, he wiped the corner of his eyes before apologizing and reaching to turn off the bedside lamp. He grabbed you by the waist and held you close, inhaling your sweet and comforting scent. 

You closed your eyes, getting lost in the warmth of his arms, but not before tilting your head back to face him, “And you better have turned off your watch Miggy”.

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #smut #spiderverse #berrychocolatey #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader smut #cockblock #i love miguel #creaming #i need him #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[zepskies]

Sharing Is Caring (II)

Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader 

Summary: Navigating a new relationship means learning how to share a bed with Dean. [3-part series with Sam, Dean, and Castiel.]

Word Count: 900 Warnings: Fluff!~

Part 2: Dean

You expelled a tired sigh as you pulled back the covers and got into bed—Dean’s bed. It was new, and still a little strange to sleep in his room more consistently than your own in the bunker. 

But he’d cleared a drawer in the bathroom and a nightstand for some of your things. The thought made you smile, along with Dean himself as he stepped out of the bathroom freshly showered and shaved. He was dressed in a simple shirt and sleep pants, bare-footed. 

You liked that you got to see him this way: out of his hunter layers, softer, and comfortable with you. 

He approached the bed and tsked at you, crossing his arms. You raised a brow at him.

“What?” 

“First of all, you’re on my side,” Dean said.

He waggled a finger at you, gesturing to move over. You gave him a flat look.

“I cleared the nightstand on the left for you,” he added. 

“I appreciate that,” you replied, “but I like it over here on the right.”

“Well, so do I. And that happens to be my side.”

Dean could be stubborn about the most random things. You two hadn’t been together long (officially, that is). And though you thought you’d known him pretty well, you were starting to learn more and more about the little things that could hotwire his brain.  

“You didn’t have a side before,” you accused. “I’ve seen you twisted up and spread-eagled in the middle of the bed like a damn starfish.”

He gave you a look of annoyance crossed with denial. 

“Yeah, well. My bed my rules, sweetheart.” Dean moved in behind you and bodily rolled you over to what he deemed as your side. You yelped and shot him an incredulous look over your shoulder.

But you fought back and grappled with him, holding onto his arms and taking most of the blankets and sheets with you as he pushed you over. 

“Hey! This is basically our bed now. I think I should get some say,” you said through rounds of giggles. A smirk crossed Dean’s face. 

But he soon grunted as a pillow smacked him in the face. “Hey!” 

You laughed and tried wriggling out of his grip. It didn’t do much good; Dean was stronger than you even on your best day, but you were more flexible.

You curled your legs around his right thigh and managed to twist him onto his back. You gained the leverage, pushing down on his shoulders from above while you straddled his waist. 

“Ha!” You stared down at him with a mischievous smirk while catching your breath. Dean looked up at you with grinning eyes, his hands molding to your hips. The little shorts you wore to bed were driving him a bit crazy, and he bunched the material there on reflex. His thumbs grazed your skin underneath and made tingles run up your spine.  

“You realize this is a hollow victory, right?” he said. You tilted your head in question.

“Hmm?”

Then his grip on your hips tightened, and with a gasp, you were tumbling to the side and being rolled again. 

Dean literally came out on top, looking down on you. His grin was fond and amused as he brushed your hair away from your face. You couldn’t resist; you pulled him down by his shirt for a kiss. 

You caught the scent of his aftershave, tasted his minty freshness. His tongue slipped between your lips as he deepened the kiss. And he braced his hands on either side of you while you slid your fingers through his short hair. 

You almost sighed in contentment…but a curious thought was nagging at the back of your mind and wouldn’t let go. 

So you released his lower lip with a soft nip, and you pulled away enough to meet his confused (and heated) eyes. 

“But seriously, why do you want the right side so bad?” you asked, raising a hand to stroke the side of his face. You actually liked the way his stubble scratched your palm. 

Dean paused. His gaze shifted in a way that told you the reason went deeper than you’d thought.  

“It’s nothin’. I just wanna be closer to the door, that’s all,” he said. 

You blinked up at him in amusement. “We’re in the bunker. You think a burglar’s gonna come bursting in or something?”

“Or something,” Dean said. He wasn’t kidding around. 

Your smile softened. Something else you’d learned about Dean: he knew you could protect yourself just fine, but that didn’t stop him from putting himself between you and danger whenever he could help it. 

“Who says chivalry’s dead,” you teased. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay.” 

I’m done, said his tone.

But you could tell he was trying to stem off his embarrassment. He was a bigger softie than he was willing to admit. 

He started to shift off you to his side of the bed, but you followed him. You tucked yourself against him and slipped your leg between both of his, shimmying around to get comfortable. Dean nearly rolled his eyes again as your antics shook the bed. But he still wrapped an arm around your waist.

You then laid your head against his chest. His heart beat at a steady pace under your cheek, and you sighed. 

“Comfortable?” he asked wryly. His hand covered yours on his chest. You nodded. 

“With you, always,” you whispered. 

You couldn’t see it, but a smile curved Dean’s lips as your words inevitably warmed him inside.

AN: So a nice soft one for Dean in this little series! Castiel is up next (last but certainly not least).

To read Part 1: Sam

To read Part 3: Castiel

TAG LIST:

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #spn #fluff #protective!dean #soft!dean #zepskies writes #zepskies

[apocalypse-shuffle]

“Birthdays” w/ STU•M & BILLY• L | GHOSTFACE(s)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You know, as I get older I understand more and more why so many adults just don’t celebrate their birthday. Like so much bad shit happens around my birthday once it comes around I’m just not…excited anymore.”

There’s a weighted breath of silence after that from the guys. Being literally on top of Billy - only one of your legs laid over Stu’s torso - you can feel the big exhale he lets out and when you look up at him the expression on his face is oddly tender.

His sure hands - resting over the dark skin of your naked hips - squeeze in something like reassurance—

—“Lame,” Stu cuts in from where he’s settled along Billy’s side.

Like being tugged by a string you and Billy simultaneously cut a look in the other’s direction. Except Billy looks like he’s seconds away from cuffing Stu in the head and you’re caught somewhere between being insulted and curious.

Forcing Billy’s free hand from where he was rearing it back, and pressing his arm back to his side, you turn to raise a brow in Stu’s direction.

“Why’s that?”

Sharply Stu sticks his tongue out at Billy before averting his attention to you, his expression softening.

Laying sideways on the bed he props his head up so he can look at you better from your slightly elevated position.

“I just think it’s a little stupid is all; defining the success of your birthday by other people’s standards and then dropping the whole idea when it doesn’t work out.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a scoff and a snort, nose scrunching cutely, and you know that if he wasn’t actually making you think right now you’d’ve leant over to press a kiss to the tip.

“Like,” Stu continues, “you let somebody else who doesn’t even know you plan your birthday. Of course it’s gonna suck.”

You find yourself nodding along and underneath you Billy finally relaxes. You can still feel the way he rolls his eyes though and know what’s coming before he’s even inhaled.

“Wow Stu, didn’t know you had it in you to rub that many brain cells together.”

This time when one of you rears back a hand to dole out a cuff it lands.

Billy recoils from you with an over exaggerated “Ow!” The laughter in his voice doesn’t dissipate though, nor does he seriously dislodge you from your allotted position.

“It was a joke! I was joking!”

You talk over his verbal flailing with an exasperated huff. “Stop being such a dick.”

Beside you two, Stu giggles, nonplussed, and cuddles in closer.

“Yeah, you dick,” he tacks on, arm wrapping around your waist to give him better leverage to press his lips to yours.

Neither of you pay attention to the way Billy snipes back at you both, but when he’s finally finished bitching neither you nor Stu reject his advances either.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

NOTES: I'm growing close to aging yet another year and am having feelings, so here.

Hope you enjoyed!

btw: This shit is short but you can still leave a comment if you want. Idk.

#stu macher #billy loomis #black!reader #black y/n #spurt: 500 words or less #ghostface #billy loomis x stu macher x black!reader #stu macher x black!reader #billy loomis x black!reader #ghostface x black!reader #slasher x black!reader #x black!reader #fluff #slasher fluff #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis x reader #slashers x black!reader #slashers x reader #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #billy loomis imagine #stu matcher imagine #slasher imagines

[terapsina]

Now that the writers and actors strike is about to begin being felt (and as we wait for those greedy billion dollar companies who are refusing to negotiate fair pay and conditions to give up) here's 10 of my favorite (all around best) fully finished older series you should definitely check out if you haven't watched.

I mean it, these are the shows with continuously great writing and a satisfying endings that manage to actually deliver on their promises.

-----

1. Leverage - (containing 5 seasons, or 77 episodes) - trailer here.

Hitter, Hacker, Grifter, Thief and Mastermind. Heists and cons. Stealing from the rich and giving to their victims. They provide... leverage.

Meant for anyone who enjoys bad guys being the best good guys, who will burn down the lives of evil CEOs and then gloat in the background. Very satisfying.

Hands down the best example of a found family trope I've ever seen on screen. Barring none.

2. Killjoys - (containing 5 seasons, or 50 episodes) - trailer here.

Space Bounty Hunters. Another case of found family trope. Bisexual space princess assassin. Quippy sentient ship. Green alien goo. Evil lesbians (but like... in a good way). The warrant is all.

More seriously though, it's a story about three killjoys and the bounties they go after. Initially. And then they have to save the entire Quad from some very terrifying... stuff.

Contains one of the best friendships I've ever seen on television.

3. Orphan Black - (containing 5 seasons, or 50 episodes) - trailer here.

Found family trope but with clones.

Low level grifter sees a woman who looks exactly like her kill herself and plans to take over her identity long enough to cash out. Except then there's two other women who also look exactly like her. And apparently they're all clones and someone's killing them.

Enter a global conspiracy. Human experimentation. Lots of clone shenanigans. Some serial killings. And a few murders 💖.

4. Person of Interest - (containing 5 seasons, or 103 episodes) - trailer here.

Okay I'm beginning to see how I might have a found family trope issue.

Former CIA agent gets recruited by a reclusive billionaire computer programmer who developed a... machine that can predict acts of terror before they happen. But it also predicts 'irrelevant' acts of violence that will result in someone's death.

Unless someone interferes.

I'd really like to spoil some stuff to get you all to watch this one. But I'm going to maintain self control and just mention that early on they get a dog named Bear. Bear is a very good boy. Watch it for Bear.

Also for excellent commentary on rights of privacy, government surveillance and what does 'greater good' even mean? But mostly Bear.

5. 12 Monkeys - (containing 4 seasons, or 47 episodes) - trailer here.

The very best time travel show out there. What starts out as a confusing mess of causality basically exploding, by the end of the series all makes complete and total sense.

(when that final timey-whimey loop slid into place and revealed the entire pattern it was like a choir of angels started singing in the back of my head. It was freaking glorious).

Anyway, a man from a post apocalyptic future travels into the past to stop a plague from decimating nearly the entire world population.

He has the name of the man who released the virus and it's supposed to be a single trip. One trip. One bullet. Simple. Done.

Except then things keep escalating, and escalating until time begins eating its own tail and it might start looking like the end of the world might be a better ending than erasing all of time and space from reality.

Because when our guys screw it up, they screw it up GOOD.

And oh yeah... found family.

6. The Good Place - (containing 4 seasons, or 53 episodes) - trailer here.

A self-proclaimed Arizona dirtbag opens her eyes and finds out that she's dead and got accepted in the Good Place. Except that as soon as she arrives the Good Place starts glitching, and she really, REALLY needs to become a better person before she can be found out and kicked out to the Bad Place.

Luckily her assigned soulmate was a professor of ethics and moral philosophy.

One of the funniest, most thoughtful and clever comedies I've ever watched. Ever. The characters are delightful and by the time the final minute rolled around I had sobbed my heart out multiple times (which, as we all know, is a sign of the very best comedies out there).

As for the question of whether or not this too contains Found Fami- Yes! Obviously, yes.

7. Avatar: the Last Airbender - (containing 3 seasons, or 61 episodes) - intro here (couldn't locate the trailer but it's basically the same thing in this case).

The four nations lived in harmony. Until the Fire Nation attacked.

It's been a hundred years since the beginning of the war when two kids from the Southern Water Tribe find a boy frozen in ice and wake him up. A boy who's able to bend all four elements... though not very well.

Enter multi-nation flying road trip (thank you Appa, we love you most of all) as they try to find teachers for the Avatar and save the world.

Includes found family (shut up), amazing fight scenes, the most heartfelt and vivid characters ever, and the best example of a redemption arc actually done well.

8. Love Between Fairy and Devil - (containing 1 season, or 36 episodes) - trailer here.

This one gutted me. I'm saying this as a compliment. But it had to be said. Completely destroyed me. I just haven't been the same.

A love story between an Orchid Fairy and the leader of the Moon Tribe that starts out with her accidentally releasing him from millennia long imprisonment and then takes you through the caleidoscope of all possible human emotions (it's a body-swap comedy through the first part, then a romcom, then a dramatic romantic tale, and finally a tragic love story).

But it's such a satisfying slow burn.

And it carries this... humanity through the whole thing that makes it so visceral.

If you're a romantic who's very tired of instalove and characters dropping all their morals because 'ooh, attractive person' then you've got to watch this. Because this story does NOT take the easy road there.

(my more extensive rec for this series can be found here)

9. Star Wars: The Clone Wars - (containing 7 seasons, or 133 episodes) - fanmade trailer here (it was better than any of the official ones).

This series did so much. Introduced Ahsoka Tano, and made us love her. Gave names and faces and souls to the Clone Troopers (okay, it's the same face but you know what I mean), to a point where their endings during Order 66 destroyed me just as much as the ending of the Jedi Order. And somehow made me both love Anakin AND be a million times more angry with him.

There are some arcs in this series that might be a bit weaker. But there were some... god, there's a reason I love Clone Wars more than any other series or trilogy in this universe. And I'm not even a little ashamed to say it.

Must watch for Disaster Lineage shenanigans; for the vod'e; AND for the Jedi (who did their best okay? They always did their best 😭💔).

(and on the subject of found family... do I even need to comment)

10. Nikita - (containing 4 seasons, or 73 episodes) - trailer here.

A rogue assassin that escaped Division - covert government agency that takes recruits out of prison, fakes their deaths and then forces them to become spies and assassins - has come back to take it down. Brick by brick if she has to. With guns and explosives too when that works better.

Contains soooo many cool fight scenes. Is full of incredible characters you'll fall in love with (and hate with) very quickly. And most of all has an incredibly complex relationship of mentorship and friendship between two women that holds both great admiration and betrayal, real care and love as well as rage and hatred, forgiveness, mutual respect and an unbreakable kind of bond that so very rarely involves even one female character on TV, let alone two.

(as usual, found family tropes up the wazzoo).

-----

In conclusion. We all know there's going to be a large space between seasons of our favorite shows now (and some shows that aren't going to survive it). Let's fill that space with some excellent TV we haven't had a chance to see yet.

And direct the blame for the wait towards the right place (i.e. the studios).

#leverage #killjoys #orphan black #person of interest #12 monkeys #the good place #avatar the last airbender #love between fairy and devil #the clone wars #star wars #clone wars #lbfad #atla #nikita #terapsina rambles #terapsina's tv rambles #tv recommendations #tv recs #tv rec #long post #sag aftra #it's possible i wrote out this whole thing just to talk myself into doing some rewatches #it seems to be working if yes #terapsina's leverage rambles #terapsina's killjoys rambles #terapsina's poi rambles #terapsina's the good place rambles #terapsina's atla rambles #terapsina's lbfad rambles

[kuni-is-daddy]

Thinking about gojo switching up from sending you chills to moaning for you to make him cum

Gojo satoru x female jujutsu sorcerer reader

1.2k words

Ft: Shower BJ

Gojo x Female reader smut

Sub gojo m!+f reader

MINORS DNI

You opened the door too your luxurious penthouse. Clothes drenched in rainwater mixed with purple and red blood of cursed spirits and your own. Walking through the living room you were greeted to the 'sleeping' form of gojo. Laid out on the couch surrounded by which looked like hundreds of sheets of paper. You took a peek at him from behind the couch, Wondering if he truly was asleep since his blindfold was still on. "Toru? baby, are you still asleep?" you said while tapping his shoulder. But the taller man didnt move. Taking a look at the papers that even made the 'ever so strong' gojo satoru fall asleep you realized it was paperwork requesting the execution of "Yuji itadori" to be delayed. 'Again with this yuji kid..Gojo really has a soft spot for him' You stepped away from him, taking off your blood drenched jujutsu uniform and only wearing a tank top and shorts. "Hmm..whats this babygirl? ya putting on a show for me already?" you looked up with an embarrassed yelp at the sudden warm grip around your waist. "So you werent asleep toru... you pervert..." he grinned at your remark. "Mmmm..nah..but if me sleeping leads to seeing your fine ass like this..maybe i should princess." he trailed and rubbed his hands on your breasts. leaving petals of kissing along your neck. "Toru~ stop..needa get cleaned up~" you put your hands against his, weakly trying to shoo his arms away while sinking into his touch. "Oh yeah? want daddy to help you get cleaned up?" he shifted your ass closer too him, now nudging against his hard on. Only for you to suddenly remember why you we're even 'dirty' in the first place. You pulled away from him, leaning down to shift through your skirt pockets with your ass fully on display. Arousing gojo, he began to pull down his blindfold. Wondering if you wanted him to take you on right then and there. "Take this stupid fucking finger you guys look for." you flashed it in his face with an irritated expression, completely shifting from the burning sensation he almost derived you in. "Hmm whats this baby?"

he sarcastically tilted his head while examining the finger. "Dont play dum toru. Its sukuna's finger." he shifted his vision over to your arm. Noticing a long patched up wound along it. "The higher ups kept talking about retrieviNG sukuna's fingers and blah blah..." gojo gave a light smile at your impression of the elders. "So....I went around the forest for a while and..Got one for you." Gojo rushed into your embrace. caging you in a hug while lightly lifting you off the ground. "THIS IS GREAT Y/N. DO YOU KNOW WITH THIS MEANS?" he yelled. "It means... I wont have to do your job?" you smirked. "Well...maybe for now- but seriously, this means we have some SERIOUS leverage for when it happens." you gave a confused expression. "When...what happens toru?" "When i kill the higher ups and start a new world within jujutsu." you chucked at his ideals. "This again toruu. Cmonn you talk about this everyday...cant we just bask in the way things are now?" he lowered you down back on the floor. "Y/n. things are different now. Yuji..Yuuta..and many more sorcerers are going against the ideals of the-" "The elders and higher ups. iF wE puT mInE And yoUR studEnts togetheR." you mocked him. "toru please..i know you care about this but can you not get yourself so worked up all the time? stress is no good for that handsome face of yours~" he sighed and sat back down asyou perked up and give him a kiss on his cheek. Watching as you walked upstairs and put your clothes in a basket.

Smutt:

You basked your hair through the warm water coming from the shower. Making a relaxed sigh as it coated your scalp. "hah.. this is what i needed. a break from everything..maki is with panda and toge. Gojo is doing..whatever he does." You coated your body in soap while humming your favorite song. Up until you heard a click of the doorknob. God. the last thing you wanted was some cursed spirit coming into the apartment because of the rumors you heard that they we're attractive to sukunas finger. so you began expecting the worse. You nervously held the washcloth in your hand. Hoping you could smack the spirit in time. A hand creeped around the curtain and you instinctly wrapped it around you while slapping at god knows what was on the other side. The being grabbed your tiny hand. You opened your eyes panicked to realize it was only gojo. "T-Toru?! what are you doing in here? I thought you were a spirit." this time you intentionally tried to slap at him again. Only for his infinity to block you mid attempt. "Well princess..you did want me to relax...Could you help me out?" You blushed at his request. Hiding your face behind the curtain while hearing the sounds of his giggles while unzipping his clothes. "F-fine..just dont try anything sneaky!"

he stepped into the warm shower with you. Watching as you rubbed the cloth around your chest. "Want help baby?" You nodded embarrassingly as he lathered the soap around your neck, slowly reaching down to your breasts. Your breathing started to become uneasy. Having a perfect view of gojo's lean and beauitiful body. How his chest practically glowed as the water drenched him. "Yeah? you like the view babygirl, this body is all for you~" he smirked. Now putting the cloth down and rubbing your boobs with his bare hands "S-satoru~ mmm stopp..." water rushed down your face, making your lips glow. "Shit..Dont think i can stop now princess. You look too good for daddy...Need to taste you." he pulled away from your breasts, closing you in against the shower walls and into a sloppy kiss. "Toru~ ah...fuck wait~" he came closer to you, biting along your neck and whispering in your ear. "Keep moaning f' me baby~ I want you so fucking bad y/n .im so hard right now...fuck.."

he guided your hand onto his cock. "Can you feel it princess? wanna take you right now baby you make me so fucking horny~" Gojo looked down on you with his glowing blue lust filled eyes. Right now he didnt care what was going on in the world. He wanted you to touch him, To make him feel good. You slowed moved your hand around his cock. Rubbing the tip as his grip tightened around your hand, hoping you wouldn't stop there. "Oh...fuck..more baby...move those sexy fingers of yours on daddys cock." You smirked over gojos desperation. Letting out loud moans within the steam of the shower as you pumped his cock. "Am I doing good for you toru?" He nodded his head vigorously while biting on his upper lip. *F-fuck yes y/n..feels so good~ Im so close...oh shit baby girl~" gojo sunk near your shoulder. Moaning in your ear and leaning against you as your pace quickened. "Ah....ah..fuck m' gonna cum. Baby...Y-Y/n." Gojo choked up on his words. "Yes toru~?" "Wanna..ah...wanna cum in your mouth baby.. please." He ruffled his hand through his hair. Pushing back as the water coated his vision. You got on your knees, watching as gojos thick cock slowly disappeared in your mouth. "SHIT~ Oh God your mouth is so fucking warm~" he grabbed onto your hair with his hand, having you bob your head back and forth while your eyes teared as he chased his high. "AH- FUCK. FUCK~ IM CUMMING- Y/N!!"

He shot ropes of his cum into your mouth as it oozed down your throat. "Hah...oh shit baby~ made me cum all down your throat~ now swallow it for daddy~" he cupped your face. Watching as you swallowed, then stuck your tongue out.

"good girl...now let me clean you up princess~"

#gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x female reader #gojo x y/n

[thirstnotes]

|Rivals To Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Seven - Cooking Class Clark|

Pairings: Clark Kent x AFABBlackPlusSizedReader

Warnings: possessive Clark, Clark Kent in love, language, dirty thoughts, typos, more smut eventually, minors DNI, morally gray Clark, Dark Bruce

If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

You needed to get it together. He wasn't there for you. He was there for her. This was a favor for a friend. You were being used to get to Lois. Which was whatever. So long as you remembered that this little thing with Kent wasn't real, you could maintain a sense of control.

Shit, dude. This was getting too heavy.

Clark eyed you when you caught up. "You okay?"

You shrugged him off and flashed him a smile. "Yeah. Of course. Just getting into character."

It came out a bit more sarcastic than you intended it to be and you could tell he picked up on it, but maybe that was a good thing. It made things a bit clearer. He didn't say anything more, but you noted the small frown, entering when he held the door.

The couples you had made friends with were scandalized when Luke showed up with another cooking partner

Almost as scandalized as they were to see you arriving with Clark’s hand on your lower back

Which was valid. You weren’t fully believing it yourself

"I'll get set up. We're kind of early, so you can mingle if you want," you explained, tying on an apron, eyes darting to Lois on the other side of the room. The strings were obnoxiously long, so you always had to double them around your waist. But before you could tie a loose knot, he used as leverage to pull you closer before you had a chance.

"Shouldn't I be helping with prep?" he purred down at you and you hated how much of a bitch your body was being. You melted like ice on a hot sidewalk.

"I mean, yeah. But I can. I mean. The ingredient list is on the fridge over there."

You watched his smirk deepen before he went to collect the items. A familiar hum reached your ears and you looked to the station across from yours.

“What in the Gordon Ramsay’s Hell Kitchen is happening up in here?” Dolores laughed discreetly as you got your pots and pans ready for the dish of the day. Clark was casually chatting with a couple of others who were also gathering items, so she and Henry, her husband, thought it was the perfect time to grill you a little.

“It’s…complicated,” you laughed back, keeping the lies as short as possible. The last thing you needed was to get caught up in some elaborate story. Besides, it wasn't entirely false since it was getting pretty complicated.

“Well to me, it looks like Luke did you wrong and skipped his happy ass up in here with Miss Thang over there.”

Your spirit swelled with appreciation for Miss D—what you affectionately called her. She was honestly the blueprint: a wealthy Black woman, retired from sex therapy and married for thirty glorious years to an absolute babe of a English professor who worshipped the ground she walked on. He was a man of few words, but you understood the classic extrovert/introvert dynamic. Both of them were fond of you, which explained why Luke was apparently getting the cold shoulder from them. Excellent.

“It’s alright. We just realized we weren’t compatible. No biggie.”

“Yeah but your new man certainly is. A biggie, I mean. Real biggie,” she smirked, handing Henry the mixing bowls. She gave you a look that made you snicker with her amorously.

True enough, your brain was racing with thoughts of him lifting you onto a dresser, skilled tongue deep enough in you to make your mouth hang open from the ecstasy. But you weren’t a fool. The attention was nice and all, but you weren’t about to waste your time thirsting after a dude that was gone over your coworker. The same coworker. Not again.

Across town, you had a hot billionaire craving another taste of you and to be honest, you were seriously considering giving him another. So you were solid.

“He’s aiight,” you lied with a smirky side-eye. She looked at you over her lenses and you laughed. “What? He is.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed clamming up when Clark came to meet you with another smooth peck on the lips. What the shit?

It might've been your imagination, but you could swear there was a spiteful smirk on his face. How in the hell did he have an attitude? You narrowed your eyes at him a bit.

“Ready to get started?” he asked, the loaded question not lost on either of you as he tied his apron on.

“Ready when you are.”

The lie detector test determined that that was a lie.

You were a bad bitch, but you were not ready at all. His kisses almost short-circuited every cell in your body.

Darn you Clark Kent

Darn you to heck

But anyway class was going fairly well, starting off a main course day with baking prepped sourdough bread bowls to hold the stew you were learning to make later that day

You were working on kneading the dough that had been settling in the fridge for days prior to this class

Clark was prepping for the stew in the meantime, skillfully chopping vegetables and chicken breasts into chunks.

You looked up casually and caught his deep blues observing you long enough to make you curious.

"What?"

His smirk widened and his eyes lowered back to his work. "Are you mad at me?"

"Should I be?" you laughed off-handedly, pushing away the list of reasons you wanted to list that you were annoyed with him about.

All practically baseless since they had something to do with this whole facade.

But in his defense, it was your own fault for agreeing to all this in the first place.

"I did kiss you without permission."

Oh right. That.

You snorted a laugh. "It was just a kiss."

Lies

Lies and slander

"That broke rule number two."

He had a point.

"Are you trying to make something of it?" you asked, turning to face him, flour-covered hand on your hip. His smirk stayed the same, but there was a bit of spice in your tone that made his eyes narrow a bit.

"Just asking."

Now you felt like an ass. You didn't mean to snap at him. But you felt a bit edgier now that you were caught up in your thoughts. Fuckin Clark.

"Look. Your girl's free," you deflected, your eyes flickering to Lois going to the pantry. His eyes lingered on you while he washed and dried his hands. You pretended not to notice. You couldn't ignore, however, when he moved to help you knead.

"I've got bigger problems if you're mad at me," he said, smooth tone over your shoulder, large hands covering yours to help you knead.

“I. Hm. You must think a whole lot of yourself,” you sputtered, tryin to maintain your sense of control. It wasn’t easy. He towered a bit above you, face hovering near yours as he used your hands to knead the long forgotten sourdough on the surface. No, your focus was on homeboy behind you. Milking the situation entirely in front of your friends and coworkers, trying his damndest to give you a coronary.

You knew this was all for show, but fuck, man

Homie was showin out

"I don't know what else to think until you tell me," he said, holding your hands ransom. His golden opportunity had passed and Lois had returned from the pantry.

Per your observation, she did wager a few glances in your direction

Possibly, scandalized at the sight of you being a "couple", considering you “bickered” and competed so much at work

You sure as hell didn’t expect to be Patrick Swayze in Ghost’d by somebody who, a month ago, you thought you couldn’t stand outside of work

But man. The grovelling.

Miss D was living, you hear me?

Living

You tried not to laugh when his nose nudged your neck tauntingly. You failed. Miserably.

"I'm not mad at you, you dweeb," you exhaled in an exasperated puff of breath as you turned to face him. He kept you caged against the surface, blocking you from any hope of escaping. "I'm...trying to give you space to do your thing."

You forced yourself to keep eye contact with him to keep from looking suspicious.

He breathed a smile.

Which you mistook for relief.

"Right. Well, at least you're not mad at me."

You swallowed when he pulled back and tapped your chin, moving to walk with Lois as she made another trip to the pantry.

You felt like a dumbass.

While he was gone, you took a walk to your car. You needed air. While you pretended to look for something in your trunk, your pocket vibrated and you pulled your phone out.

Were the flowers too much?

Bruce. You breathed a laugh.

A bit

Don't tell me you're mad at me?

Undecided

Maybe I can make it up to you in Prague?

You frowned in confusion.

Prague?

Didn't you get the card?

You paused.

I did, but I didn't open it. Mr. Wayne, are you telling me you sent me a ticket to Prague?

My face was between your thighs. I think we can go beyond honorifics. Unless that's what you're into.

You laughed out loud.

Go away. I'm busy.

Is that an order?

Yes

You rolled your eyes and closed your app. Your phone buzzed and you couldn't help but open it to look.

Bossy is a good look on you.

You bit your lip and took a deep breath, mood suddenly lifted. Slipping the phone back into your pocket, you went back inside, spotting Clark back at your station, next to a warming pot of stew. He rested against the edge of the surface, arms folded, watching you approaching.

"Where'd you disappear off to?"

You washed your hands again before kneading the dough one last time and setting it into the oven. "Just getting some air. How'd it go?"

His eyes rolled from you to Lois, who was feeding Luke something. You looked from them to him with a frown.

"Not well?"

His eyes floated to the oven where the dough was slowly rising. "Very well, actually. She informed me that she and Luke aren't actually official...thennnn, in so many words, she asked me out."

Your eyes widened at the tea he was pouring. "Get out. What did you say?!" you hissed quietly, like a hopeless gossip.

"I...told her that I was deeply in love with my girlfriend," he heaved with a weighty breath, his eyes meeting yours.

Were any of those ovens hot enough for you to throw yourself into?

(Part 8) (Part 6)

#clark kent #clark kent x black reader #clark kent x black plus size reader #clark kent x black curvy reader #dc comics #image

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 17

Welp. We are in the home stretch. I’m almost done writing the last chapter and then there will be a small epilogue. Thank you so much for sharing this ride with me on this one.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

*

Edie isn’t exactly sure when it started happening, but she began to notice little changes in her dad’s eating habits. Some times he would go for seconds if he liked it or he would keep some kind of fruit on hand to snack on.

But knowing her dad’s past also helped her notice when he would get that thousand yard stare or when he would jump at certain sounds. Knowing that he had walked through hell, not just once, but multiple times was like slotting in a piece of the puzzle you didn’t know was missing. And just watching all the other pieces that didn’t make sense before form a complete picture.

She knew that they had told her was only scratching the surface. Things they weren’t directly involved in but didn’t want to know. After she was told about their past Mr Munson gave her permission to dig into the incident surrounding the actual fucking lynch mob that was led by a psychotic basketball star.

What made her the angriest was that the asshole died in the earthquake and never had to deal with the consequences of his actions. That the town took that as liberty to just sweep it under the rug. The police chief quietly resigned two years later. No one that was involved in the witch hunt was actually punished for what they did to Mr Munson.

So she decided she was going to make a long distance phone call. A very long distance phone call.

“Miss Thing!” Lily Byers greeted cheerfully. “To what do I owe this totally awesome pleasure?”

“Cousin Itt!” Edie greeted back. “How’s it rocking, girlie?”

“You know,” Lily said, “as much as I love traveling the world, I got soo super jelly of your prom pictures. I’m trying to convince Mom to let spend the last year of high school with you.”

“Just say the word, Cousin Itt,” Edie said seriously, “I will deploy the puppy dog eyes.”

Lily laughed. “I’m not quite that desperate. Yet.”

“Duly noted,” Edie said. “Hey, I need a favor. But first how much do you know about your parents’ high school days?”

“You talking normal angst filled love triangles?” Lily ask slowly. “Or are we talking about nightmare fuel?”

“Nightmare fuel.”

Lily let out a slow breath. “I got ‘read in’ last year.” Edie could feel the air quotes from here. “I’m guessing you’re new to the ‘my parents are fucked up’ club?”

“About a month I guess,” Edie said with a sigh. “Me and Harri Munson. They tell you about what happened to his dad? Eddie Munson? Not the monster shit, but the normies fucking shit up stuff?”

Lily let out another long sigh. “Yeah. The witch hunt of the century.”

“Can you please explain why your mother and father didn’t expose the fucking town the way they did the Lab?” Edie asked pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“That is a really good question, Miss Thing,” Lily said. “And I think you just gave me new leverage against my parents over the whole high school senior year dealio. I’ll get back to you.”

“Love you lots!” Edie said.

“Love you more!” Lily replied and then hung up.

“You know,” a voice said from behind her, “that’s a pretty low blow, weaponizing your cousin that way.”

Edie whirled around to see her dad leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he had an easy smile on his face.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop,” she said glaring at him.

“I just came to ask if you wanted pizza or kebabs tonight,” he said, his smile turning into a grin. “I did knock. A couple times in fact. But you were the one plotting world takeover with your bedroom door open.”

Edie flopped on her bed. “Is that one of the reasons we rarely get together, because we’d take over the world?”

Steve laughed. “One of many. One of many.”

Edie grinned. “I’m just correcting a miscarriage of justice is all.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked grinning back at her. “Knowing Lily Byers like I do, I fully expect an expose by the end of the week and formal apology from the city of Hawkins and the state of Indiana to Eddie by the end of the month.”

Edie pretended to toss non-existent long hair over her shoulder. “Good.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug. “I think the reason she didn’t is because of me.”

Edie pulled away slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I think she didn’t want to stir up feelings for Eddie after he left.”

“But he left three months after,” Edie insisted. “Why didn’t she say something then?”

“Our town was nearly destroyed,” Steve reminded her. “And the government had found a scapegoat in Henry Creel, got Eddie off and all this while Eddie was still in a coma from being nearly ripped to bits. She had a lot on her mind those first three months. We all did. And then he got a record deal, he was going to be famous. She probably didn’t want to make waves for him and ruin his chances.”

“Damn it,” she sighed. “Those are all really good reason not blow up the biggest scandal since the ‘gas leak’.”

“So maybe tell Lily to ease up a bit on her mom?” Steve asked.

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Dad.”

Steve sighed. He figured that was the answer, but felt he had to try. At least a little.

*

School was ending and Edie and Harri both had summer school. Mandy and Kenny were free, but then they were good in school and mostly liked by the teachers.

Their rich school was a bit backwards. Probably because it had only been built in the last decade, but Mr Pearson wasn’t the only teacher that turned their noses up at old money students like Edie. She had the misfortune to be old money, too. Her family’s wealth went back as far a century at least.

She wasn’t third or even fourth generation wealthy. Her great-great grandparents were stinking rich. They were among the few families to come out of the stock market crash and Great Depression relatively unscathed. It’s why Dad’s trust fund was so sought after.

A trust fund that only grew because he may not have had a head for numbers, he had a head for business. He knew when to pull out if something was failing and when to pour more money in if they looked on the verge of discovery.

But it meant that all the teachers thought that her dad didn’t earn having his daughter at their school. So they always went a lot harder on Edie then they did her friends. All three of which had parents that came from nothing or very little to make their wealth. Mandy and Harri were both children of rock stars. Kenny’s mom invented some kitchen gadget that had taken the world by storm and now was in nearly every house in the country.

Harri was only joining her in summer school hell because two of the credits he needed to graduation next year didn’t transfer over and he had zero desire to sit with sophomores and juniors his last year of school.

“They should standardize the curriculum across the country,” Harri grumbled, kicking at a rock on their way into school.

Edie sighed. She agreed with him, but if they had she wouldn’t have a summer school buddy to be miserable with.

“I hear that,” was what she said instead. “And you should be allowed to skip a class if you don’t want to take it. As long as you get two years of math, who cares if it’s just basic math. It’s like judging a fish by its ability to climb or however that quote goes.”

“Right?” Harri agreed. “Like if what you want to go into takes heavy math that sure, you do the advanced math, but if you’re going into art and the only math you’re going to need is fractions they shouldn’t have to force you into bullshit like that.”

They both had to take a math class and a science class, so they took the same ones so that they could at least have a study buddy.

“I hate that I have to do this,” Edie groused as she flopped down in a desk somewhere near the back of the class. “It means I can’t go to the gala this year.”

“Gala?” Harri asked, sliding into the desk next to hers. “What gala?”

“The biggest event my dad does all year,” she explained, resting her head on her hands and staring off into the distance dreamily. “He’s involved in a shit ton of charities, but this is his biggest. It’s like the it party of the year and everyone foams at the mouth for an invite.”

“So why can’t you go?” Harri asked.

“Because for everyone else it’s a one night event,” Edie said, “but for my dad it’s a week long thing just prepping for it. And because I have summer school, I can’t help him. His rule has always been that I’ve been too young and that was supposed to change this year. I was going to help out and get to go. But because I have this stupid shit, I have to spend the week at Mandy’s.”

“You’re nearly eighteen,” Harri protested. “Can’t you be left home alone?”

Edie sighed. “If it was about Dad being gone all the time, sure. But it’s not. It’s held at the house. Or rather the backyard. There are people coming and going all hours of the day and night. Setting up lights, preparing food, setting up tables. It’s a whole thing. And if I want to actually pass these classes...”

Harri winced. “You can’t be around all that shit...Point well and truly taken. So what are you going to do instead?”

Edie shrugged. “Normally Mr Lawrence lets Mandy have a party that night and we stay up late watching movies, but I think the Lawrences are going this year, so I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Harri opened his mouth to ask another question, but the teacher chose that moment to walk in and they were forced to pay attention to the class.

***

Part 18 Epilogue

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall @stxrcrossed186

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #reconnecting years later AU #ladykailtiha writes

[mollierdr2]

Harvest Moon

Summary: Short Arthur and f!reader oneshot that takes place well before the events of the game. They reunite after Y/N leaves the gang for a short while after a blowout fight with Arthur. ALSO, I know that this isn't the long one I said I was going to put out, but I'm still not happy with that one & this one feels fine. 'Tis all.

Warnings: not beta-read lol

Word Count: Roughly 2300

As you strode through the desert, shoeless, horseless, and in a tattered purple skirt, you found yourself wishing you’d elected not to rob the burly rich man from the bar.  Not only did the man catch you, but he spooked your damn horse, knocked you upside the head a few times, and left you in the middle of nowhere with no shoes, for whatever reason.  You were, for lack of a better term, worse for wear.  You were considerably thinner than you’d been in a while–a consequence of leaving the place that fed you steadily–and it had aged you slightly, making you appear to be in your 30s, which you had a certain aversion to.  Your feet hurt–the desert is not particularly kind to bare feet in the blazing sun–and you limped ever-so-slightly as you walked.  This is good, you thought.  Maybe people will think I’m crazy and choose not to approach me.

“You know, it would be easier if you had some shoes on, Y/N,” a familiar voice called, and you stopped dead in your tracks.  You were tired, no doubt, but you’d never been tired enough to hallucinate the voice of your detested lover.  The sound of horse hooves drew closer, and when they stopped, you looked up at the driver slowly, almost comically, and your heart fluttered.  You had missed him.

“Mr. Morgan,” you said, doing your utmost to sound cordial. “I’ll have you know that they was taken from me.”

“Seriously?  Not Arthur?”  He held his hand out, adding, “How the hell did that happen?” He sighed. “Come back to camp and get some damn clothes.”

“I told you I was goin’ off on my own,” you responded, crossing your arms.  “I am doin’ just fine out here; makin’ a real name for myself, you know.”

“Yeah, tryin’ to rob the owner of half the shops in town is ‘makin’ a name for yourself’, huh?  You seem to be real good at that, then.”

“Quit followin’ me around.  I don’t go botherin’ you when you need your space.”  Arthur raised an eyebrow.  “I told you I’d come back when I was ready, and I ain’t ready.”  You spat at the ground with conviction, as if to add some sort of leverage to what you’d said.  

“You’re starvin’ damn near to death, Y/N.  Come for one night, get some food in you—get some shoes—and you can leave again without a word from me.  You just… forgive me, but you look a mess.  Let Miss Grimshaw and the girls take care of you.”

“Arthur-” 

“I won’t give you no trouble, okay?  I got lookout duty tonight, so I won’t be in camp anyway… Abigail asked me to fetch you; do it for her?”  Arthur looked down at you with his big blue eyes and a fresh scar on his chin–perhaps from shaving–and you couldn’t say no.  Besides, Abigail probably did need a lady friend who wasn’t past menopause or in the midst of puberty to help her with her pregnancy struggles.  

Reluctantly, you took Arthur’s hand and allowed him to help you onto his horse, Boadicea.  “Don’t think this means I’m stayin’, Arthur Morgan,” you said, making a point not to hold on to his shoulders.  

“I’m not expectin’ anything,” he said back, gently steering the two of you back towards camp, which you’d been–though subconsciously–heading for anyway.  “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed, is all.”

“How thoughtful,” you mused.

“It has been quiet without you, though-”

“Where’d you get that scar? Fightin’ in bars again?” you interrupted, crossing your arms again. 

“What?”  Arthur’s pitch rose.  

“On your chin.”

“Oh, that’s from tryin’ to help John with shaving. Made a fool of myself an’ he won’t let it go.” Arthur gave Boadicea a nice pat on the shoulder and chuckled. “I suppose you have more new scars than I do, huh, Y/N?”

Feeling heat rise to your cheeks and ears, you said, “I don’t intend to speak to you for the remainder of this ride.  I have been doing my utmost to avoid you.”

Arthur hummed, laughing a little, and  steering Boadicea to the left.  “As you wish.”  

It made you mad that he thought he could tease you after everything that had transpired. He knew you weren’t ready to come back—if you were you’d have gone back on your own accord—but here he was, playing the role of the hero that he’d worked so desperately to fit into. You knew Arthur though, and you knew that no matter how good he was, he would never be the hero he tried to be. No one was a hero in this life. You were certainly no heroine, and you figured that your shared lack of heroism was what brought the two of you together in the first place; your bad would always outweigh your good, but you could make peace with the meshing morality if there was someone else who understood your plight. Someone who understood the way it felt to be so bad and good at the same time as intimately as Arthur did was hard to come by, so you found yourself flocking to him from the very beginning. It was only a matter of time before the curtain fell back and he saw how haunted you were by your past—by the wicked things that you’d inflicted upon people—and you couldn’t help but run from that. You couldn’t have the one person who understood you know how awful you truly were.

Arthur wondered, as he accompanied you back to camp, if this was really worth it. He knew he missed you—desperately—but he didn’t want to fight anymore.  He was sick of spending his days bickering with you, though he found that he missed your presence more than he disliked the arguments.  Arguing meant that you were there, at the very least.  He couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or whether or not you were safe–it was why he’d wound up this far South from Camp anyway.  

He remembered why you’d left.  It was his fault, in a way, for trying to convince you to talk about your family.  He remembered the way you shoved him, crying for him to leave you the hell alone, telling him that you hated him.  He was certain it wasn’t true, that it was a spur-of-the-moment type of thing, but it still ate at him.  There was so much he hadn’t told you yet, and he was afraid that he’d never get to tell you if you stayed gone.  He tugged slightly on the reins, taking a right turn.  He shouldn’t have pushed you, he knew that, but it irked him. He just wished you’d learned how to communicate.

You, despite your best efforts to the contrary, could not bring yourself to commit to hating Arthur.  You tried.  You gave him your best angry glare, but you felt that it was too weak.  You were exhausted anyway, too tired for anger.  You decided you’d be angry at him the next day, after you’d slept for a good 18 hours or so.  You thought back to the last time you’d seen Arthur.  You were so angry with him for trying to get you to talk about your Ma and Pa—that was none of his damn business—but now that you thought back on it, it couldn’t have been too unreasonable.  Arthur was not an unreasonable man.  He was no hero, but he was a levelheaded person. You could have at least told him about your brother, but you didn’t, for whatever reason, and you felt guilty for that.  Still, you had to remain firm in your escape.  If you didn’t force the space, you figured, you would never learn to miss him enough to open up to him.  Or you’d forget all about him and the whole thing would be over.  Either way, you had to remain firm.  If you gave up, the throbbing in your left eye would be for nothing.  Your weight loss, acceleration of aging, bankruptcy, and lack of clothes would all be for nothing, and you couldn’t have that.  It had to be for something.  

Being as tired as you were, you found it increasingly difficult to keep from leaning on Arthur.  Your eyelids were magnets, and you felt it rude to neglect such a powerful force of nature, allowing yourself to indulge a little by closing them.  Soon, you were wrapped around Arthur’s torso, head resting on his shoulder blade, and snoring loudly.  He chuckled but didn’t wake you.  He loved seeing you, perhaps the fieriest woman he’d ever met, at peace.  He sang softly to himself the rest of the way to camp, a smile plastered on his now-scarred face.  

When he slowed, you awoke.  You never woke up peacefully–it was not in your nature to–and instead found yourself pushing your body off of Boadicea, momentarily scared out of your mind.  As you hit the ground, landing rather clumsily on your wrist, you remembered what had happened before and that you had, regrettably, fallen asleep on Arthur, your current sworn enemy.  “You okay?” Arthur asked, chuckling slightly.

“I am fine, thank you,” you spat, sitting up.  You then flew to your feet, wiping the dirt off of your palms and bottom, and stomped to the center of Camp in pursuit of Abigail.  

“Y/N, it’s good to see you back,” Hosea remarked from somewhere or other, but you waved him off.  You were on a mission.  You were to find Abigail, curse her for sending Arthur after you, and then tell her all about everything that had happened in the almost month that you had been gone.  

When you located her–heavily pregnant and lounging in a chair by the fire–you beelined toward her, frowning.  “Abigail Roberts,” you angrily exclaimed, pushing through the crowd of men by the fire.  “Why did you send Arthur after me?”

Abigail, taken by surprise, looked up at you, brows raised.  “Y/N, you’re back!”

“I’m visiting,” you corrected.  “And why did you send Arthur after me?  I was doin’ just fine on my own, you know.”

Looking you up and down, a smirk spread its way across Abigail’s lips.  “Yeah, you look it.”  

“Abigail!”

“All I’m sayin’ is that you’ve looked better in your day, okay?”  She rubbed her swollen belly as she spoke.  “And I didn’t send anyone after you–I figured you’d come when it was your time.  You’re like a cat, you know.”

You frowned.  “So Arthur made that up?”

“Seein’ as how I got no idea what you’re goin’ on about, I’ll venture to say that it’s a yes,” Abigail responded, leaning back.  “Now, will you please fetch John to give me a foot massage?”

You nodded idly, looking around camp.  You did not care about wherever John was, for you were far more worried about the location of Arthur, who had seemingly lied to you about his reasoning for picking you up.  The sun had begun to set, though, and it made it significantly harder for you to find anyone.  This did not stop you, though, and you located Arthur at the Southern outskirt of camp, sitting on a large rock and writing in his journal.  

“Arthur Morgan,” you said, finger pointed.  “You lied about why you made me come back here.”  

Arthur lazily looked up, smirking.  “You wouldn’t have come if I didn’t come up with something.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have-”

“Let me say my bit now, if that’s okay with you.”  He folded his journal, tucking it into his satchel.  You scoffed, but he started talking before you could make an ass of yourself.   “I really missed you, Y/N, more than I’ve missed anyone.  I kept goin’ back into that town to make sure you weren’t gettin’ yourself hurt or nothin’, and I hated not bein’ able to just tell you that I missed you.  I mean, you were right there, but I couldn’t do it.  After that man scared away your horse, I beat him–I mean really beat him–so he couldn’t do anything like that again.  And I know I ain’t the best at tellin’ you these things or showin’ that I love you, but-”

“You love me?”  You asked, eyes wide.  You’d never been told those words before.

“Well, yeah… I guess I never told you, huh?”

Tears spilled onto your cheeks and you found yourself in the same place you’d been a month before–crying, truly vulnerable in front of a man who wanted to know and love you.  This time, though, you wouldn’t tuck tail and run.  “Arthur, I-”

“You don’t gotta say nothin’, Y/N-”

“No, I just… it’s just… no one’s ever said they love me before,” you mumbled, staring at the ground.  “Not even my Mama.”

“Well, I do, Y/N,” Arthur reassured, putting his left hand on your shoulder and wiping a stray tear with the other hand.  “And I’m sorry if that scares you away because I know you don’t like lots of emotions or anything, but it’s the truth.  I love you.”

You crumpled into Arthur’s embrace, digging your face into his warm, strong chest.  You’d missed this–being in his arms–and though you were scared, you were pretty sure that you loved him too.  The chip on your shoulder melted.  It didn’t matter how long you’d left because you were back and you were, for perhaps the first time in your life, loved, and that was more than you’d ever thought to be imaginable.  Sniffling, you nestled closer, wrapping your arms around his waist.  He wrapped his arms around your weakened, starving torso, holding you tight.  You couldn’t say it out loud yet, not after the pain you’d endured growing up, but you were at least aware of the fact that you loved Arthur Morgan and you could no longer pretend it wasn’t the truth because he loved you too.  He loved you.  

You knew you’d be able to tell him soon enough.

You wanted to dance and scream it from the rooftops–Arthur Morgan loved you and he was willing to wait on you to be ready to be with him.  He was the first person to openly love you, and nothing else mattered.  “Arthur,” you said, looking up at him.

“Hm?”

“Let’s go dance together, real proper, like rich folks do.”  You smiled, pulling away.  Arthur nodded, letting you lead him to the music at the hub of Camp.  Abigail still sat at the center, waiting on her foot massage from John, but seeing the way you and Arthur were together, arm in arm, she decided it was a lost cause.  You were smitten.  Twitterpated, even.  She just wanted her damn feet to feel better.  

“John Marston,” she called, tipping her head backwards towards their shared tent.  “Come give me a foot massage!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he called back, hurrying to her aid.  

Camp was camp again, illuminated brilliantly by a beautiful full moon, and backed with Javier’s soft plucking on his guitar.  It was like out of a book, you decided, as you danced and dipped and twirled in Arthur’s arms.  It was perfect. Softly, too quiet to hear, you whispered, “I love you too.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan fic #red dead redemption two #high honor arthur #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #idk

[partypoisonzz]

singing vows before we exchange smoke rings (mikey way x reader smut)

Era: Bullets/Van Days (2003)

Reader Pronouns: She/her

Content:

- Recreational drug use (weed)

- An endearingly awkward first time

- Lots of position switching

Word Count: 4,334

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

-

You return to the van after the show, expecting to find the whole band. It isn't that you can't carry the remaining boxes of merch back by yourself, — you totally can, — but having four extra sets of hands generally helps a ton.

Alas, when you shift the box you're currently carrying onto your hip and slide the door open, you find that only one of the guys is accounted for. That one guy happens to be spindly, uncoordinated Mikey.

Though you know that he's hardly any better at carrying merch boxes than you are, thirteen pound bass be damned, you'll take whatever help you can get. "Hey, Mikey?"

He startles at the sound of your voice, looking up from his cell phone. "Oh. Yeah?"

You struggle to keep the box balanced. God knows that you don't want to spill half a box of CDs in the parking lot. "Can I get a little help here?"

"Yeah. Absolutely." He stands up, only to hit his head on the top of the van. "Ow! Shit..." he grumbles, ambling to a stop in front of you. "I'll get that."

He takes the box from you. Though he still struggles to keep it leveraged, he has less trouble carrying it around to the back of the van and lifting it into the trunk than you would. He turns to look at you after setting the box down, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Got any more?"

"Just a few, over by the merch tent," you reply. "I'll buy you a candy bar if you come help me with them."

He flashes you a boyish grin. "Deal."

The two of you head towards the merch tent. "The T-shirts were pretty thoroughly picked through," you say. "CDs got gone, too. I  think we just brought out too many."

"Yeah, well. We can get overzealous sometimes." Mikey stops in front of the table, surveying the remaining few boxes. He picks up the fullest one before heading back towards the van.

You pick up another box and follow him. "So, where did everybody else go?" you ask.

"Out partying," he replies. "Gerard's still messed up over that girl. No matter how many times we tell him that we didn't like her anyway, he still feels the need to mope and drown his sorrows in alcohol."

"Well, he liked her. That makes all the difference." You shove the second box into the trunk. "Alright. One more and I'll get out of your hair."

Mikey places his own box down and turns towards you. "Who says I want you out of my hair?"

You feel your face heating up. Thank God that it's dark outside, or he would see that you're blushing.

You shrug. "I just kinda figured you wanted to be alone, since you stayed back..."

"No," he cuts you off. "You're good. Seriously. I was getting kind of lonely, anyway."

"You aren't just saying that to make me feel better?" you press, following him back to the tent.

He shakes his head. "Nope. In fact, I'd enjoy the company."

Your face grows hotter.

The fact that Mikey might enjoy your company means more to you than you would really like to admit.

"So, why are you stuck on parking lot duty while the rest of the guys have a night out on the town?" You lift the last box full of shirts. "Not to pit you against your bandmates or anything, but that hardly seems fair."

Mikey laughs as he picks up the other box. "You wanna know the truth?"

"Always."

"I'm kinda hungover right now," he says. "Just the thought of looking at liquor makes me want to puke. Not to mention having to spend the rest of my evening with Bert."

You mock-gasp. "Michael!" You jostle him lightly with your shoulder. "How dare you speak ill of your brother's boyfriend?"

Mikey responds to your joking inquiry with a question of his own. "Do you really think watching Bert serve as Gerard's rebound would do anything good for my persistent nausea?"

You pretend to think about it before sighing in mock defeat. "No. I guess not."

"That's what I thought."

With the last merch boxes secured in the back of the van, the two of you are finally left up to your own devices.

"So, what now?" You lean against the side of the van, crossing your arms over your chest. The February night's air has a definite bite to it. "It's about eleven o'clock. We don't have to be in Massachusetts until the day after tomorrow, so who knows when the rest will be back." You cast Mikey a curious glance. "You got any ideas?"

Though you assume that his shrug is intended to seem noncommittal, he has a guilty look about him as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Uh... I might have something..."

You raise your eyebrows at him, but you know better than to ask if he's thinking what you're thinking.

Whatever you hope he might have in mind probably won't be the case. Besides, if he rejects you, you're going to be alone with him for the foreseeable future. How awkward would that be?

"Something like what?" you ask, attempting to keep any hint of hope out of your voice.

Mikey's eyes dart around the parking lot. Once he has apparently decided that he's in the clear, he reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a balled-up plastic bag. "Me and Frank, um... We met a guy before the show..."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "You mean to tell me that you played an entire show with a baggie of weed in your pocket?"

"Uh, kinda... Well, yeah." He doesn't crack a smile. For the moment, he is totally and completely, almost laughably serious. "So, are you in?"

"You're a brave man, Mikey Way." You nod at him. "Sure."

"Great." He pushes the door of the van open and steps back inside. "Just let me grab my stuff..."

You peek your head around the corner. "Don't you want to do it in there?"

"Nah." You hear him rustling around, searching for something. "I don't particularly want to add pot to the stench in here. Brian would kill me." He finally seems to locate what he's looking for, stuffing it into his pocket before carefully working his way down the middle aisle again. "This place is just one big smoke cloud, anyway. As long as we're careful, we'll be fine."

You grin. "Living dangerously, I see. I wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

"You'd be surprised." He closes the door and turns to look at you. "So. You wanna sit on the hood of the van?"

-

"Is that one the big dipper?"

"No. That's the little dipper." You point off into the distance. "The big one's over here, see?"

You turn your head to the side, watching as Mikey squints up at the sky. He appears to be genuinely concentrating.

Finally, he shakes his head. "I don't see a thing," he admits. "But those are definitely stars."

You laugh, reaching to swipe the joint from between his fingers. He lets you take it without putting up a fight.

You take a deep pull, sucking the smoke in until you let out a cough. You pass it back to Mikey, who immediately takes a drag himself.

You try not to think about the fact that the two of you are technically swapping spit right now, albeit not in the way that you would like.

"Was this on your agenda for tonight?" you ask him. "Getting high in the parking lot with the merch girl?"

He pulls away from the joint, passing it back to you as he blows a rather impressive smoke ring. "You aren't just the merch girl, y'know."

"No?" You take a shallower drag before pulling away. Your head already feels fuzzy. Everything around you moves slower, seems gentler. "What am I, then?"

"You're my friend." He sounds so earnest as he takes the joint back, allowing it to burn out between his fingers.

Your chest tightens. Still, you don't give yourself the luxury of believing it. "You really think that?" you ask dubiously. "We barely get the opportunity to get two words in to each other most of the time. Plus, you're a rockstar, and I'm just some loser, trying to scrape through college..."

"I am not a rockstar," he cuts you off. "The rest of the guys could be, I guess. Gerard's got the stage presence. Frank's got the work ethic. Ray's... Well, he's the best guitarist I've ever met, really. But me?" He shrugs. "I just had the vision. I know we're a glorified garage band. I'm just happy to be in a band at all."

He shoots you a shy smile. "If I had any sense about me, I'd be in your shoes right now," he says. "Maybe we'd share a class or something."

You shake your head vehemently. "No."

"No what?" Mikey giggles, reaching a finger out to poke you in the ribs. "You think you're too smart to share a class with me?"

Christ, he's stoned. Not that you aren't, too.

"No," you repeat. "You shouldn't be in my shoes right now. And you're definitely not in a glorified garage band." You meet his eyes through the dark.

"You're gonna make it, Mikey," you tell him. "Not just your band. You. There's more to you than you give yourself credit for."

At first, he just blinks at you.

Your stomach sinks. If he hadn't figured out that you had a crush on him before, he definitely knows now.

Finally, he laughs. There's no malice in it, nor discomfort. He sounds... Well, happy.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "That, ah... That means a lot."

You sigh, turning away from him. Your face feels like it's about to catch fire. Even though the compliment lit him up, you still feel so stupid. Like you shouldn't be sitting here next to him, smoking his weed, taking up his time.

You like him. You've liked him since the moment you first met him. Knowing that the band is going to take off, — you can feel it in your bones that they will, — and that you'll have to trade in your merch-selling gig for something more substantial, you know that this is a dumb thing to put yourself through. Mikey will be able to go after anyone he wants, and he won't think twice about that one merch girl back in Jersey ever again.

A cold gust of air passes by, causing you to shiver.

"Are you cold?" Mikey scoots closer to you. "Here."

You watch as he shrugs out of his coat. "You don't have to do that," you protest. "I'm okay."

He shakes his head. "You're freezing," he argues. "I can tell."

"Mikey..." You trail off as he holds his coat out to you.

His eyes are red and sleepy, but they're also full of hope.

You sigh and pull your arms through the sleeves.

Mikey practically beams as you pull the coat tighter around you. "There we go."

Before you can stop it, the question that is currently nagging at you slips from your tongue. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Mikey blinks at you. "What do you mean?" he asks. "Am I not always nice?"

"Yeah, but..." You reach up, nervously running a hand through your hair before listing off all the things he's done tonight that have fucked with your head.

"Helping me with the merch was one thing. I figured you were just being decent," you start. "But then you asked me to stay with you and invited me to smoke and listened to me talk about constellations and called me your friend and said I was smart and..."

"Hey." You startle at the feeling of his hand on your shoulder at first. Just when he's about to pull away, however, you melt into his touch. Just like you've been dying to do forever.

Mikey sighs, staring across the parking lot. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't wanna, like... make you uncomfortable, or give you the wrong idea, or anything..."

"It isn't anything like that," you say. "I'm just..." You look down at the ground, huffing out a broken laugh before looking back up at him.

"I know that you have other people you could call," you go on. "So why me?"

He looks at you like you've grown an extra head. "What do you mean, why you?"

"I didn't think you knew I existed," you blurt out. "Well, I mean, you knew I existed, obviously, since I've been working for your band, and I've hung out with you guys a few times after shows. But the fact that you care enough to want to hang out with me... To listen to me talk about nothing... To give me your jacket..." You give another watery laugh, pulling your knees up to your chest. "It just doesn't make sense to me."

For a few moments, Mikey seems to mull over everything you've just told him, absentmindedly rubbing gentle circles against your shoulder all the while.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "You know what you said earlier about there being more to me than I give myself credit for?"

You give him a shaky nod.

He smiles gently at you. "I think the same could be said about you," he continues. "You know why I asked you to hang out with me tonight?"

"Why?"

"Because there's nobody in my contact list who I would rather keep me company. I want to get to know you."

"You aren't bullshitting me?"

"Not at all. You've always been so good to me and the band... Always have something nice to say... Everyone else just talks, but you..." He chuckles.

"You listen," he continues. "Sometimes I just look at you and know that you're taking it all in, y'know? That you care about other people. That you're here for us just as much as you're here for yourself." He squeezes your shoulder before pulling his hand back. "Basically, what I'm trying to say is... If you're just the merch girl, then you're the greatest merch girl alive. But I see you as a little more than that."

You're taking it all in right at this very moment. You swallow, your throat cotton-dry. All that comes out is his name. "Mikey..."

You take another moment to gather your thoughts, then clear your throat before trying again.

Somehow, you manage to meet his eyes. "Thank you," you tell him. "Really."

"Thank you." Maybe you're just high, but it feels like he's genuinely looking into your soul. This delights you just as much as it scares you.

"For what?"

"For being you."

At some point, one of you moved a little closer to the other. You don't know which one of you it was, but that doesn't really matter.

Whatever the case, both of you are inching even closer to one another now, your lips coming this close to touching.

It's no longer a matter of whether or not the feelings you have for him are mutual. It's fairly obvious that they are.

At this point, the only question is which one of you will close the distance between you.

As it would turn out, it's Mikey.

He places his hand on your cheek before leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours. His lips are a little rough, — chapped from the cold, — but the way that he kisses you is so soft. He's gentle, tender. You close your eyes, placing your hands on the back of his neck.

Rather than coming to an end, the kiss just keeps deepening. You let out a squeak of surprise as your back hits the hood of the van.

You swear that this all feels like a dream. You're splayed out on top of the van beneath the stars, your head fuzzy, with Mikey on top of you. You're making out with the guy you've had your eye on for months, and you're wearing his coat, and...

And he's pulling on the bottom of your shirt. Wow. Okay.

He pulls back, looking down at you tentatively. His hand still lingers at the hem of your T-shirt. "Is this okay?"

You nod before leaning in to kiss him again.

You jerk back as soon as his hand meets your skin.

Mikey gives you a look of concern, pulling his hand away. "You alright?"

"Fine. Your hands are just really cold."

"Sorry." He rubs his palms together before placing a hand on your arm. "What about now?"

You laugh. "Yeah. That's better."

"Good." His hand climbs up your shirt again, and the two of you go right back to kissing.

Before you know it, his hand is climbing under your bra. You reach up to bury your hands in his hair as his fingertips explore your skin.

He presses his entire body closer to yours, moaning into your mouth.

You feel him, hard beneath his jeans and pressing against your thigh.

In a split second, you make a decision.

You pull away, managing to pant out two words. "Hey, Mikey?"

Struggling to regulate his own breathing, he looks down at you, pupils blown wide. "Hmm?"

"If this is gonna go any further, we've gotta get in the backseat," you say. "I am not about to fuck you on top of this van."

It doesn't take him long to come up with a response to this. "Alright," he says. "Backseat, it is."

-

As soon as the two of you climb into the backseat, you're kissing again. Mikey pulls you onto his lap, tugging his coat off of you and tossing it aside. You grind your hips down against his experimentally as his tongue explores the inside of your mouth.

"Fuck," he curses quietly, pulling away from you.

You grin down at him. He gives you a shaky laugh. "C'mere," he murmurs, hands gripping your hips. "Let me see you."

His hands reach for the bottom of your shirt again, pulling it over your head.

He sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes scan over your bare skin. "Beautiful."

The way that the word falls from your lips is almost enough to make you believe it.

"And what about you?" you ask, tugging on his own shirt. He shifts, allowing you to pull it off of him.

You smile, running your hands over his chest. "You're not so bad yourself, y'know," you murmur before pressing your lips to his neck and sucking.

He throws his head back, giving you access to more of his skin. His low groan is music to your ears as your mouth travels over his skin.

"You're unreal," he says, voice high and desperate.

You pull back with a sly smile. "If that's what you think after second base, I'm curious to know what you'll have to say after you hit the homerun."

He chuckles. "Well, why don't we just find out?"

He reaches for the button of your jeans. You lift your hips after he pulls down the zipper, allowing him to tug them off.

You gasp as his hand slips down the front of your underwear.

"You're soaked already." His remark carries notes of genuine awe. "Thought I was gonna have to finger you before we could..."

You roll your hips into his hand, whimpering. "Please," you beg him. "Need you now, Mikey. Just go ahead and fuck me."

He exhales shakily. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were driving him just as crazy as he's driving you. "Okay," he breathes. "Yeah. That can be arranged."

You reach down, undoing his own jeans as you kick your underwear away. Just before you toss them into the floor, he stops you. "Wait."

You freeze, watching as he fishes his wallet out of his pocket. He reaches inside and pulls out a foil packet.

You can't look away as you watch him pull down his boxers and roll on the condom. Your breath hitches as your gaze settles on his cock.

Just as you imagined, he's big. Still, your imagination didn't quite do it justice. You can only wonder how it will feel inside of you.

Pretty soon, you won't have to wonder.

"Alright," he breathes.

You inhale shakily, lowering yourself down on him.

You moan shakily as he presses into you. You slide down slowly, relishing the feeling of him filling you up, until you finally take him all the way.

"Holy shit," you mutter before rolling your hips. Mikey groans, thrusting up into you.

You gasp, fingernails scraping down his shoulders.

The two of you move against each other, attempting to establish a tentative rhythm. As good as it feels, you soon find that your position isn't doing you any favors.

Your legs are spread awkwardly across the van's back aisle. If Mikey's arms weren't wrapped around your waist, you might go careening backwards into the floor. Every now and then, Mikey accidentally hits his head on the roof of the van, causing him to mutter a low curse under his breath before going back to what he was doing.

Finally, you speak up. "Mikey?" you ask.

He freezes underneath you with a quiet groan. "Yeah?"

"The position that we're in," you say. "I don't think that it's very... practical."

He looks down, huffing out a laugh. "You're right." He meets your eyes with a soft smile. "I've got an idea. Lay on your back."

You lift your hips, whining slightly as he slips out of you. Mikey shifts slightly as you stretch across the seat. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

He positions himself over you, arms coming to rest on either side of your head. He presses a kiss to your lips as he pushes back inside of you before pulling back. "Is this good?"

"Y-yeah. It is."

And for a while, it really is. Until he begins to fuck into you faster, causing the seatbelt fastener to dig into your back with every thrust.

"Wait, wait, wait... Ow, my back," you manage. 

Mikey stops once again. Though he's breathing even harder this time, — getting close, you know, — he gives you the same gentle look of concern. "You okay?"

"I am, but can we just..." You shift underneath him slightly. "Can we readjust a bit?"

"Of course. Lemme help you, actually." He grabs your hips, pulling you towards him. You gasp, feeling him plunge deeper inside of you.

"Better now?" he asks, forehead resting against yours.

You nod. "Much better."

With that, he picks up his pace again. Not only are you in an actually comfortable position now, but he manages to hit your G-spot with nearly every thrust.

You loop your arms around his neck, holding onto him as he speeds up. As worried as you were about the weed, you know that the van is probably rocking back and forth, and if someone caught you like this, it would probably be even worse.

You let out a soft moan as his hand slides between the two of you. He circles your clit in time with his thrusts, causing the pull between your hips to intensify quickly.

"Mikey..." you whimper.

"Feel good?" he asks.

"Uh huh," you say. "Filling me up so good, Mikey, Jesus Christ..."

He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his head dips down towards your neck. He presses a kiss there, his teeth scraping slightly over your skin before he pulls back.

"You're so pretty," he murmurs in your ear. "Didn't think I was gonna get to see you like this tonight. Do you know how long I've been thinking about this?"

Your heart beats faster at this tidbit of information. How long had it been since he first noticed you in that light? "N-no," you say. "How long?"

"Not long after I first met you," he replies. "I nearly passed out every time you so much as smiled at me. Never thought you'd give me the time of day."

You struggle to keep your composure as your breathing speeds up, your climax approaching quickly. "But here I am."

His lips brush against your collarbone. "Here you are."

The waves of pleasure begin rolling through you, threatening to take over completely.

You say his name again, a desperate cry. "Mikey. I'm gonna..."

Just as you feel yourself tightening around him, his head falls to your shoulder. He releases inside of you with a deep groan.

You close your eyes, relishing the feeling of losing control at the exact same time that he does. What are the odds?

You don't mind when Mikey pretty much collapses on top of you. The weight of his ribs pressing against yours is comforting, in a way. A reminder that this is all real.

"Wow," he murmurs. "That was... You were..."

You brush a kiss across his jaw. "Unreal?"

He gives a raspy laugh. "Yeah. That sounds about right."

Your lips meet one more time before he pulls out. "We should probably get dressed before the others get back," he says.

"Probably," you agree. Though there's a part of you that longs to lay in his arms a little longer and soak up the moment, you tell yourself to be realistic.

Still, you feel a surge of hope when he asks you: "Wanna do that again sometimes?"

"Sure," you reply quickly, pulling your jeans back on. "When?"

He pauses to think for a moment. "How about after the next show?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Great."

You know the way that this will go if you keep doing this. You know that isn't a smart idea. You're halfway to falling for him already. You'll want more in no time.

Still, when he leans over to kiss your cheek, only to hit his head on the roof and huff out what must be his hundredth 'fuck' of the night, you decide that this is more than enough for now.

-

Taglist (Ask to be included!): @mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper @clichedlovers @yachiiko

#mikey way x reader #mikey way fanfiction #mikey way smut #mikey way imagines #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance x reader #kinktober 2022 #mcr x reader #mcr fanfiction #mcr imagines #my chemical romance smut #my writing

[sporesgalaxy]

Uh, hi. So, I feel like I missed a lot of context about your tohsona's whole . . . deal? What I've gathered is that she (they?) is half-witch and there was a whole thing with a sister and now Belos is showing up to be belos??? I'm so confused could you please explain

yeah i mean if you dig around the tag (#tohsona) you can see me talk abt it some more, but it'll probably be handy to dump it all in 1 place.

Firstly, it's a self insert, so [taps the blog description] any pronouns.

Secondly, not an actual half witch. Has unusually small ears, allegedly because of a very distant human ancestor.

•••

related: cut panel from an earlier draft of that comic that touches on a concept I keep almost bringing up but always ends up being cut for whatever reason

Secondly, mmmost of the stuff Ive drawn full comics of has been in shared dreams with Belos/Philip.

Dreamwalking is a magic power I made up for fun because I like dreams a lot and one of my friends in 7th grade swore up and down that she also had a dream I had about her the same night I had it.

Any witch might involuntarily dreamwalk into a strangers a few times in their life. They usually don't even notice. But Signy is not so lucky.

Signy and Belos keep ending up in each other's dreams. This is less than ideal for both of them, because it risks Signy finding out Philip and Belos are the same person, and risks Belos finding out tyat Signy is technically a wild witch.

(They love Illusion magic too much to give it up, but hate using it for a job and would prefer to work in the beastkeeping coven. Achieved this because of beuracratic error and being too unremarkable to raise suspicion.)

Belos assumes they're invading his mind on purpose at first. When this is inevitably disproven by Signy's cluelessness, Belos tries leveraging the situation to his advantage. How exactly this happens depends on however the dream or conversation directly preceeding it goes, but the sentiment is clear:

Belos wants the witch capable of this to be either on his side or out of his way.

The real reason their dreams keep connecting is because they both have strong magic and a lot of overlap in their subconscious fears.

Signy was terrified of wild magic as a child, and took Belos' preaching about it very seriously. But between wild magic being so nebulous, and Sig's struggles with controlling her own magic...

...Sig ended up very scared of and reluctant to cast or participate in most magic. This gradually created a rift in the once close friendship between Sig and their older sister, who was a talented witch and very enthusiastic about "questionable" forms magic by the Emperor's metrics. This parallels Philip and Caleb's once close relationship falling apart over "dangerous" magic.

However, Signy responded with self isolation rather than fratricide. Sig stewed in their feelings of inadequacy, and harshly repressed their resentment, inverse to Philip embracing his resentment wholeheartedly while completely rejecting any sense of self-doubt. So trading nightmares is...very uncomfortable for both of them. :)

#tohsona

[positivelybeastly]

The quiet council are really corrupt aren't they? They seem like the kind of people who would risk people's live than their possession of power.

"What country do you come from? You're on a social media platform, typing in fluent English, so I would assume somewhere in what would be considered 'the western world' - America, the United Kingdom, Europe, etc. I do so hate to be the one to educate you, but this describes every single government that ever has, ever will, ever can exist."

"A government's purpose is to unify their country under a coherent policy, and while the details of that policy may change depending on your political leanings, the fundamental truth remains the same - it is the job of government to stay in power.

You leverage your natural resources to remain economically independent, you leverage your skill and expertise to remain in intellectual stride, you leverage your population to remain both militarily independent and maintain a steady growth rate."

"It just so happens that one of Krakoa's greatest natural resources is an infinite supply of mutants with powers that can change the world. People question why must Krakoa be this way, why must we have such a cavalier disregard for life, why must we treat our flesh as disposable - I say that this is a stupid question, because how else can Krakoa be?

Should we treat resurrection as something special, something hallowed? Oh, the sheep can do that if they want, with their bleating about, 'but do we KNOW them?' and their pitiful affirmations that we are anything other than regrown flesh, but anyone with half a brain knows the truth. Every single mutant with a genetic sample in our gene bank and a telepathic back-up in our Cerebro cradles is expendable. How could they not be?

Just as the humans at first treated television or penicillin as the newest wonder of the world at first, but then came to regard it as simply part of their natural born lives, so it shall go with resurrection. And that is correct. The Quiet Council should risk mutant lives. I'd rather they do that than anything inherently valuable."

"That being said, the Quiet Council are fools. Every single one of them is an idiot of the highest order. Spinning their wheels against one another rather than advancing our common good, that's the part I really take umbrage with. Well.

That, and meddling in my business."

Yeah, this is one of those things where, that's just the story. Every single member of the Quiet Council - and yes, I am absolutely including the 'good ones' like Storm, Jean Grey, Nightcrawler, Xavier, Magneto, etc - is a corrupt piece of shit with warped morality, and yeah, it's partly because that is . . . sort of, what modern government 'requires'?

It's hard to be ethical in a modern political scene, it really fucking is, especially if you want to be successful. You don't make friends by telling the people you want to rally behind you not to accept bribes, not to stab each other in the back, to put the people's interests before their own, etc. A degree of compromise is required to get anywhere.

But that being said, fuck all these fuckers.

Every single one of them signed off on Beast's genocide of Terra Verde. Jean Grey, vaunted 'heart' of the X-Men, just slapped him around a bit with telekinesis, and then left him to go on to do worse and worse things.

Every single one of them signed off on Beast's space prison (SERIOUSLY, FUCKING JUSTIFY THAT TO ME, MARVEL, THAT IS SO FUCKING EGREGIOUS).

They only turned on Beast when it affected someone that they all know, Logan. They only began to care when it was one of their own that got hurt in his machinations. And even then, they were still more than happy to let him act as a rogue agent against human interests rather than take him down.

And that's just in X-Force and Wolverine. Emma's manipulation of Havok and Empath for her political gain, anyone? The sheer rank fucking hypocrisy of sending Orphan-Maker to the Pit for the crime of killing two humans, of sending Havok to the Hellions for the crime of injuring three others, while X-Force just gets to do whatever it wants?

The sheer rank, vile hypocrisy. When fucking Nanny shows more care for people than you do? That's how you know it's fucked up.

Oh, shut the fuck up, Scott. You spent the Krakoan era schtupping Logan and Jean and playing war games instead of taking care of your brother - and you're either too much of a pussy to stand firm and tell him that Maddie's bad for him, or too blind to see that she's making him worse.

Either way, I don't want to hear shit about people not being pawns from the guy who formed the Utopia X-Force.

This also gives me an opportunity to talk about one of my favourite moments in the Krakoan era for Beast. Ready?

When the Director of X-Force, the Butcher of Terra Verde himself, is telling you that you failed your people because of political expediency, then I'm sorry, but you fucked up.

I'm really glad you feel bad about this, Emma.

Now fucking do something about it.

Fucking bullshit biotechnological oligarchy with fucked up morals and fucked up ethics and a fucked up death pit and a fucked up council and a fucked up everything.

People often complain about the Krakoan era not having great villains (Orchis got notably less threatening when they became just a palette swapped Sinister's army of palette swapped AIM beekeepers), and while that's true, there's an argument to be made that every single time someone stepped into the Quiet Council, you were being faced with twelve villains sitting at their desks, because they do not come out of the Krakoan era looking good.

Enough of them voted in favour of what X-Force did, or were happy to allow it complete carte blanche (which is just as bad if not worse), that I hold each and every one of them responsible.

Great story beats. Infuriating, in the way that all good political critique is. More of that, please.

#vinial453 #verse: each of us is a nest of lies #outofmuffins

[papirouge]

I can’t stop crying, I’ve lost more friends in Gaza… yet so many Christian evangelicals have yet to even mention that Christians in Gaza exist. Or if they do, it’s criticism and blaming Gaza for the genocide that’s happening. It’s as if they fully believe it’s a Jew/Muslim conflict when it’s not. It’s an idf-Hamas conflict.

I lost contact with one of my friends and haven’t been able to get any info. The terror keeps coming. And there was no where to go, it hurts. And I’m so angry at that Christians in the west just ignoring it all

.......... I'm really sorry anon...

I've never felt that powerless in my life, and my heart aches for all those people being murdered before our eyes, and the Christian community either condoning such heinous act or turning the head around... They will have to take accountability for their cowardice....

The body of Christ is ONE. If someone cuts your leg or hand, you will definitely feel it and your whole body is going to react to it. But Western Christians? They look away like the cowards that they are. Mind you, they are the same ones that are so suuuuure to resist the antichrist when he will come. Meanwhile, they are unable to voice the slightest support to our Christian brothers in Palestine out of fear... What kind of clownery is that? At least, I don't mind people refusing to cover any sort of world news bc they are consistent in their lane, but I'm thinking about all those Christians who have aaaaaalways so many things to say abt the latest stupid stunt in the news, the wokes, feminists, liberals... Suddenly they are VERY quiet. That's a choice. They are disgusting.

Even the anti Muslim/let's protect Christianism from Islam uwu Christian YouTuber squad are pulling out video exPoSinG Hamas while not saying a single word abt the Christian casualties (David Wood, Apostate Prophet, etc.) They are full of it, and I will never ever again take them seriously in their defense of Christianity in middle east when those ghouls don't even have a word to say about our Palestinian Christian brothers dying under Israeli strikes and PLEADING for our attention and prayers... They only care about Christians dying because of ISLAM, when they die for any other reason, they will defiect. Like, yeah, Hamas sucks - we been knew. What's the point of making 1 video a day about them? In what way does it remotely dismiss the atrocity of whatever's happening in Gaza???

It's so sick to see pro Israel constantly move the goalpost to paint themselves as the only victims, and worse, downplaying what's happening in Gaza.

They will deflect on antisemitism in pro Palestine protests (while acting like the very same didn't happen in pro Israel protests with the most rabid islamophobic genocidal crap), semantics about what Zionism is and whether it's antisemitism (meanwhile palestinians are literally DYING), that they don't care about Gaza as long as the hostage aren't fred (when if they actually really cared abt the hostages they wouldn't encourage Israel to bomb Gaza bc the actual hostages risk dying out there along the Hamas...🤦🏾‍♀️), or shouting "free Gaza from Hamas !!" as if any of that justified bombing civilians... oh and let's not forget the feminist/liberal edge of Israel defense with the "Palestianian are sexist/homophobic so there's no point defending them" stupid narrative....

I think the reason pro Israel are so bad in their rhetoric is that for years they've been used to leverage their Jewishness to get empathy and immunity against accountability.

But it's over now. We have social medias and we can witnessing in real time the horror of Tsahal actions. How they aren't any morally better than Hamas. We've seen the Israeli mocking Palestianians nit having water or food...

"you were quiet when the Hamas assassinated Israelis" we were quiet because this operation went so fast and that Israel quickly retaliated. There was no way to stop the Hamas bc NO ONE knew it was coming, so what did they expect us to do?? Just bc we don't say anything doesn't mean we approve. Do you see people condemn suicide/terrorist attacks whenever they happen?? IMO there wouldn't be such an outrage is Israel left it at that and didn't go overboard with launching a whole war against Gaza. The reason the world is siding with Palestinian is because we are witnessing the ongoing massacre of population with the actual (political and/or economical) backup of our respective countries for DAYS now. Unlike the Hamas attack, there are ways to stop it. The Hamas didn't cut the water & food supply of Israelis. Palestinians aren't clowning on social medias the Jewish civilians who were killed by the Hamas. That's why the world is shocked and is siding with Palestine and is slowly but surely getting fed up with the cognitive dissonance of Israelis crying oppression while acting like soulless ghouls. Crying antisemitism isn't fooling anyone anymore.

#answered

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

if there is one thing that Bart is getting out of this Dark Crisis it's that he saw through the whole Paradise charade from the getgo so he can hold it over Tim and Conner for the rest of their lives. And I laughed when I saw how Fake-Cassie tried to tempt Bart with the whole "you'll be the next Flash" as Bart, who never cared about that in the first place, just went, "i can _literally_ see the cracks in this world."

Oh god yeah 🤣

You couldn't pay Bart to be the Flash. He even says that he doesn't want to be the Flash in issue 1 of Young Justice Dark Crisis. You can really tell that he's not impressed with the offer lmao.

Honestly Bart is super in character in this series and it's amazing but it's also so confusing because how do you understand Bart so well (aside for that one comment about Barry being easier to talk to than Wally) but misunderstand Cassie, Cissie and Conner so much???? I just don't get it.

Back to Bart though, the cracks in reality comment and the heavy focus on Bart's competency has me wondering if Bart's gonna crack this reality like an egg.

My current theory is that Fake Cassie is Mr. Mxyzptlk's son. Fake Cassie has been shown altering reality with her snaps and Bart said that she was 'pulling the strings' so to speak. If Fake Cassie really was fake then reality wouldn't exactly be bending around her. I don't think she's a construct, I think she's this Mikey guy in disguise.

Fake Cassie says something about 'him' being upset that they aren't playing along and I think Fake Cassie (Mikey) was referring to Pariah. He's the ones creating these fake worlds and trapping people in them and he also has an army of brainwashed bad guys working for him, so I could definitely see Pariah letting Mikey collect Young Justice and trap them in one of his worlds. Mikey definitely has a Young Justice obsession and probably begged to be the one to do it (I mean same tho lol)

So yeah, long story short, I think Mikey has this world on loan and it'd just be an awful shame if something were to happen to it. Just real bad luck. I mean, it'd be so terrible if Bart were to use those cracks in reality that he can see and the world's slower processing speed and use that information to completely crash reality. But Bart wouldn't do a thing like that, no siree. I'm sure Bart will be as delicate with reality as any other speedster.

Okay but seriously though, if they're going up against a multidimensional imp then they need some serious leverage. I'm sure we all remember when Mr. Mxyzptlk turned the boys into fingers. How do you fight that? Only thing I can think of is Bart turning on his scary eyes with extra extra lightning and threatening to break his toys.

#i got off track here #but i really want bart to be scary competent #like 'breaking reality' level scary #give bart a Flashpoint moment #make his friends flinch a little #remember when bart threw Superboy prime into the speedforce? i want that same energy here #dc #the flash #kid flash #dc comics #impulse #bart allen #young justice #dark crisis on infinite earths #young justice dark crisis #dark crisis #young just us

[justatalkingface]

Even more so than the other female characters, I argue Momo has been screwed over massively both in-universe and out; her public image is in tatters after being publicly humiliated during the Sports Festival, meaning the hero industry is unlikely to take her seriously, and from then on she's constantly being denied any poorrtunity to be relevant or even prove she's more than someone who can help the "true" heroes, in spite of being potentially the most OP character in the entire fucking setting.

I've actually written a fic that deconstructs the way she's treated by Horikoshi and the likely in-universe consequences of such.

Ah, Momo. You were meant for so much more than this.

So, the thing is with Momo and her reputation is you need to remember that she's not... unique in these problems. To be blunt, you can count on one hand the number of non-sexualized females of any importance, and it seems to be baked into the industry on a fundamental level, again considering how sexualized the heroines seem to be. So, in that context, Momo's outfit (sigh) isn't actually a problem, because the only reason she shows so much more skin that everyone else is because of her power which 'demands' it.

The thing is that Momo's costume has both Watsonian and Doyislist problems with it's design; on the Watsonian end, Mirio exists, as I've said before, and since his costume can be made to work with his power, there's no reason that Momo's costume can't work with her powers. And, while it's canon that she asked for that skin to be exposed, to work with her powers (which... I kind of look at judgingly but ultimately can buy), the people who made her costume, presumably, actually communicate with their customers and offer suggestions, like, 'what if we make this this color instead'? Or, maybe, and relevently, 'what if we make it so you don't have to be half naked and exposed to the elements to use your power'?

It honestly should be part of their jobs to not only make what these kids want, but to help them figure out what they want, and use their careers in making these kinds of costumes to think of something an inexperienced kid without industry knowledge wouldn't.

Or, to be even bolder, even if that was, like, a UA special, something that would have to happen in-house after being in school instead of random company or something... buttons exist. And zippers. And velcro. And, hell, magnets, if you want to be fancy with My Hero's high tech levels, and are used in her dictionary she carries around. In other words, even if Momo's powers require all this exposed skin to properly leverage it... can't they do something that opens and closes? So she can be battle ready, and then be able to walk around and not get sick from a brisk breeze; rocket science that isn't.

Meanwhile, the Doyalist problem is that Hori designed this. The requirements for the power exist because of him, her costume looks like that because he wants it to. Even if you're keeping to the idea of 'made from her body' to go off the idea that Quirks are biologic, it's so unnatural that it wouldn't stretch imagination that whatever she made just sprouted from her hands, and that things like the size to skin ratio are as irrelevant as Momo making a cannon that probably weighs more than she does without visibly losing weight.

There are dozens of ways, with minimal changes to her Quirk, to get past this problem. Hori chose none of them.

On the matter of Sports Festival humiliation... the cheerleading and Tokoyami. On the cheerleading... Yeah. While that was personally humiliating, in that she didn't want to do it, was tricked into doing it, and was unhappy about it, between MHA's entire... female end of the heroics in general, and the way they did it as a group, outsiders probably thought they just did that to encourage their classmates and so it was acceptable, instead of being punked on national television. So, from that perspective, that probably didn't damager her career, but only because MHA heroics standards on this thing is so low that no one thought much of it.

Which. Is not exactly a shining defense: 'Everything about this is terrible, therefore this one specific terrible thing vanished into all the other terrible things and so had no real consequences!' is not an argument that fills me with the warm fuzzies, but it is what it is.

Tokoyami though... I'm going to segway this into her power in general, because the thing is she should have been able to win that, easily.

Tokoyami: I use my incredibly light sensitive living shadow!

Momo: I use a road flare! Or a flashbang! Or a spot light! Or one those big flashlights that can cause actual damage to your eyes!

Tokoyami: Oh no, my one weakness! Bright light!

Momo: Haha! My big brain allowed me to see your weakness and pull out the proper tool to exploit it to my advantage!

After that, use a bo staff, her default weapon that she's trained in using, or something to drive him off the stage; GG easy.

The thing is with Momo's powers is... part of it is that, obviously, that Hori doesn't want her to be competent, or powerful, or a viable threat to anyone tougher than a nameless thug, the same way that every female not named Mirko is. But more that, more than the other female heroes, her power is just... criminally under used, and to some extent it's because it's that potentially broken.

I've mentioned it before, beyond anything else a tranq gun, some flashbangs, and more sleeping gas in a more easily handled container would be a massive game changer; a good ninety percent of the setting could be easily managed with those tools alone, and maybe her wearing a gas mask or some night vision goggles.

But if I'm remembering right, she uses a electric proof blanket to survive Kaminari's full out electric blast. Well, off that alone, she should also be able to make some sort of fire retardant material to tank fire, warm stuff, layers and actual heat generation for ice, and depending on the situation something super absorbent or a rebreather for water, and just like that the basic elements are covered.

Walls in the way? Good thing Momo has siege equipment/a cannon/high explosives/a battering ram!

Are you falling? Jet pack/pillows/pile of flubber, depending on how serious you're playing it and how high tech the objects she can make.

Speaking of, support gear exists, which can effectively give people superpowers while using them, including offense ones. Momo is a super genius who can memorize things super easily, with a belt carried dictionary filled with useful designs. Why... can't she just pull out 'Insert gear here' for any given situation?

Because it's too broken, too adaptable. Full Potential Momo is basiclly memetic Infinite Prep Time Batman; at virtually any given situation, with the technology she should be able to access, she should be able to counter whatever problem she's facing almost instantly, short of Izuku, SFO, AFO, and the few others with enough raw power to just overwhelm her adaptability. She's so broken that, if Hori allowed her any true successes, (more) people are going to start asking, 'What about Momo? Why can't she do X like she did last time?'

So, instead of dealing with that, the genius prodigy Momo is just stuck with an idiot ball for a head.

#ask #mha critical #bnha critical #hori's chronic hatred of women #please give her some clothes #momo is op #momo is basiclly batman

[fluffypotatey]

Leverage Ep 11 >:3

Pre-game thoughts:

ngl the last episode was a lot of fun! got to see Nate at his breaking point, Sophie being the best (as always), ALEC AND ELIOT DUO!!!!!

also it looks like this one focuses on Parker? (at least, that’s what the blurb says 🤷🏻‍♀️) so praying for more moments for my ot3 🥰 either as duos or altogether, I do not care. just want them to have screen time 

anyway, can’t really think of anything else to add???

I mean, this is the last episode before the 2-parter finale, so I’m curious if this will touch on…..the ✨insurance company✨and that uh Crowley-looking dude (unrelated to GO!Crowley, a show I should also watch)

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT ON WITH THE SHOW ✨ 

Reaction:

ooooooh a flashback 👀

Ok that was not a safe dose

AHHHHHH THE STOVE

NOOOOOOOOO ERNESTO

is he dead?????

oooooooooh team drama 👀

lmaooooo parents (Nate/Sophie) using jury duty as a lesson

“Yeah, I know jury duty, this seems legit” <- has only gone once

OooooOOOoooooOoOooh defendant is wearing colored shades, he must be an asshole 😂

WAIT WHAT

WHO IS FILMING THE CASE???? IS THAT LEGAL????

babe, please step the fuck away from the jury panel. i would not be in favor of you anyways with you standing so close wtf

oop! she knows!!! fuck they’re gonna strike her out 

ok but seriously who are those camera people???? are they even a real legal team???? the ick is strong, I hope they burn this other team to the ground

YES PARKER

CONVINCE THEM

SHUT NATE YOU WERE A SLIMY INSURANCE MAN BEFORE YOU DONT GET TO TALK

everybody giving Nate the stink eye, yesssssssssss 

(You would think, with how much I yell at this man, I hate him, but tis the opposite! Love him. He’s just an asshole, and I would never like him in person, great character <3)

OMFG ALEC BACKSTORY??????

YES PLEASE

NANA YOU BADASS

ELIOT AND PARKER DUOOOOOO

FUCK YES

Lmao he took the beer

literally before clicking play I was like “you know, I don’t think Parker and Eliot have been a duo yet” AND HERE WE GO

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

nO glasses guy 🫢 was a faker?! <- is not shocked

jfc Alec is good 😍

ok what you doing Parker? oh wait nvm 

Chess???? lmao you nerd

“Hmmmm how do we show an evil character is smart…..I KNOW! Chess!”

ohhhhhh big pharma ok (can’t believe it took me this long)

WAIT WE DOING POISONED APPLE

ugh no we’re not

oh shit bribery????

ELIOT PLAYS CHESS???? you fucking nerd 💕

lmao Parker gets a lesson in social interaction (I’m so sorry, girlie, I’d hate it too, but tbh I also befriended an older lady while at jury duty so same????)

it’s ok Parker you tried your best 🫂

“I have a peanut allergy” <- love you Alec 

Nate, I sure hope you don’t regret that honeypot plan

OHHHHHHHHH oh dear ok now the brownface comments make sense

Ok show’s age has been shown

jfc Sophie wtf please tell me this is the only episode where this happened 

“I’m very spiritual” <- 🤢 god how many times have I heard this

Jesus H Christ I can’t even look at her T^T

awwwww Sophie is helping Parker

ELIOT YOU ARE SO CUTE

HES TRYING

PARKER YOU CUTIE 🥰 

i want Parker and the grandma to be friends. Like best friends

lmaooooooo she’s foreman now (I don’t think I spelled that right)

girlie, you sound like you’re giving the old man a job interview 😂

SHE GONNA BUY OUT THE LAWYER???? 

He won’t

Nate noooooooooo

ALEC

YES

MY BOY

HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN A SUIT

but also shit they are treading the legality there (<- she says even tho they do this every episode)

“Do you trust your government, Ms. Vargas?” ALEC 😂😂😂😂 bringing back the old teachings of being a Jehova Witness i see

WE ARE BARELY HALFWAY?????? (Sorry just looked at the time stamp  what do you mean it’s only been 20 minutes????)

“is that a high school yearbook?” oh my god

Alec, babe, love you, but what

ALEC I LOVE YOU

girlie you could say cauliflower steak

Awwwwwwwwwwww Parker has a friend 🤧🤧🤧🤧

Alec’s headshot is beautiful 

“It all checks out unless [says an example of exactly what Alec did]”

Ooooooh outsource mention 👀 

Nate there are cameras!!!!

“You know why they say, ‘Justice has a blindfold’? Because Justice is asleep” FUCKING DEAD

ok bro this isn’t jury duty anymore this is a trial???? did I miss the part where they finished jury selection 

OH SO HE’S AN ACTOR???

lmaooooo he was Scottish 

Awwwwwwwww Parker 🥺 “she likes rainy days” im fucking sobbing

Ok now that’s why we were only halfway 

“We win the trial” LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

Hehe Alec has to actually win the trial

“You think lawyers aren’t just pretending and trying to fill in daddy’s shoes” ok, uh, wow 💔 

SHE GOT A BAG LUNCH 🥺🤧

Eliot on another parents trip!!!

wait who is he fighting???? Oh ok

Nate, you look so fucking dumb 😂

*gasp* THAT MEDICAL MAN IS LYING FIGHT HIM ALEC

oh ho ho! bringing up his qualifications I see 👀 why he now only doing cases in Cali 👀

OH HO 👀

HE BROUGHT UP BIN LADEN 👀

GET HIS ASS ALEC! FUCK HIM UP!!! FUCK! HIM! UP!

Alex’s closing statement 👀 omg 🥺 yes babe 🤧 beautiful 💐 take my flowers 💐💐💐💐💐

jfc I’m nervous!!!! I know this will end happy but still!!!! So nervous 🫠

nooooo, she must not figure out 🫠

Oh dear, 

OH YES THEY TURNED OFF THE TV WONDERFUL

lol yesssss girlie, burn that fucking bridge!!!! BURN THE BRIDGE!!!! DIG THAT HOLE!!!!

unrelated but her jacket is super pretty

ok ok here we go. fuck I’m nervous 

YESSSSS LETS GO BITCH

FUCK YEAH MESS WITH THEIR CAMERA

why are you revealing yourself to her????? bro she could find people to get you!!!!

OMG SHE MADE A FRIEND! GET THAT COFFEE

Final Thoughts:

this episode was so much fun!!!! we may not have gotten much of the Parker/Eliot duo but I’m still happy that they got to tag-team! Parker learning how to socialize, be a team player, and lead was just 👌👌👌👌👌👌 wonderful so proud of her T^T Alec was amazing (obviously) and fucking killed both for stalling the case and winning it <3

not as much Nate/Sophie moments besides them acting like parents to their teammates and being a well-oiled machine 😎 so I’m still satisfied! a little disappointed that there wasn’t any hint for the finale but that might just be because of the messed up order again 😔 

overall: wonderful episode, this might be my favorite of the season (tho Miracle Job still has my heart)

#fluffy watches #fluffy reacts #idk which tag I originally chose for this live-blog series #leverage

[spilledreality]

1. Mimosa pudica, or an economy of signal

I remember reading an interview with a pretty successful/respected Army rangers battalion leader. Said one of the biggest advantages he got was, in the Iraq and/or Afghanistan campaigns, all the officers were constantly trying to suck the teat of big government, get as many resources as they could, even stuff they didn’t need. So, regular requests for supplies, little luxuries, time off, etc. “Why not? The Army’s got the money” was the logic—which, fair enough from an ethical perspective, but think selfishly now: This is actually self-defeating behavior.

Because officers who did this burnt out their credibility, burnt out the goodwill of supply teams and logistics officers. “Ah yeah he’s always asking for shit.” Eventually the system gets “numbed” because it can’t distinguish signal—it doesn’t know what’s actually important/needed vs unimportant/unnecessary.

Whereas—this ranger battalion head said—he never requested anything they didn’t absolutely need, had in fact turned down offers. “Hey, need any XYZ?” “Nope, we’re good.” “Are you sure? What about ABC?” “Nope, we’re good.” So that on the rare occasions he did send a message up command, making requests, they were granted immediately, without questions, without delays, and in full. Because it was assumed that if he was requesting something, it was absolutely necessary.

One way to think about this is as an economy of credibility—how much building a certain (typically respected/“good”) reputation gives you immense, outsized “manipulative” leverage when you need it. Manipulative in the sense of "getting things done by communicating."

There’s something wild about the way that, because I don't boss my partner around, I could, if needed to (e.g. we were in a dangerous situation), use a very serious voice and tell her to do something and she’d immediately do it without questioning, because if I’m “playing that card”—a card that is quasi economically scarce due to the numbing effect (i.e. its frequency-dependence)—she'll assume there’s a very good reason.

And you can get information out of situations by what cards skilled strategic players play—e.g. in the Milwaukee game the other day, Curry flipped out about a no-call on a three-point attempt to refs. On replay it really doesn’t look that egregious, but… it was early in a regular season game, the shot went in, it wasn’t like some tight final-possessions thing—it’s like, why would he choose now to play this card? If, that is, you think “refs taking seriously player complaints” has an “economy” to it. It’s almost—and this is amazing IMO—a more reliable signal of an egregious foul happening that he chose to play the card than any single replay angle on its own.

Abstractly: Player moves emit information about their experience of the environment, and when those players are more sensorily proximate to aspects of that environment, or more skilled at parsing and structuring that sensory input in a culturally schematized way (e.g. what contact is or isn't a foul), your observation of their observations (second-order) can be more reliable than your first-order observations.

What I’m trying to say is, once you assume players are strategically competent, you can do “algebra” on the world, using their choices of action to model events you might not have fully witnessed, the same way you can use responses + environment to model player agenda, or agenda + environment to forecast behavior. Which is maybe just what “theory of mind” entails, under it all. Triangulations of their knowledge state, the world state, their desires, and their actions. Like it sorta seems like this is how we navigate the social world already?

You know that shy plant? Mimosa pudica, sometimes called the shameplant, that curls to the touch? If you give it opioids, it stops responding. It is "numbed."

The other way you get it numb, get it to stop curling? Touch/stimulate it the same way, over and over, until it’s habituated (with all the undertones of pragmatist habit, or Bourdieusean habitus). It’ll respond to novel types of stimulations, just not the one it’s used to (i.e. has seen over and over, i.e. has learned). It’s all frequency dependence.

Regardless of what light group the plants were in, one drop was not enough for the plants to learn to ignore the stimulation. For the groups that were dropped repetitively, the plants stopped folding their leaves and were even fully open after a drop before the end of the trainings. The low light plants learned faster to ignore the dropping stimulation than the high light plants. When the plants were shaken, they responded immediately by folding their leaves, which suggests that the plants were not ignoring the dropping stimulation due to exhaustion.[45] This research suggests that the Mimosa has the capability for habitual learning and memory storage and that Mimosa plants grown in low light conditions have faster learning mechanisms so they can reduce the amount of time their leaves are unnecessarily closed to optimize energy production.

There’s some universal law here. I find sort of incredible—that a plant, despite not having a nervous system, behaves the exact same way as animals do in response to the same chemical. And that this mimics habituation, the sleepwalking that is a world perfectly expected, i.e. ready-to-hand. That difference jolts the system into awareness, and that there’s an economy of difference, and that we're constantly playing the numbers, stockpiling jolt-power.

Part 2