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pockyteau · 1 year

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HEARTS PLAYERS

✩ a chishiya x reader where hearts players are all one in the same, until they're not

✩ a/n - chishiya is knees deep in denial in this one

Chishiya didn't like Hearts players.

For one, he found the notion of a 'hearts player' rather cheap. It doesn't take a lot to take advantage of a person; despite his disinterest in understanding the human heart, it was no great feat to fool one. However, the mind was a much more complex task - and perhaps he was biased, but Diamonds pretty much had that covered.

Even so, he found some Hearts players slightly intriguing. Was the capability of understanding a person's heart really such a special thing? Chishiya's inability to see the value in a person's emotion, compassion, was what put him at such an advantage to the rest of the people in the Borderlands. Who would choose to trust their heart, something that breaks so easily, rather than their mind?

And so he was slightly curious when the new executive turned out to be a Hearts player.

Chishiya had been expecting the newcomer for some time; the Beach's recent growth meant more competent players would be joining the ranks, and he was interested to see who Hatter might consider skilled enough to invite into the executive board. Despite what most might believe, it was no high honour to be an executive, however lower your assigned number would be as a result. It just meant more people would be out to kill you.

Which didn't bother him as nearly as much as the frequent meetings the Hatter insisted on holding, during which he often contemplated climbing through the open window on the fifteenth floor.

Aside from your status as a Hearts player, Chishiya finds the rest of your introduction a bore. There is already a Hearts player on the executive board, in any case; Mira, who seems to have been here ever since the Beach's beginning, and whom Chishiya mildly dislikes. What does interest him, however, is how you are smiling; there is not one welcome-faced person in the room, and yet your expression is strangely warm. You must be a fool, he muses, but from where he stands most Hearts players often are.

Before he can look away your eyes meet his from across the room, and he is momentarily caught off-guard when your smile becomes directed at him. He gives you a small wave, quick to regain his composure. He sees your fingers twitch at your sides, wondering whether to wave back, and the corner of his lips tug upward into his usual complacent expression. But you are guided into a seat before you can do any more than nod in his direction, and Chishiya leans back in his chair. You are nothing special, he decides, and probably just as predictable as the rest.

But he finds his gaze drifting back to you as Hatter drones on about something he doesn't care about enough to listen to. You look as bored as he is, making a cat's cradle with your fingertips under the table. The action somewhat amuses him, with your eyes lowered in quiet concentration.

Without warning, his vision is abruptly filled with those eyes of yours again as you catch him watching you, meeting his gaze in surprise. Unabashed, he tilts his head at you - after a beat or so you merely smile again, the corners of your eyes crinkling slightly in quiet laughter.

Chishiya sighs, the soft breath soundless to the person seated next to him. Do you think you have found a friendly face, someone to acquaint yourself with? So it's just that. A Hearts player's naivety. He doesn't need to know much more about you than that to guess how competent you'll be at playing games, or how long you'll survive for. He turns away, certain that you've served your purpose in keeping his mind off of this tedious meeting.

But it's strange that you still linger in his thoughts long after the meeting is over.

- Chishiya is slightly annoyed when Kuina asks about the new executive. He doesn't see the need to talk about you, or why Kuina should show such a sudden interest in executive matters - you are just yet another member of the Beach. Why waste time talking about something so unimportant?

"A Hearts player?" Kuina says curiously. She takes a sip of her coffee, and grimaces.

"Yes," Chishiya concedes. "Why do you keep drinking that garbage? You clearly don't like it."

Kuina snorts. "Don't change the subject! And my coffee drinking habits are none of your business."

The blonde shrugs. "If you like torturing yourself, so be it."

"You're literally the worst." Kuina eyes him with distaste, taking another strenuous sip of her coffee. "Right, well. What's this Hearts player like? Any good?"

Chishiya sighs. In his mind, an ideal world, the discussion has already moved far beyond this point. "Don't know." He says impassively. He hopes that the additional and unspoken 'don't care' is evident in his tone of voice, since Kuina is clearly set on this topic of conversation. He raises his palms, giving Kuina a dry smile. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

She groans, and Chishiya's grin widens as he advises her to watch her precariously tipping coffee cup. He expects she will pretend to throw it at him in response; he finds it unsurprising when she does exactly that.

Chishiya considers skipping the next executive meeting, unenthusiastic to spend another hour in a room with a collection of people far more pretentious than even himself. The summer air was rather weighted, and he presumed the warmth in the air would make him drowsy. Yet he could think of no better way to spend his time, either.

He exhales, stuck between the two options, neither any more enticing than the other. Could he play a game? No, it's still much too early. Perhaps he'd better go to the meeting after all - he had skipped quite a few this past month, and although he cared little for the Hatter it might be beneficial to remain in the man's good graces.

As if carried on the lazy summer wind, the brief thought of you passes through his mind, but it is gone before he can dwell much on it.

The conference room is already mostly full when Chishiya arrives. Ann calls it ill-mannered, Chishiya calls it fashionably late. Besides, even Hatter is yet to arrive, so clearly he has come in good time.

Chishiya notices you glance up as he takes his seat at the back of the room. You give him a small smile, like before. He smirks, giving you a wave in return. Strange that you would think you had found a friend in him, of all people.

As you shift your hands on the table top, he catches a glint of pink foil between your fingertips. He raises his brows, making no attempt to inquire about it, but you seem to notice his gaze on your hands. The smile on your lips turns into a grin, and you shoot a quick glance over your shoulder to check if Hatter has arrived yet.

Confirming the Hatter is still absent, you turn back to Chishiya, who watches you with his brow furrowed. Admittedly, he has no idea what you're doing. Carefully, tilting your hands towards the blonde as if guarding a great secret, you open your closed palms to reveal two foil-wrapped chocolates.

Want one? you mouth.

Chishiya can't help but snort, earning him an odd look from Ann beside him. He catches the soft laugh that escapes your lips at his response, the chocolates still sitting on your palms. Certainly, you might not be special, but you were proving to be more interesting than he initially thought; out of all the things he had expected out of today, this was not one of them. He decides to play along, his lips curving in amusement.

What flavour? he mouths back.

You blink. The wrapper is pink, you reply.

The blonde frowns. What does that matter?

Pink means strawberry, you explain. Everyone knows that.

Chishiya feels an odd sense of utter disbelief. What is he doing? he wonders, and what kind of useless knowledge was that?

In the end he accepts the chocolate, which makes your eyes light up in a way that almost surprises him. It's only a chocolate, yet you seem so delighted; it causes a strange twist in his chest, which he passes off as contempt. Of course someone like you would be so happy about such a simple thing. It's another thing he dislikes about Hearts players - they always retain such unnecessary emotion.

But that quality seems so much different, so much better, on you.

Then comes the ordeal of you trying to slide one of the chocolates across the table to Chishiya, which has the both of you concealing laughter behind hands and the clearing of throats. The chocolate ends up on the floor. Ann shoots Chishiya another glare.

Chishiya couldn't care less about Ann.

Chishiya is aware that you are not fond of playing games.

He has picked up on the way you chew the inside of your cheek whenever the Hatter talks about collecting more cards, the way your gaze lowers to the table whenever the subject is breached. He finds this unsurprising. Even as a player of hearts, you yourself are soft-hearted, the gentleness in your eyes and the way you continuously smile contradicting your card specialty - but every executive has made their way on to the board for a reason. What had made it so that you were able to stand in the same room as him? He finds he would be interested to see you play a game. Would you be so friendly with your life on the line?

He is mildly disappointed to see the group arrangement for the evening's games. The group he is in will play a Clubs game, speculated to be low-level. He usually finds it insulting when Hatter delegates these kinds of games to him, the man's frequent disregard for Chishiya's intellect irritating - but whatever. He is much more intrigued by the game you have been selected to play.

Your name is under the group for the Diamonds game, located in Shinjuku.

His eyes lazily trace the rest of the list. He wonders if you are as intelligent as your status as a Hearts player would suggest; many would say Diamonds and Hearts are interchangeable, though Chishiya much prefers his title as a Diamonds player, he was just as confident in his ability to clear Hearts games - but there are some who are exceptions to this common theory. He finds Kuina is listed under the Shinjuku Diamonds game as well. Perhaps she might be able to provide some insight on your capabilities when she returns, if he is bothered to ask by then.

But he doesn't have to wait that long to find out.

He sees you first, on the way back from his own game. His game, a Six of Clubs, was mind-numbingly easy, although he'd disliked the way his group had looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to solve the game himself. They weren't his problem. Why should they expect anything from him? He shoves his hands in his pockets, stopping when his fist closes around a small object wrapped in foil. He realises the chocolate you gave him is still in his pocket.

He wonders why he hasn't thrown it out yet.

"Chishiya?"

Chishiya blinks, realising you must have seen him too. He lifts one of his hands from his pockets to wave, and you give him a smile, although it seems more weary than usual. It's strange, how his throat tightens at the thought, but he lets the lazy smirk surface over his lips. "That's me, yes."

"Glad I wasn't mistaken, then." You joke. "How was your game?"

The blonde shrugs. The nicety is far too bland for him to give a substantial answer. "Nothing remarkable. Yours?"

You pause, deliberating on a reply. "Well, I suppose it wasn't anything remarkable either." You let out a quiet laugh. "I'm not great at Diamonds games, though, so considering it was an Eight I'm lucky to have made it out at all."

Chishiya hums, offering no response of his own. He thinks quite the opposite, actually. He is sure that the wan expression you wear is not because you lack of skillset - judging by the way you spoke so flippantly of the number, you had cleared the game without much challenge. No, the reason was one Chishiya himself had never cared for. It was clear enough by the conflicted look in your eyes, one he had seen on enough people to recognise instantly, that you weren't as indifferent as he was to the lives of other players. Quite a few deaths in your game, then. He sees the way you rub your thumb over the side of your index finger, a habit of self-reassurance and comfort. A habit he had unlearned a long time ago.

Here was another thing he disliked about Hearts players; they were always much too concerned about other people's business.

He presses his lips together. You would be so much more interesting, so much more worth his time if you dropped this soft-hearted quality of yours. But as he studies you he can't explain why somewhere in him too difficult, too abstract to pinpoint feels the need to say something to you, to offer you some form of comfort. This was not his problem, as much as the survival of the other players in his game wasn't his problem.

So he doesn't know why the words escape his lips of their own accord.

"Give me your hand."

You look at him, surprised. Chishiya is also surprised.

"My hand?" you say doubtfully, and the blonde nods. You peer at him for a moment more before uncertainly holding your palm out to him, although you don't lose the apprehension in your voice. "Okay..."

He places the pink foil-wrapped chocolate into your hand, his fingers brushing your palm as he does so. He ignores the warmth that briefly lights up is fingertips. Probably friction, or something of the sort. The chocolate is, astonishingly, still in good condition, and you close your fingers around it and bring it closer to you. The smile returns to your face as you laugh unreserved.

"You kept it?" you murmur, glancing up at Chishiya with a grin.

He gives you another shrug. "I don't like chocolate." This is a lie. He is no big fan, but he doesn't mind the confectionary, either. And he is particularly fond of strawberry, as the pink wrapper indicates.

You raise your brows as if seeing through his lie, but you say nothing nonetheless. Instead you thank him, the content smile still resting upon your features, and Chishiya finds he is somewhat relieved to see your expression is much more relaxed than it was before.

But when you suddenly wrap your arms around him, whispering another word of thanks into his shoulder, he feels himself tense at your touch; Chishiya has never liked physical contact, especially not from people he barely knew. Yet he simply lets you hug him, although he makes no attempt to hug you back. You pull away after a moment, suddenly further from him than he would've liked.

"Ah, I'm sorry...I should've asked first, I just..." You apologise, clasping your hands together in a flustered way. The action makes it difficult for Chishiya to keep the amused look off his face - for a moment he is tempted to taunt you, wondering if he could draw a new expression out of you. Something devastated, perhaps, if you thought you'd ruined whatever relationship you had with him. An interesting change to your usual bright smile.

Chishiya exhales, unable to help the slight upward tilt of his lips. "Don't lose sleep over it," he shrugs. He won't torment you, at least for now. You did give him a chocolate, after all. He's simply repaying a favour. "It's not a big deal."

There it is again, that smile of yours that exasperates Chishiya no end, relieved and tentative. Strangely, he has the sudden urge to move closer to you and observe your happiness at close-quarters. Surely there was a limit to how much a person could smile a day? But he merely dips his head in response as you bid him goodnight and disappear, careful to make sure his complacency never wavers.

It's odd, though. No matter how hard he tries to push it away, a question lingers in his mind for the rest of the night.

Why didn't he pull away from you then?

You begin to sit next to Chishiya during executive meetings.

He can't say he is surprised.

Only, he can't say he despises it either, the way you draw out the chair beside him and ask him if you could sit there with dancing eyes. He should hate that you think the two of you are friends. He does hate the way his throat seems to tighten when you smile, which should be reason enough for him to shut you down.

But for whatever reason, he doesn't.

Maybe it's because he knows that even if he does shut you down, you would pay him no mind. So why bother? It's not as if he doesn't welcome the distraction from the executive matters he is well above hearing about for the fourty-fifth time.

You bring with you more pink-wrapped chocolates, as if you had never really believed the lie he'd told you. Chishiya finds when he eats one that they're much too sweet, even for him - you are content eating the strawberry chocolate, however, the over-sweetness of the confectionary not seeming to bother you in the slightest. Chishiya can't seem to refuse when you hand him one.

"These are terrible," he mutters under his breath, chewing on one of your strawberry chocolates as Hatter points at his card collage.

"Why do you eat them, them?" You grin, folding a pink foil wrapper into a condensed foil heart. The irony of you folding hearts is not lost on him.

But Chishiya honestly doesn't know the answer to your question.

He doesn't know why he lets you press the little heart into his palm either, your touch warming his hands as if he is holding them to a winter bonfire. The twist in his chest is growing stronger, and he can only ignore it for so long. It's strange that he suddenly doesn't know so many things; Chishiya finds uncertainty alarming - to be uncertain was a concept he was unfamiliar with, his ability to predict the outcome of every situation he encountered one he prided himself on. He is always certain; of himself, of the world, of where people stand in his regard. He is certain he dislikes Heart players.

Especially you.

You, who possesses every quality he condemns, who somehow makes him feel the need to understand his own heart no matter how much he tells himself he does not. Something else he is certain of; he does not need the emotions that may surface from doing so.

But when he looks at the foil heart in his palm, the remnants of shared strawberry chocolate, was he really so certain anymore?

#chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya #alice in borderland #aib #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya fluff #chishiya shuntaro x you #chishiya x y/n #chishiya oneshot

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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Masterlist of Other Lookism ✨Bullshit✨

Lookism Masterlist | Part 2 ☞ (multi-character headcanons/dynamics)

Lookism Storylines ☞ (fun shit. mix of x reader and with reader)

Gun + Goo | Part 2 | Jake + Samuel | Vin + Ryuhei |

You're here! Everyone else ☞ (single character-centric standalones)

... Even More Lookism Masterlist ☞ (different characters in same scenarios series)

How To Fight/Viral Hit Masterlist | Seong Taehoon

(I hit the link limit on the main one)

Maintained collection of my Lookism silly writing, headcanons and ramblings

Single Character-Centric Standalones

Vasco: the Strongest Cinnamon Roll (Vasco x Reader if you squint)

Vasco: Gen + Romantic hc

Vasco x Reader: Compliment Assault | With help from Jace's ears

Vasco Appreciation Post

Vasco x Reader: Haircut

Vasco x Reader: Glowups for the fights (feat Jace)

Vasco x Reader: First time

Vasco x Reader: make the bad guys good for a weekend lifetime (feat Jace + Burn Knuckles)

Vasco x Reader: Fairground date

Vasco x Reader: Embrace

Jace Park Appreciation Post

Sad Sinu (meme)

Johan Seong x Reader: Puppy pick up

Johan Seong (x Lua Im): Making new friends

Johan Seong x Reader: Cute

Johan Seong x Reader: Kiss Me

Johan Seong x Reader: Silences & confessions

Johan Seong x Reader: Vision

Johan Seong x Reader: His love language

Johan Seong x Reader: Home

Johan Seong x Reader: Reunion

Zack Lee and Johan Seong: Three words

Zack x Johan x Reader: Home

Johan + Mira + Zack reunion

UI Daniel Knocking you out

Daniel Park with Reader: Two bodies

DG x Reader: Daniel Park

DG x Reader: Cinema

DG x Reader: Baby

DG x Reader: First words

DG x Reader: Jealous hc

Yandere!DG + Reader: His hold on you

DG x M!Reader: Meeting Aru

DG x Reader: Remember?

DG x Reader: Love you too!

DG/James Lee x Reader: One arm

James Lee/DG x Reader: Haircut

DG x Reader: Touchstarved

James Lee x Reader: Trophy Partner

DG x Reader: Public Announcement

Lineman x Reader: After he meets Jake Kim

Lineman & Jake Kim discovering Big Deal's bounties

Eli Jang x Reader: The morning light

Eli Jang x Reader: you're losing me

Eli Jang x Reader: Returning home

Eli Jang X Reader: Daddy

Eli Jang x Reader: loving touches

Eli Jang x Reader: Stargazing

Logan Lee x Reader: Snapshots

Xiaolong x Reader: Asking

Xiaolong x Reader: Webtoons

Warren Chae x Reader: Househusband and The Fighter

Kwak Jichang x Reader: Frozen

Kwak Jibeom x Reader: Snakes in a bath

Cheon Taejin x Kwak Jihan: Shouldn't

Yandere!Baek Hangyeol x Reader: True Beauty

Sophia x Male!Reader

Hudson Ahn x Reader: growing older

Eugene x Reader: No smut

Gen 0 x Reader: Jinyoung, Gapryong

Jinyoung Park x Reader: Jake (feat Jake)

Seongji Yuk x Reader: Treats

Seongji Yuk x Reader: Favourite

Seongji Yuk x Reader: Tanghulu

#lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism x reader #how to fight #lookism #how to fight headcanons #lookism fanfic #lookism fic #wannaeatramyeon #masterlist

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aroaceart · 3 months

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Had to do a sketch about my reaction to the boops!

Traditional for once, I drew it on a post-it lol

#pokemon art #mira espurr #april fool's day #boop #(havent done pencil shading in a bit but i think i did good!)#feat. my terrible handwriting #(i am still clawing my way out of art slump btw but sketching is helping)

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lanitaminaj · 1 year

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eres mía 💋

in which miguel finds a way to make you committed to him forever.

smut, dominican miguel o’ hara

miguel was always a bit jealous when it came to you.

he hated the fact you walked around nueva york alone, garnering lustful stares from the perverted men that sat on bedstuy’s brown-house steps. he hated the fact that it was summer, so all you’ve been wearing was those tight summer dresses all month long.

“pero, papi,” you would tell him. “it’s hot out. what else am i supposed to wear?”

even if you were out with friends, that didn’t stop men from catcalling you like they did on the regular.

“mira esa vaina,” you told him recently, giggling as you showed him the brown, slightly ripped napkin that held the illegible, scribbled-on hint of a phone number of a man who’d given it to you. “some chump gave it to me. told me to holler at him when i leave my girlfriends alone. fuckin’ cabrón.”

you found the situation funny, laughing to yourself while you sat in miguel’s lap. miguel himself, however, didn’t find it funny in the slightest.

“how about we give him a call, hm?”

“papi,” you gently shoved his shoulder. “ya. give it a rest.”

he didn’t give a rest. an hour later, he was busy fucking you on his cock, his left hand spreading your right thigh wider as his right hand squeezed your throat.

“who’s pussy is this?” he growled, his thrusts growing rougher and harder as your moans grew higher and louder.

“yours,” you’d breathe, your voice getting caught in a web of pure ecstasy and lust. “fuck, baby. yours.”

“only mines?” he whispered in your ear.

“only yours,” you responded, right before you came erotically for the third time that night alone.

afterwards, while you were all bundled up and sleeping in nothing but a white, plush blanket in miguel’s arms, the man started thinking to himself; a dangerous feat that miguel often indulged in.

miguel was undeniably possessive; the veins in his throat popped whenever you brought up encounters you’d have with men who wanted nothing more but to fuck you. he’d often tease around about making you a housewife, the man wanting nothing more but to keep you at home wearing nothing but silk lingerie for his pleasure only.

“cmon, nena,” he would tell you, slapping your ass as he reached for a piece of salami from the pot on the stove. “don’t you wanna stay home and be all hot for me?”

“stay home for who?” you’d always reply, grabbing the salt shaker on the counter to sprinkle the tostones with. “you’re never home, babe.”

“shh,” he’d murmur, his tall, six-foot-nine form pulling your standing body close to his, your ass rubbing against his hardening cock. his hand would run down your stomach, his fingers slipping under your pajama shorts as they pressed down on that one spot that always made you breathe out a gasp.

“i’m home now, aren’t i?”

miguel was serious about making you a housewife. he wanted you home, safe from the eyes of any asquerosos with their wandering eyes and shameless thoughts. you were stubborn, laughing off miguel’s repeated attempts of keeping you home.

he knew he wouldn’t get you that easy, but as you laid in his arms, your cheeks still cherry-blossom red from getting fucked throughout the night, he realized there was one last thing that would get you to comply.

“mi amor,” you heard his voice rasp in his signature mellow, deep voice. “eres mía” by romeo santos played quietly on the little, black radio that stood against the kitchen counter’s corner. the boiling stew on the stove rumbled, the sound mimicking the pitter-patter of the raindrops that rapped against the apartment’s windows.

you smiled, turning around slightly to meet the tired eyes of the love of your life. “papito,” you affectionately called. “how was work, baby?”

he groaned, the man throwing his head back as his left arm rubbed the back of his neck.

“i know, baby,” you sighed, empathizing already for your man. “ven acá.”

he silently stalked towards you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he perched his chin on your left shoulder.

“nena,” he purred, his tan-toned, full lips leaving little, feathery kisses along your ear. it made you shiver, an action you hoped would go unnoticed as you silently stirred the pot of stew. miguel noticed, of course, his kisses advancing alongside your neck.

“i’m making your favorite,” you softly spoke, pretending not to notice the effects miguel’s affection is already having on your body. “sancocho, papi.”

“yeah,” miguel absentmindedly answered, his plumose eyelids were shut as his mouth traveled downwards towards your shoulder, his kisses replacing where his chin rested against. “how about i eat your pussy instead?”

“miguel,” you whispered, his right hand rubbing against the blue, satin material of your night dress, his fingers dancing past the edge’s lacy trimming as they met the cotton-fabric of your black panties. “que ‘ta haciendo?”

“shh,” miguel’s voice rang close to your ear, his veiny, wide fingers rubbed your covered pussy. you could feel him smirk at how wet you instantly got, the tip of his canine tooth jabbed slightly into your shoulder as he felt a sudden dampness on his fingertips. “lo quiere, mami? look how wet you’ve gotten already.”

“papi,” you breathed, your voice growing labored and feathery under his touch.

“como así?” he seductively asked, the sensation further intensifying as his pressed on your clit, his fingers massaging you there quicker than he had already been doing. “no quieres que me paro?”

“como así,” you answered, parroting him. “don’t stop, baby.”

the vision of you under miguel sent blood rushing down to his cock. it was the way you gripped onto his veiny arms, his left hand stroking your belly while his right hand teased you there. it was the way your lips parted to make those familiar noises he adored, the little whines and soft moans delicately made just for him. it was the way your legs began to give out, your body’s way of showing him just how weak he made you.

you really couldn’t blame him for the words he uttered, not after seeing you becoming undone from just his light touches.

“baby,” he whispered, his voice low and resonant. “let me cum in you tonight. let me put a baby in you.”

“a baby?” you muttered, your once sealed eyes slowly fluttering open at his words. in your lustful state, however, there was only so much you could register. “quiere acabar en mi?”

“si, mami.” suddenly, miguel spun you around to where your ass met with the marble surface of the kitchen counter and to where your forehead was pressed against his own. slightly crouched, the tall, tan man’s hazelnut-brown eyes stared into your own, his pupils dilated in both love and lust. his left hand, the one that wasn’t playing with your pussy, delicately met with the softness of your face, his adoring nature causing your cheeks to blush a deeper shade of ruby red.

“i’m serious,” miguel asserts, his eyes searching for any signs of doubts in your widened pair. “quiero una familia contigo, mami.”

“no me mientas,” you lightly scoffed, rolling your eyes at him in a mix of playfulness and dubiety.

“mi vida,” he breathed, his rugged, right hand pulled you in closer so that your chest brushed up against his. “no hay otra mujer que quiero pasar todo mi tiempo con. you’re all i want, mi jeva. let me show you how much i want you with me forever.”

“papi,” was all you could muster up in a response. your chest rose as you breathed, a sign of your arousal and your mind realizing what miguel wanted from you. looking into his eyes, you realized that this was the man whom you shared so much history with, the man who’d come home to you frying salami or mashing plátanos to make mangú for him. you realized that this was the man whom you slowed danced with at night, the romantic, melodic charms of aventura playing from the cassette tape player the rhythm that made you both relax into each others arms.

it was then had you realized what miguel truly was to you, and it was then that you realized there was nothing that he could’ve asked of you that you would’ve denied.

“i want a baby,” you finally replied, your eyes taken in how his face softened, his thick eyebrows lowering as his plump lips parted to some degree. “i want your baby, miguel.”

“yeah?” he questioned, his voice airy as if he was in a trance. “dígame otra vez, mi jefa.”

“miguel,” you tried to come off stern, but you could feel yourself smiling. your right hand grasped the back of miguel’s thick neck, your fingers pulling him closer to where the tip of his right ear met with your bottom lip. “cum in me.”

you screamed as you felt his arms lift you effortlessly, your body shaking from laughter as you wrapped your legs around his slim waist. he smushed his lips against yours, muffling your blissful laughter yet failing to subsidize your vibrating body. while your eyes were shut from passionately kissing miguel, you felt movement being taken underneath you before your backside was met with a plush surface. your eyes opened, your mind registering the fact that he’d placed you on the living room’s royal blue couch.

“qué qué?” you smiled up at him, your teeth reminding him of the little stars that shone in the twilight hour of the brooklyn night sky. “too lazy to carry me to the bedroom?”

“cállate, perra,” he hissed, yanking his own shirt off before he threw it somewhere deep in the living room. and by somewhere deep, you really mean like two feet away if we being honest cause god damn these new york city apartments are tiny as fuck.

his lips met with yours abruptly, your laughter and teasing slowly turning into gasps and moans. he let his left hand rest over your throat as he roughly kissed you, a reminder to both you and him that he was the one in control. even with your numerous little jokes and teases directed towards him, it was miguel who made you shut up simply with his dick.

he bit your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood but just enough to catch your attention. your eyes opened slightly to catch him winking at you, his teeth releasing your lip just to tell you that you were his.

“eres mía,” he told you, his lips descending as they met with your neck. “la mujer de mi vida.”

kissing your neck, miguel managed to sneak in a bite which made you shriek.

“diablo, miguel,” you cussed, rolling your eyes as you could feel him smile against your skin. you playfully smacked him against his chest just for that, however his smile only grew.

his lips traveled down towards your chest, his left hand released your throat as his fingers toyed with the lacy edge of your nightgown.

“quítale,” he commanded, his right hand wrapped around your left wrist as he pulled your back off the sofa.

“cuero,” you teased, your arms perpendicular to each other as you lifted the sapphire-blue nightgown over your head. tossing it towards wherever miguel threw his shirt, the only thing you were clad in now was your simple pair of already soaked, black panties.

“coño, mami,” miguel swore, his brown eyes focused on nothing more but how hard your tits were because of the prior pleasure he’d made you feel. “fuck, baby. your tits are so hard.”

“yeah,” you breathed. “i wonder why.”

ignoring you, miguel pressed you back down on the sofa before he immediately bent himself over you. he wasted no time in putting your right tit in his mouth. his left hand’s fingers rubbed the damp center between your legs.

“miguel,” your words turned into moans. your fingers, without your knowledge, found themselves woven into miguel’s chocolate-brown, silky hair.

“te gusta, mi amor?” miguel questioned, his lips pulled off of your tit as his wide eyes peered straight at yours. his right hand replaced the warmth from miguel’s mouth as he squeezed your right boob, his mouth peppering little kisses on your left.

“claro que si,” you replied, your voice hitching and your words liquifying into whines as miguel’s fingers rubbed drawn out circles, torturously slow, on your covered clit. “fuck, miguel,” you whimpered. “papi, por favor.”

“por favor, qué?” you felt his words vibrate against your body. he left your tits alone, opting to trail his mouth further down your warm and trembly body. you felt his wide, lengthy tongue trail down the soft surface of your torso, the tips of his fingers fingering the edges of your panties. “want me to put it in so soon, mi amor?”

“yeah,” you responded, your hands squeezing his shoulders in anticipation. “fuck, miguel, just put in already.”

miguel’s fingers pulled your panties down your thighs, the man muttering a “coño, mire a ti,” from just how wet you were. gloss coated your pussy, your clit protruding and throbbing as if it was enticing miguel to suck it.

“mire como te pongo,” the beautiful dominican man whistled, his fingers carefully unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. not even bothering to take his pants off further down his broad thighs, he pulled his cock out from his cranberry-maroon boxers, the sight causing you to whine in visual ecstasy.

he was just so, big.

seven inches of him barely fit in miguel’s lengthy right hand, with mauve-toned veins visible as it ran throughout his entire cock. his salmon-colored tip dripped with pre-cum, the sight of it causing your pussy to throb.

“que largo,” you commented, your eyes hollowing in pure lust as you watched miguel stroke his own cock. he threw his neck back in pleasure, his eyes closed peacefully as he let a moan escape his lips. you could feel your clit pulse, your thighs unconsciously pressing harshly against each other to soothe the pressing sensation.

“ábrelos,” miguel growled, his hand flying off his dick as he forced your legs open.

“miguel,” you moaned, “no juegues conmigo.”

he shushed you, a soft “tranquí, nena,” murmured from his lips as his left hand pushed your right thigh down, putting you on full display for him. you were fully exposed, your body failing to conceal your arousal from him with your hardened nipples and your soaked pussy for his private viewing.

his right hand held his cock again, the tip of it teasingly rubbed your pussy which earned another playful smack from you.

“ya,” miguel laughed, before he finally put in inside you.

your neck threw itself back instantly, a low-pitched moan getting caught in your throat as your eyes were firmly squeezed shut. you were wet, so wet that it started to drip on your inner thighs. it made it easy for miguel to slip inside, a low, vibrate groan pushed emerged from his chest as he did.

“fuck, baby,” you breathed, your hands finding his shoulders again as you clutched for dear life. “you’re just so fucking big.”

“and you’re so fucking tight,” his words rumbling from above you. “abre tus ojitos, muñeca.”

peering your left eye open, you could’ve died right then from the vision in front of you. although it wasn’t anything new, you could never get used to what it looked like when miguel was inside you; his vast chest inhaling and exhaling from his labored breathing as his brown locs grew messy and stuck unto his face as if his caramel-brown skin was actually made of honey.

“you’re so beautiful,” you found yourself whispering your thoughts out loud. it was then he looked at you, really looked at you. he watched your puppy-dog eyes as they widened, full of love and adoration for him. he watched your apple-red, blushing cheeks grow fat from your contagious smile.

“mi angelita,” he smiled back, the soft expression on his face carefully mimicked the ones on yours. “el amor de mi vida.”

“miguel,” you sung, just now remembering that he was still inside you and recalling just how bad you wanted him to make you cum. “fuck me.”

“yeah, baby,” the romance on miguel’s face quickly dissipated as lust rapidly took over, the smile on his lips turned into a smirk while the softness of his eyes turned into a glare. “cómo así?”

he pulled just an inch of his dick out of you before he roughly thrusted himself back in, and lord, the stars you were seeing.

“papi, cómo así,” you whined. he repeated the action slowly for just three more strokes, before eventually he sped himself up for harder and deeper blows.

it was too much. you could feel how deep he was, your pussy struggling to take all of him inside you. you could feel his cock rubbing against your inner walls, the feeling of getting penetrated and massaged internally produced so many sensations that you didn’t have the mental capacity at the time to describe. your hands, unsure with what to do with themselves as your brain was clogged with pleasure, often switched from gripping onto the plush couch beneath you, to holding onto your numb tits, to grasping miguel’s shoulders and arms. the man himself seemed so calm compared to your disheveled state, his constant fucking of you and his unashamed sounds of lust the only indicators of his ecstasy-filled condition.

“coño, miguel,” you couldn’t help but blurt out, little whimpers slipped out as miguel’s animalistic fucking grew more and more aggressive. his thrusts became quicker, his cock pressing impossibly deeper until it found that one spot that made you fall apart every time miguel found it. “ay dios mío, papi, no pare.”

“mi zorra,” miguel hissed, his hands pulling you closer as they gripped your thighs. “que mojada ‘ta por mí.”

“mhm,” you moaned, your hips slightly thrusting against his dick as he kept fucking that one spot over and over again. “oh fuck, miguel, baby i’m serious don’t fucking stop.”

“what,” he teased, his movements purposely picking up speed. “te vas a acabar?”

“cum in me,” you whined, your hands placing themselves on miguel’s back as you pulled him closer. “don’t pull out baby, cum in me.”

“fuck,” miguel cussed. with how you could feel your pussy tightening against his dick, you knew from past experiences that your man was about to tap out himself.

he wrapped your thighs around his lower back, prompting you to pull him closer as his breathing grew heavier and thunderous.

“let me cum in your pretty pussy,” he panted, a familiar, beloved sensation started to boil up in his lower body. “let me make you my slut forever.”

and then you came undone. you felt yourself reach the highest point of pleasure, your throat coarse from the whines and moans that fled from your trembling lips. your legs shook violently against miguel’s torso, the sounds blood rushing obnoxiously throughout your ears stunned the rest of your senses for a brief moment in time. you were literally seeing stars, your eyes were shut so tight to where little specks of white flames danced behind your eyelids.

while you were living in your high, a new sensation of something warm filling you up regained some form of your senses back.

miguel’s groans brought you back to earth, the enticing mix of cuss words and your name being moaned from his voice was what gathered your attention onto him once more. the way his nose was scrunched and his top lip curled up served as signs that he’d just came with you.

only this time, instead of cumming on your belly or in your mouth like he usually did, you just remembered what you’d begged him to do.

he actually came in you.

to miguel, you were everything he ever dreamed of.

in the midst of his hectic work life in nueva york and the constant nights of hustle and bustle, he knew that in the end he had you he’d came home to. it was you who he’d adored, who he’d respected, who he’d genuinely loved. there was no other woman who miguel could ever truly see himself being with forever, and there was no other woman who he could see himself fathering children with.

therefore, one night after he arrived home from work one day and saw you were in the kitchen making arepa as a little treat for a rough day, he nearly cried and screamed at the little gift you presented to him.

a positive pregnancy test.

and although he originally wanted to get you pregnant just so he could keep you away from the perverted men of nueva york (also cause miguel is a dominican man and they’re all grimey as fuck), miguel couldn’t imagine having his first baby with anyone that wasn’t you. he’d often day dreamed of capturing moments of your growing belly as each month progressed. he often day dreamed of singing and talking to your baby late at night, his hand on your belly while your fingers played with his hair.

if miguel wasn’t certain about a lot of things, there was one thing he was undeniably certain about; his unconditional love for you, and the desire to have a family and be devoted to only you for as long as he may live.

#miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv

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garadinervi · 4 months

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Geo-metrías. Abstracción geométrica latinoamericana en la Colección Cisneros, Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires (MALBA) and la Fundación Cisneros, Buenos Aires , 2003

Contributions: essay by Ariel Jiménez; interview with Patricia Phelps de Cisneros by Luis Pérez-Oramas

Exhibition: MALBA, Buenos Aires, 2003

Feat. works by: Joaquín Torres García, Carmelo Arden Quin, Carlos Cruz Diez, Jesús Soto, Alejandro Otero, Gego, Gyula Kosice, Enio Iommi, Raúl Lozza, Helio Oiticica, Lygia Clark, Sergio de Camargo, Alfredo Volpi, and Mira Schendel among others

#graphic design #typography #art #exhibition #catalogue #catalog #cover #ariel jiménez #patricia phelps de cisneros #luis pérez oramas #fundación malba #fundación cisneros #2000s

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illuminatedquill · 2 months

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Ghost Stories 04

Feat. Sabine Wren

Story Context: (Takes place shortly before the events of Ahsoka) Sabine tries to relax in Capital City's Memorial Park only to be interrupted by the presence of a lost child separated from his friend.

The afternoon sun shone high overhead Capital City which normally would have meant boiling temperatures for the citizens below, if it weren't for the unusual cool breeze coming down from the northern seas. The resulting temperature for the day meant it was perfect for outdoor activities and, as a result, Memorial Park was filled to bursting with families looking to enjoy the weather.

Sabine had never felt comfortable in crowds and over the years since the war had ended, she had become increasingly fond of avoiding them whenever possible. But she was not exactly in the mood to just sulk and brood in her comm-tower either; even Murley, her beloved loth-cat companion, was becoming increasingly irritated at her mood swings. She had not seen him this morning for his usual breakfast, which was uncommon for him.

Sabine had decided that was her sign to get out and "touch some grass" as the saying went. So, she did.

Besides - she knew that he would want her to go outside and get some sun. Closing her eyes, she could practically see the worried expression on his face; those piercing blue eyes that never missed a single detail filled with concern.

Come on, Sabine. You're not a fungus, you're a person! Get outside and breath the fresh air for once.

Sabine snorted. The line was his typical brand of affectionate cringe and full of the goofy humor that she loved so much.

That she missed so much.

"Next!" came a voice. Sabine blinked, shook herself out of her nostalgic reverie. The food vendor, an older Twi'lek male with aqua skin and wrinkles that suggested plenty of time spent in the sun, waved impatiently at her. She stepped forward in a hurry.

"What'll it be, sweetheart?" he asked.

She scanned the menu on the vendor's stall for a brief moment. "I'll just have a bottle of your lime-twist fizzy drink, please."

"Ah, a crowd favorite on this perfect day. Good choice, good choice. Fifteen credits, please," he said.

Sabine dug out the money from her pocket and handed it over. A few moments later, the Twi'lek produced a bottle of neon green fizzy drink. She popped open the cap, took a sample sip - yes, it was still ice cold. The lime twist flavor was a perfect blend of sweet and tart.

She smacked her lips, said thanks to the vendor, and went to go find a spot somewhere secluded to enjoy her drink in peace.

Memorial Park was a large octagon of evergreen forest, filled to the brim with plants and trees native to Lothal. The city designer had wanted to keep the boundary between nature and the city seamless as possible; to put forth the idea that the two could co-exist in harmony. After the tyranny of the machine hungry Empire, the idea of healing Lothal through its beautiful fields was well-received.

But it was called Memorial Park for a reason. Artists from all over Lothal had contributed their own works to enhancing the scenery; beautiful pieces that conveyed strength, beauty, grief, and joy lay strewn all over the park for all to admire.

Sabine had, of course, had added her own touch to the park. It was a strange twist of fate that she found her secluded spot exactly where her own art had found a home.

A simple pair of stone statues, standing tall and proud, their gaze always in the direction of Lothal's rising sun. The pair were holding hands; their faces never ceasing their encouraging smiles to all who came to visit them. A dedication plaque lay at their feet, inscribed by Sabine herself:

DEDICATED TO MIRA AND EPHRAIM BRIDGER

MAY THEIR SPIRITS ALWAYS GUIDE LOTHAL TO A BRIGHTER DAY

She felt a lump form in her throat at the sight of Ezra's parents. How many hours had she spent, studying records and photographs and holo-vids, making sure she had their features perfected to the exact detail? She remembered the day Ryder, the Governor of Lothal, had seen her initial design for the statues. Sabine remembered how he had cried at the sight of his old friends again, forever memorialized for their heroic sacrifice.

One day, she promised herself, she would bring Ezra here. He hoped that her friend would like it.

Taking another sip of her fizzy drink, she spotted a nearby bench under the shade of several trees. Sabine walked over and took a seat, basking in the cool afternoon breeze rustling through the forest.

She set her drink down on the bench. Despite the day's brightness and the general sense of contentment hovering over the park, Sabine still didn't feel her mood considerably lifted. It still hung sourly over her, like a listless, grey cloud.

Sighing, she turned to reach for her drink -

Only to find a disheveled humanoid male child, covered in leaves and grass, chugging away at what was left of it.

Sabine stared at the kid, mouth slightly agape. "Hey!"

He downed the last few gulps and let out an enormous burp. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

The boy blinked at her. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I was really thirsty."

"There's a food vendor not far from here," she said in an annoyed tone. "You got fifteen credits on you? Because that's how much you owe me, kid."

He blinked at her some more - and then started to cry.

Ah, kriff. Way to go, Sabine.

Feeling her momentary anger drain away, she kneeled down in front of the boy. At closer inspection, she noted some scrapes on his hands and knees - add all that to his general unkemptness, and the idea formed that he had been running from a fight.

"Hey, look. I'm sorry for getting annoyed, okay? Sit down right here," she said, gently guiding the young child onto the bench next to her.

"I'm really s-sorry. I'm lost. I got separated from my friend, Val." The boy sniffed loudly and wiped his face with a dirt-streaked sleeve.

"Were you in a fight?" Sabine asked. "With your friend?"

"No. Me and Val have been taking care of some loth kittens hiding out beneath a diner near our houses. We think the mama was taken by a poacher."

"Ah," she said. "Let me guess - the poacher came back." There were rumors that elite clientele all over the galaxy had gained an interest in garments made from loth-cat fur. Governor Ryder had come down hard on any criminal elements looking to make a fortune off the native felines, but some poachers still managed to escape through the security net set up by the Lothal Defense Force.

The boy nodded miserably. "We fought him. Val bit him on the hand. He got really angry."

Sabine arched an eyebrow at him, mildly impressed. "You fought him? A grown adult man?"

"Wasn't human. Gamorrean."

Wow. She was even more impressed. The Gamorreans were beefy, strong folk with a pig-like snout accompanied with sharp, tiny tusks that liked to punch first and ask questions later. The Hutt cartels liked to use them as guards, she had heard. They were big, ugly, mean, and could dish out a brutal beating when enraged.

"He grabbed Val and started shaking her real hard. I got scared, threw the biggest rock I could find at his ugly head. He started chasing me. I think he lost my trail on the way here. I hope Val's okay."

Sabine patted him on the back. "You two are very brave. I'm sure she's fine."

The boy sniffed again. "We promised to find each other if we ever got lost. But I'm dumb. I'm terrible with directions. I didn't even tell her where I was going."

"Hey," Sabine said gently. "She made you a promise, right? She'll find you. Just hang out here with me until she comes along."

He looked up at her. "How can you be sure that she'll be here?"

Sabine shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"Okay," said the boy, sounding less uncertain. "What's your name, lady?"

"I'm Sabine," she said, offering a hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm - uh . . ." The boy suddenly trailed off, looking nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My parents said I shouldn't give my name to strangers."

She chuckled. "That's fair. Guess that makes me a dummy, then."

"No - no, not at all!" exclaimed the boy, looking horrified that he had potentially insulted his new friend. "That's not what I - "

His stomach rumbled really loud, piercing the forest ambiance.

The boy's cheeks were aflame. Sabine couldn't help but laugh.

"Let's go see that food vendor I was talking about," she said.

She was out another thirty credits after they had finished ordering. The kid ate like he had been starved for a week.

"Feeling better?" she asked after he had scarfed down the last morsel.

He nodded vigorously, his cheeks full of food.

"That's good - " she started to say, when a pair of tiny feet drop kicked her in the stomach. Suddenly winded, she staggered backward a few steps.

"Leave him alone!" came a voice.

The boy's face whipped around, eyes wide with surprise. "Val!" he said. "You found me!"

Sabine, doubled over in pain, said in a weak voice, "Congrats. She found you. If you could please tell her not to kick me again . . ."

He threw his arms out and stopped the young, scrawny girl from another rushing attack. "Val! It's okay. She's a friend, she helped me."

The young girl - tousled brown hair, honey colored skin, eyes the color of sea algae - paused. "Oh, uh. She did?"

"Yeah."

Sabine crawled over to the bench and used it to prop herself up. Rubbing at her stomach, she grimaced at the pair.

"Good kick," she wheezed.

Val had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry."

Sabine waved her off, still catching her breath. Val whirled on her friend. "Where were you? Why did you run off like that? That mean Gamorrean was chasing after you, idiot!"

The boy blinked at his friend's surprising anger. "He was hurting you. I had to do something."

Val shoved him, tears in her eyes. "He could have torn you apart, Ezra!"

Sabine froze at the name.

"I'm really sorry, Val. I had to lead him away from you and the loth kittens - hey, are they okay?"

The young girl nodded, sniffing. "They're okay. I convinced my parents to let them stay at our house until we can find proper homes."

The boy - Ezra - looked relieved. "That's totally wizard! Can I come visit?"

Val snorted. "Of course you can, dummy."

She wrapped her friend in a bear hug. "I'm glad I found you, Ezra."

He smiled and returned the affectionate gesture. "I knew you would."

Sabine was standing now, watching them. The pain in her stomach had receded.

"Your name is Ezra?" she asked the boy.

He nodded at her. "My parents named me after the Hero of Lothal."

Val said proudly, "He's brave, just like Ezra Bridger was."

Sabine stared at them. "I can see that," she said softly.

A soft breeze blew gently through the trees. Val checked her chronometer. "We have to get going now, Ezra. Promised my Mom and Dad that we'd help out with the loth kittens."

Ezra nodded. "Okay." He turned to Sabine. "Thanks for the help."

Sabine nodded. Val stepped forward. "Sorry about the kick again. He's my best friend, you know? We watch each other's backs. And thanks for keeping Ezra safe until I found him."

"You should get moving now," Sabine replied quietly. "It'll be getting dark soon."

They both nodded and, with a final cheery wave, darted through the trees towards the park exit.

Sabine watched them go, receding into the distance until she couldn't see them anymore.

When will it be my turn?

Sabine abruptly turned towards the statues of Ezra's parents. Their faces remained jovial, as she had made them to be. She wondered how the real life Mira and Ephraim Bridger would judge her in this moment: all these years later, still not being able to find their son.

"It's not our Ezra, I know," she said in a shaky voice. There was pain in her stomach, but not from the fierce kick given by young Val. "But I'll take this as a sign from the Force or whatever. I'll find him soon."

She knelt down in front of them, her head bowed in penance. "I'm sorry it's taking so long. I haven't given up, I promise. I will never give up. I will bring him home to you."

The Bridgers stared ahead, their smiles never ceasing in their encouragement. Sabine stood up, wiping away the tears trailing down her face.

Next time, she thought. I will not come here alone.

He'll be here with me.

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #star wars rebels #star wars #ezrabine #ahsoka show #ahsoka #sabezra fanfiction #ghost stories 04

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